How to Be a Proper Lady

by Katharine Ashe

Her nerves shimmered. “Is it berthed in London?”

  “Yes.” His chest rose on a breath.

  She gripped the doorjamb behind with trembling fingers. “Are Matthew and Billy and Matouba there as well?”

  “Yes. I am expected shortly in Malta.”

  “Malta?” No. No. How could he look at her like this now and speak of going so far away? Without her? She shook her head.

  “Viola, I-”

  “I hope I am not interrupting?”

  Jin turned to the baron, but she could not tear her attention from him. His eyes did not look normal, and her heart did not feel normal, and she wanted to know what he’d been about to say. On her ship this interruption would not happen. But she couldn’t very well flash the baron a sparkling smile and order him to hare off deck.

  “My lord.” Jin bowed.

  “I am glad to find opportunity to speak with you in private, Mr. Seton.” The baron’s soft brown eyes were not so soft now. He took her hand and clamped it beneath his arm. “You brought my daughter home to us. I thank you for it most sincerely.”

  “It was my honor, sir.”

  “I understand that you are a sailor.” He said the word like it tasted a bit sour.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And that you have known my son-in-law many years, since you were both quite young.”

  “I have.”

  Viola’s gaze snapped to Jin’s face, but his attention was fixed on the baron. He hadn’t told her this.

  “Now that you’ve settled my daughter back in the bosom of her family, the Admiralty must have need of you again.” A chary glint lit the baron’s eyes.

  “I sail shortly for the Eastern Mediterranean. Your daughter was gracious to my crewmen on the journey to England,” he said so smoothly she nearly believed it herself. “I was just now conveying to her their best wishes.”

  “Then you will be leaving Savege Park soon, before the winter weather becomes troublesome on the sea. A brief visit only.” His head bobbed in satisfaction. “But I am glad to have had the opportunity to convey to you my gratitude.”

  Jin bowed again.

  “There is the butler,” the baron said in a lighter tone. “Dinner is served, and thanks to you, Mr. Seton, I have the pleasure of taking in my daughter on my arm.” He smiled warmly at her and drew her away. She cast Jin a backward glance, but he had turned his attention onto the terrace again.

  Not the terrace, in fact. He was staring beyond, at the sea.

  Chapter 23

  Lady Justice

  In Care of Brittle & Sons, Printers

  London

  Dearest lady,

  Enclosed in this modest package find not a kettle of edibles nor another portrait of yourself (with a tail). I see how those trinkets of my affection may have missed the tide. I give to you now only that which any gentleman admirer might give to a lady: poetry. Samuel Taylor Coleridge, to be precise. I offer it because having received back all the gifts I have sent you, I need guidance as to what you may accept from me as gift. Quoth the Ancient Mariner:

  If he may know which way to go;

  For she guides him smooth or grim.

  See, brother, see! how graciously

  She looketh down on him.

  My lady, looketh down on me with gracious mercy and return not this humble gift.

  Yours &c,

  Peregrine

  Secretary, The Falcon Club

  To Peregrine, at large:

  You preen. You strut. You will be plucked. Then I will have only this to say to you, “The game is done! I’ve won! I’ve won!”

  Lady Justice

  Chapter 24

  Mr. Yale departed the following day. Viola went with him into the foyer, where he took her hand and lifted it close to his lips but did not kiss it.

  “It has been a remarkable pleasure, Miss Carlyle. I hope to see you in town anon.”

  “Thank you. You have been very kind.”

  “Kindness has little to do with it.”

  “I don’t think you know what it has to do with.” She twisted her lips. “That was inelegantly said. Or at least grammatically unclear, I think. And after all your coaching.”

  “You are charming, Miss Carlyle.”

  “I still have not mastered which glass is meant for which beverage or how to fasten my garters.”

  “Or apparently which matters are inappropriate to discuss with a gentleman.” His gray eyes twinkled. “But, no worry. A footman will always see to the former, and another man altogether is no doubt quite happy about the latter.”

  Her cheeks warmed.

  He grinned. “Do you know, I believe I will kiss your hand after all. I mayn’t be allowed in the future.”

  She snatched her fingers away. He chuckled, donned his hat, and left.

  Lady Emily stood in the doorway to the foyer and came forth now. She wore spectacles the color of her short silvery-gold hair, and carried a book.

  “Has he gone for good?” Her voice was unusually bright.

  “Yes. He likes to tease you. Why is that?”

  “Because he hasn’t a thought in his head. I prefer Mr. Seton. He does not plague a woman with idiotic banter trying to pass it off as conversation.”

  Since their frustrating conversation on the terrace, Mr. Seton had not plagued Viola with any conversation at all. She had not seen him to be plagued or to plague in return.

  “Mr. Seton is taciturn,” she mumbled.

  “No. He is a thinking man, Miss Carlyle. Such men are not to be dismissed as merely taciturn.”

  “A thinking man?”

  “He reads.” She opened her book as though searching for something in it. “ ‘Words frighten not him who blanches not at deeds.’ Sophocles. I encountered him in the library this morning settled comfortably with Herodotus. An inestimable companion.”

  Herodotus? It could be coincidence. Then why did her heart beat now as it had that evening when he stood at her cabin door and she touched him for the first time?

  She adopted her most innocent posture. “Herodotus? Did another gentleman arrive at Savege Park that I have yet to meet?”

  “Herodotus perished in Greece over two thousand years ago. I should hope he is not present at this gathering.” She looked so sincere. Viola laughed.

  Lady Emily’s emerald eyes narrowed. “You quiz nearly as well as Mr. Yale, Miss Carlyle.” But she grinned.

  “You do not hate him, do you?”

  “Unfortunately I cannot. He helped me in a difficult situation with my parents and I cannot forget that, although I certainly wish to. He is like a bothersome elder brother.”

  “I am glad. I like him. He has been very good to me.”

  Lady Emily bent her fair head over her volume anew. “I should not account that a particular accomplishment on his part, Miss Carlyle.” She turned another page. “You are quite easy to like. If all ladies were more like you I shouldn’t mind going about in society half so much.” With that, she wandered through the opposite door, head in her book.

  After lunch from which the gentlemen were absent, Viola went to the library seeking out something or another to read. More than once.

  She was the greatest idiot alive. He was not there, of course. Back in the parlor, Lady Fiona said the gentlemen had gone out riding. Viola considered going to the stable and saddling up a horse, but she didn’t know how.

  The gentlemen returned just before dinner. In the drawing room Sir Tracy said many pretty things to her, but she didn’t mind his foolishness. At least he spoke to her.

  At dinner and afterward during tea conversation was lively and general and Jin did not come near her. She had learned enough of polite manners to know that she could not very well abandon her seat and put herself near him. But she would if he showed any interest in her doing so, which he did not. He seemed distracted, his attention little on the group and occasionally directed toward the terrace again.

  She slept poorly, listening to Madame Roche’s snoring through the wall fr
om the bedchamber beside hers and wondering where his bedchamber might be. The idea that he might be in one of the more accessible rooms now, perhaps in the parlor having a drink or playing billiards with Alex and Sir Tracy, nearly inspired her to dress and go searching. But the wound to her pride would not allow it. He did not want her; she would not chase after him.

  The following day, Serena enjoined the ladies to take tea with her at the teahouse in Avesbury, a quaint establishment beside the modiste’s shop. After the repast, Serena took Viola alone next door.

  “What are we doing, Ser?” She looked about the tiny place stacked with bins of ribbons and laces and skeins of fabric. “I am certain Mrs. Hamper delivered all my dresses directly to-” Her hand flew to her mouth. “Holy Mary Magdalene. For me?”

  Serena’s delight shone so clearly, the shimmering gown in the dressmaker’s arms must be for her.

  “Do you like it?”

  Viola reached out to stroke the butter-soft silk in the perfect shade of sunset, sewn with tiny pearls and sequins across the bodice and dripping down the filmy skirt like rain falling through sunshine.

  “How could I not? But-”

  “It is for the party tomorrow night. The gowns we made for you are all so lovely yet none of them suited a truly grand celebration.”

  Viola’s eyes widened. “Do not tell me this party is for me.”

  “It is. Everyone for miles around has heard you are here. They are all mad to meet you again after so many years.” Serena’s face crinkled. “But… you do not want this?”

  “Of course I do.” Not at all. The mere idea of being the center of this sort of attention turned her hands cold. She was certain to do something atrociously wrong and shame Serena, Alex, and the baron. “Thank you, Ser. You are so generous and I will be happy to meet everyone again. I wonder if I will remember them?” She didn’t much care. She wanted only the company of one man whose company she would soon be denied forever.

  Malta. Malta. Halfway across the world… Wasn’t it?

  When they returned home she went to the library. He was not there, but a gold-embossed atlas of the world was. She flipped open the huge volume, found England, and traced a path all the way to the boot of Italy with her fingertip. She blew out a giant breath. Good Lord, she was acting like a child, just as he had said. But the tear upon her cheek came from a woman’s sorrow.

  She scrubbed it off, slammed the book shut, and shoved it back in its place on the shelf.

  She didn’t give a fig where he went or what he did. She would be perfectly fine without him. And perhaps when the project of becoming a lady finally wearied her beyond endurance she would go back to Boston where she belonged. If Alex floated her a loan, she could purchase a new ship and, better equipped, take on new projects. The trip to Port of Spain with that cargo might have been lucrative if she had gone about it with the intention of making money. She would hire out her ship to one of those outrageously wealthy merchants like Mr. Hat, and pay back her brother-in-law within a year or so. Hopefully. With a truly sturdy vessel she would also be able to return to England every so often to visit her family. That would be lovely. Activity suited her so much better than this ladylike sitting around waiting for something to happen, or waiting for other people to make decisions for her such as throwing a big party at which everyone for miles about would attend, or waiting for a man to look at her again like he wanted her and wished to tell her something significant.

  Oh, God.

  She pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes and drew a long, shuddering breath. She did not wish to return to Boston or the sea. She only wanted Jin. But she was not to have him. She must get a hold of herself. Straightening her shoulders, she marched to the door, pulled it open, and slammed into a hard body.

  Jin grasped her shoulders. And just like that, she was lost, drowning in the pleasure of touching him again, heat filling her. She dragged lashes that seemed remarkably heavy up to see his beautiful mouth hovering above hers, a muscle working in his jaw. In silence she begged, Kiss me. Kiss me.

  He put her away from him, turned, and disappeared down the corridor.

  Shaking, confused, and furious that for the first time in her life she could not manage to tell a man exactly what she was thinking, Viola went to find Serena to help prepare for the party the following day-the grand event that would introduce her into polite society, when all she wished was to be back sitting on the forecastle of her old ship in the sunset with an Egyptian pirate.

  Her sister reclined on the chaise in her dressing chamber draped in a blue dressing gown, a tiny bundle of infant in the crook of her arm.

  “You are very relaxed for a woman about to have a party,” Viola commented.

  “I am savoring a moment of peace. I have spent the day greeting all our guests who will remain the night here and seeing to everything that needed seeing to. Now my husband is managing the rest. He is quite good at throwing parties.” She smiled a sweet, private sort of smile. Viola’s chest ached a little.

  “Did Papa hate Mama after she died, or only Fionn?”

  Serena’s eyes popped open. “I don’t believe he hated either of them.”

  “No. I am quite certain he hated my father.” Viola toyed with the string of her delicate gold and white fan painted with exotic birds. Serena had just given it to her, after Jane strapped her into her pretty gown and fussed with her hair. “He was remarkably uncivil to Mr. Seton when they spoke the other night. Especially when he said the word ‘sailor.’ He nearly choked on it.”

  “He did?” Serena chewed on her lower lip. “That doesn’t sound like Papa at all. But I guess it should come as no surprise given Mama and Fionn’s attachment to one another.”

  “I suppose devotion that lasts ages despite them never seeing one another is impressive.” Again she had not seen Jin all day, yet her nerves tangled merely thinking of spending the evening with him. That she would be spending the evening with about seventy other people really mattered very little.

  “They never should have met, let alone spoken.” Serena sighed. “But they did, and he could not give her up, nor she him entirely.”

  “No wonder Papa dislikes sailors.”

  “You are a sailor and he loves you very much.”

  “May I enter?” Dressed formally, the earl radiated the sort of elegant, confident masculinity a woman could not fail to notice. Viola had heard enough from Madame Roche to suggest that in the past many women in fact had noticed Alex Savege. How her kind, dreamy sister had ever seriously considered the suit of such a man, Viola marveled. But there could be no doubt of his fidelity to Serena now; his devotion was patently clear.

  “Do come in.” Serena stroked her fingertip along the crown of Maria’s wooly head. “Your daughter has just fallen asleep, so shh.” Her glance flickered over him. “You are quite handsome tonight, my lord.”

  “I must make a vain attempt to meet your splendor, my lady.” He bowed. “I do not wish to shame you.”

  “But I might.” Viola wrinkled her nose.

  “Of course you won’t,” Serena said firmly. “You look beautiful, and you have excelled in nearly every lesson Mr. Yale gave you.” Her eyes danced.

  “Nearly being the operative word. I stepped all over Alex’s toes while we danced-don’t deny it.”

  “If you do not wish to dance tonight,” he assured, “you needn’t.”

  “I suppose it would be all right if I danced only with you and Papa. But to step on a stranger’s toes, that I should rather not do.”

  “Jinan is not a stranger,” Serena said. “You can step on his toes and he won’t mind it at all. Tracy won’t either.”

  The earl leaned his broad shoulders against the door frame. “Jin at a party like this is a marvel in itself. When Yale made the announcement the other day that he was departing I half expected Jin to take to the road with him. That he has remained here longer than a day astounds me.”

  “It has been nearly two years since you have seen one another.�
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  “That wouldn’t matter to him. His loyalties and affections don’t operate on those terms. But I have never seen him so restless. He is not himself.”

  “Perhaps he is merely at a loss for suitable activity. He must miss his ship.” Serena’s gaze slipped to her. “As perhaps you do, too, Vi?”

  Viola’s mouth was dry. “Only a little.”

  “Serena,” Alex continued, “do not be surprised when he departs as abruptly as he arrived. Tomorrow is as likely as next week.”

  “I will expect it. I am not all that ignorant of the ways of sailors, my lord.” Her eyes twinkled. Alex smiled. Viola’s heart felt as though it might implode.

  She stood. “I will go finish preparing now.” She hurried to the door.

  “But you are already pre-”

  She fled. She could not bear to imagine him gone. Not again. Not so soon. Because then it truly would be good-bye. He would leave and she would never see him again and she would be much better off for it.

  Damn him. Damn him for returning and oversetting her so thoroughly. Oversetting? She was not overset like some maidenly ninny. She was confused and thought perhaps that any moment, the moment he chose to leave abruptly as Alex prophesied, her heart would finally break.

  Guests had been arriving all day. By the time the sun set, dipping over the ocean in a froth of gold and pink stripes, the house was brimming. It was not too large a gathering, Madame Roche assured her.

  “Jusque le petit fête. No more than one hundred of the peoples.”

  One hundred seemed like quite a lot of the peoples to Viola. All richly garbed and talking of town and when they would return for the fall session, they seemed enormously elegant and sophisticated. Servants wandered about with trays of champagne as ladies gossiped in little clusters and gentlemen partook of wine and stronger drink. In the drawing room, Lady Fiona played beautifully on the pianoforte, followed by another young lady who also sang. There was much animated conversation, more music by a hired quartet, and a buffet supper, and finally dancing. Candles glimmered on every surface. Laughter spilled onto the terrace lit with paper lamps and dancers followed into the warm, blustery night. All indulged in the evening’s pleasures, smiles and gaiety abounding.