Page 31 of Runaway Countess (Those Wild Whitbys #2)

Given the events of the past few days, Jenny was prepared to grit her teeth and endure a tense and awkward evening. Any such fears were immediately dispersed when she and Lord Kendrick entered the drawing room to discover Georgiana and Evelina fighting a duel with a pair of knitting needles, while Isobel played thrilling music to accompany each blow.

“Watch out, Kendrick,” said Lucius. “They are re-enacting your match against Cassandra. Miss Smythe was not there to witness it, you see, and they did not wish for her to feel left out.”

Elspeth was clutching a handkerchief to her chest, nearly crying with laughter.

Lord Kendrick pulled up a chair and joined the spectators with interest. “How droll. Which lady has taken up my part?”

“See if you can guess,” said Lucius, just as Georgiana received an apparently fatal blow from her older sister and began staggering about in a faint. Kendrick winced and reached out for Cassandra’s hand to support his wounded pride.

“Will they ever forgive me for all I put you through this summer?”

“No,” said Lucius, giving him a broad grin. “None of us will. Best get used to it.”

“Ah, there’s my girl!” Mr Gage’s broad country tones cut through the sound of clashing knitting-needles like a blunt kitchen knife through a head of cabbage. Sebastian had sent to the King’s Head to invite him to dinner – had insisted upon it, in fact. Jenny greeted him with a kiss on the cheek and a warm smile. After the shock of his first arrival, she was relieved to find it a pleasure to see him.

Mr Gage had been playing cards with Horace Whitby, who rose and tucked his silver-tipped cane under his arm as he came to greet Jenny.

Jenny curtseyed. She had not yet been officially introduced to Sebastian’s father. As a servant, of course, she had not dared make a close study of Horace. Her imagination had painted him as something of a cruel, careless person – the sort of man who took other’s money without compunction and who laughed at the trouble he made.

She saw at once that she had done Horace an injustice. The Whitby patriarch looked worn out and sheepish, though his frame was still robust. His clothes hung loose on it, as though he had not been eating enough to sustain himself. There were shadows under his eyes that spoke of sleepless nights.

He smiled when he saw her. There was such kindness in that smile that Jenny immediately understood why all his children still loved him.

“I am so glad to meet you, Miss Cartwright,” he said, taking her hand in his large one and squeezing it warmly. “You must call me Horace. Do not hesitate to ask me for anything you require. You are part of our family now, and this house is your home.”

“Thank you,” said Jenny. Mr Whitby pressed her hand a moment longer.

“I wish to tell you, Miss Cartwright, that I…” His voice roughened, but he gathered his strength to continue. “I am delighted that Sebastian has found such a remarkable young woman for his chosen companion. Mr Gage has told me a little of your history, and my wife has given me an account of your recent adventures.”

Jenny flushed. “I am afraid that my courtship with Sebastian was not entirely… conventional.”

Horace’s eyes sparkled. “But Sebastian is not a conventional fellow, dear girl! He will live a life of adventure, whether we will it or not, and he needs a girl to go through it all with him.” A shadow passed over his face. “The worst pain of my present embarrassment has come from the fear that my children would have to marry for – well, for money. All I ever wanted for Sebastian – for all of them – was a true companion. A spouse as loving and faithful as Harriet has been to me, through thick and thin, in good times and in bad.” He gripped Jenny’s hand tighter, looking at her with painful sincerity. “I should have trusted in him more, for he has found you, and you have put up with all manner of mischief already!”

Jenny placed her free hand on top of Horace’s and leaned in conspiratorially. “It’s worse than that. I’m afraid I even enjoyed it.”

“There you are!” Horace let her go, letting out a rumble of laughter. “I could not be more delighted, dear girl. Nor more proud of my dashing lad.”

“Mr Whitby?”

“Horace, please.”

“Horace.” She smiled, but kept her voice low. “Would you please do me the great favour of telling Sebastian all you just told me? I think he would be glad to hear it.”

The dinner gong rang out. Mrs Whitby stood in the doorway, giving the brass disc a few more blows than usual, until the knitting needle sword fight and piano playing and all conversation had ceased. “That’s better,” she said, as the echoes died away. “Gracious, we are grown so many in number that I shall need a kettle drum to call you all together! Are we all here?”

Sebastian was not, nor Lord Beeston, but since there was no sound of clashing blades or smashing furniture, Jenny hoped that was a good sign.

“They will simply have to catch up with us,” said Mrs Whitby decisively. “In we go, my dears. I am absolutely famished!”

Horace gave Jenny’s arm a reassuring pat and went to join his wife at the head of the dinner procession. His face was thoughtful as he went.

Sebastian wondered why his parents had ever bothered hosting parties. Their own family unit was more than raucous enough to fill the rambling old manor with laughter and chatter until late in the evening. The candles burned low in the drawing room while Isobel played and his sisters danced, while his mother fluttered about taking flowers from the vases to design wedding bouquets, and while Lucius and Kendrick flung open the patio doors and wandered into the warm summer’s evening to skim stones along the surface of the ornamental pond. Even Lord Beeston sat and listened with every appearance of courtesy to Mr Gage’s discourse on the year’s turbulent lettuce prices.

Jenny and Georgiana made a circuit of the room, arm in arm and smiling together in a manner that was faintly alarming.

“Jasmine,” murmured Mrs Whitby, pausing to tuck a fragrant sprig into Jenny’s hair as she passed. “Yes, jasmine suits you perfectly. Ah, Mr Gage, my husband is longing for a partner at piquet! Will you oblige him?”

Jenny raised an eyebrow at Lord Beeston as Mr Gage ambled off to the card table. “Well, Arthur, what is your opinion of my dear brother-in-law, now that you have had the pleasure of his company?”

Beeston returned her a glassy-eyed smile. “Two thousand pounds was not enough.”

“Excuse me,” said Sebastian, feeling off-kilter in a way he could not entirely place, “but since when were the two of you on first name terms?”

“What an odd question, Sebastian,” said Georgiana, with a look of surprise. “Only a few days ago they were engaged to be wed! Surely you wouldn’t rather they were unfriendly?”

“Well, no, but –”

“Jenny and I have just promised to write to each other weekly,” Georgiana continued, “since we know you and Arthur will not manage to keep up with each other’s news if we do not.”

“That is a good idea,” said Beeston gravely. “Jenny is a far better correspondent than I.”

“This is all extremely irregular,” said Sebastian, feeling stiff as a board.

“Yes,” said Georgiana, laughing, “but it is your own fault, Sebastian.”

“And it’s much better than the alternative,” Jenny added. “Not even a single pistol at dawn. How civilised we are!”

Sebastian steered her swiftly away from his laughing sister and her poker-faced fiancé. “ Arthur ,” he muttered, as though Beeston’s first name were a personal insult.

“You will have to take care you do not call me Lady Beeston again,” said Jenny blithely. “That will be Georgiana’s title soon. It would be very odd if you should get us mixed up.”

“Yes, imagine!” interjected Mrs Whitby, catching the words of the conversation if not their actual meaning. “Lady Beeston! A countess! Isn’t it marvellous? And you must not worry at all, Evie,” she added, turning solicitously to her eldest daughter, who was leaning on the balustrade at the edge of the patio with an untouched glass of champagne in one hand. “I’m sure nobody will remark upon you being the last sister unwed, even though you are the eldest.”

Evie tried, unsuccessfully, to conceal a wince. “I believe you just remarked upon it yourself, Mama.”

“Did I? Well, forewarned is forearmed, as they say. You bore it magnificently.”

Evie inclined her head gracefully, pressed her untouched glass of champagne into her mother’s hands, and turned her around to point her in the direction of another flower arrangement. With Mrs Whitby was safely disposed of, she nodded towards the twilit lawn, where a glowing candelabra and a blanket were arranged before the ornamental pond. Kendrick, Lucius and Cassandra were waiting there, with a few plates of sweetmeats and a pot of hot tea.

“I am calling the Sibling Parliament into session,” said Evie, tucking her hand companionably into Jenny’s arm as they joined the others. “I do not mind at all that you have all paired off, except that it will leave me as the sole focus of Mother’s matchmaking efforts this coming Season. Worse still, I have no dowry and the spectre of a failed romance looming over my head. Once the excitement of all the weddings wears off, I am afraid our dear mother will become rather desperate on my behalf. Someone must help me escape.” She sat down on the blanket and lifted the lid of the teapot to check whether it had brewed enough.

Sebastian arranged a pair of cushions to make a comfortable spot for Jenny. She hesitated a moment before sitting down, as though not sure whether the grandiose term Sibling Parliament included her. Evie glanced up and set out a teacup for her. “You are indispensable, Miss Cartwright. You are the only person capable of making Sebastian behave.”

Jenny sat, and Sebastian knew he ought to make some sharp riposte to his sister, but the moment Jenny’s shoulder settled against his all desire to argue left him.

He was too contented. It was all too sweet.

“Cass and I are not going to Town this Season,” said Kendrick, “but Thistle Hall is always open to you.”

“No good,” said Sebastian. “It’s open to our mother, too. Your mother will let her in to winkle Evie out again, like a Frenchman with a pin for a snail.” He made a graphic gesture to demonstrate his meaning, stabbing the poor illusory snail once or twice for good measure. Perhaps, even with Jenny at his side, he was still a tad quarrelsome.

“My mother will not be mistress of Thistle Hall this winter,” said Kendrick, shooting a fond glance at Cassie. “Cass will.”

“Yes,” said Cassie. “And should our mothers join forces against me, you’ll find me safely hidden in the nearest stable. I don’t pick fights I cannot win.”

“Hold up,” said Lucius. “We are not all here. Where is Georgie?”

Sebastian pushed up onto his knees to look back at the house. Isobel and Elspeth were at the piano, playing a duet. His father was receiving a sound thrashing at the card table from Mr Gage. His mother was still dreamily arranging flowers.

“We left her with Arthur ,” he said, shooting a wry glance at Jenny. “But they seem to have gone astray.”

“Perhaps we should check the orangery,” said Evie blandly. Jenny jerked bolt upright at Sebastian’s side. He held in a snort of laughter.

“The orangery?” Lucius frowned. “Is Lord Beeston interested in flowers, Sebastian?”

“Not of the horticultural kind,” Sebastian answered cheerfully. Lucius choked on a mouthful of hot tea.

“Good lord, you don’t mean – surely you’re not suggesting – not in the orangery!”

“Not in the orangery?” Evie repeated, in mock incredulity. “Why, Lucius, surely you are well aware that the orangery is the correct and proper place for an illicit tryst.”

“We ought to go and – and do something about it!”

“That seems rather hypocritical, don’t you think?” said Evie, passing him a handkerchief.

Jenny relaxed again at Sebastian’s side as she realised that Lucius was the target of the teasing. Even in the candlelight, he could make out a rather delicious pink flush on her cheeks.

Lucius dabbed at the tea on his trousers and attempted to draw himself up sternly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Evie.”

“ I know what she’s talking about,” said Sebastian. “Mother put a gardener on guard to prevent any more horticultural appreciation going on.” He glanced down at Jenny, whose furious blush was offset in a particularly lovely manner by the spray of jasmine in her hair, and gave a wicked grin. “It very nearly scuppered a rather lovely morning.”

“In the orangery?” Lucius protested. “ My orangery?”

“Oh, come now,” sighed Evie. “You do not own the romantic potential of the orangery, Lucius.” She unfolded her fan with a snap and used it to cover her own devilish grin. “If that honour goes to anyone, it should really be the first person to, ah, plant the flag in the soil, as it were.”

Sebastian crowed. “No. With Lord Henry?”

Evie lowered her fan and made an ironic little bow while Lucius sunk his head into his hands. Cassie clinked her teacup against Evie’s, making a toast.

“This is appalling,” said Lucius. “No wonder our family is ruined.”

“Kendrick and I have never done anything illicit in the orangery,” said Cassie, with an air of complaint.

“Not yet,” said Kendrick, leaning over to snatch a bonbon from Lucius’s plate. “What’s the protocol? Is there a booking system, or do we simply wait until Georgiana and Beeston are bowled out, like in cricket?”

“Kendrick!”

“Now, now, what’s all this?” asked Mrs Whitby, drifting over with a glass of champagne in her hand and a benevolent smile on her face that suggested she had already availed herself amply of Kendrick’s supplies. “I hope you are not teasing each other, children.”

“Not at all,” said Sebastian sweetly. “We were just complimenting Lucius on his horticultural skills. He has made the orangery such an inspiring place.”

“Some of those plants are so exotic,” Cassie agreed, giving Lucius’s shoulder a gentle pat. “I had no idea such things were possible in the natural world.”

“Such voluptuous flowers,” said Evie, fluttering her fan. “Such invigorating fruit.”

“One merely has to step inside,” said Jenny, with a breathy sigh, “to be overwhelmed by Nature’s bounty.”

“Miss Cartwright,” Lucius protested weakly. Sebastian had to restrain himself from applauding her. She had managed the transition from mortification to mockery with such perfection that it was as though she had known them all for years.

“Ah, the orangery,” said Mrs Whitby, her eyes growing distant. “I’m afraid Lucius can’t take all the credit, my dears. There’s always been something rather special about that place. In fact, without that orangery, I daresay several of you children might never have been thought of.”

The Whitby siblings froze in horror. Their mother hardly noticed. She pressed her fingers to her lips, let out a little giggle at some fond memory which Sebastian fervently hoped she would keep to herself, and blew them all a kiss. “Do not stay up too late, children! I’ll see you in the morning. Good night!”

“Shut up, Kendrick,” said Sebastian, through gritted teeth.

“But I didn’t say anything!”

“You were about to.”

Lucius rose to his feet and straightened out his shirt cuffs with brisk, stiff movements. “Isobel must never hear of this,” he said darkly.

“What about my parliament?” protested Evie.

“Let’s sleep on it,” said Cassie, putting an arm around her. “There’ll be enough households between us that you shall never lack a safe refuge, Evie. You will not be left behind. Nor will you have to marry unless you truly wish to.” She glanced over Evie’s head to Jenny, who returned her a nod of agreement. “Even if we have to pack Mother off to sea with Sebastian and Miss Cartwright to keep the matchmaking at bay.”

Evie gave a smile so watery that it seemed the brave face she had worn all summer might at last be about to crack.

Kendrick jumped to his feet. “Chilly out here, isn’t it?” he remarked, and began vigorously shaking out the picnic blanket while Cassie pulled Evie to her feet and bid them all a hasty goodnight.

“What happened between her and Lord Henry?” asked Jenny, in a soft voice. She slipped her hand into Sebastian’s. “It sounds as though it was rather serious.”

“She won’t say,” said Lucius, taking the picnic blanket from Kendrick and folding it over his arm. “Nor will she say a word against him. Only that, in the end, it turned out they did not suit.”

“I thought she was holding back for my benefit,” said Sebastian. “To prevent any, uh…” He pulled out an imaginary pistol and mimed firing a shot into the bushes. Jenny shook her head fondly and gave his arm a squeeze.

“No,” said Kendrick. “Even Cass doesn’t know the details.” He clapped a hand to Lucius’s shoulder. “I’ll take my leave. It’s late. Try not to dream of oranges.”

He made it halfway to the house, whistling merrily, before Lucius caught on to what he had said and gave chase.

That left Sebastian, and Jenny, and the purloined candelabra scattering sparks of candlelight across the glossy surface of the pond.

Her head sank against his shoulder. His arm wrapped around her waist. He breathed in the scent of her, taking a moment to let the warmth of her body settle into his.

“You must miss them all terribly when you’re at sea,” she said. “I think now I will, too.”

“I do,” he admitted. “But, whenever I’m home, I’m always restless to away again.” He lifted her chin with a finger and pressed a soft kiss against her lips. “It will be easier this time. I’ll have you beside me.”

Her hand crept up through his hair, pulling him in closer.

The manor would be tenanted when they returned from Malta. His siblings, all married and moved on. But it did not matter. It was Jenny who was home to him now, more than either the crumbling manor or the salt tang of the sea had ever been.

The piano music had stopped. Jenny gave him one last kiss and let him go. “I will take Elspeth upstairs to bed. She must be exhausted.”

Sebastian watched her go on ahead and gather up the wilting Elspeth from behind the piano.

Yes, he wanted to be at sea. Not only for the thrill of it, or the chance to prove his worth.

He wanted Jenny to himself. He wanted the long, close-quartered voyage, and the uncertain adventure of arriving in a foreign port where everyone was new to both of them.

He wanted to hold her in his arms as the sea rocked them to sleep. To show her the cold, clear starlight on a cloudless night in the middle of an ocean. To share things with her that neither of them had ever experienced, and which nobody on land would ever hope to understand.

Soon .

Patience did not come naturally to Sebastian, but he’d learn it for her sake.

As Sebastian made his way through the drawing room, his father caught his eye and gestured for him to stay behind.

Jenny hesitated in the doorway a moment, an arm around Elspeth’s shoulders, and gave Sebastian a small nod of encouragement. Then she left.

Horace was rubbing his thumb over the silver wolf’s head on top of his cane.

“May I have a word?” His tone was oddly gentle.

That cane had been a feature of Sebastian’s father so long that he had long ago ceased to notice it. Now, suddenly, with Horace seeming older and frailer than ever before, Sebastian was struck by its presence.

A lifetime ago, in a war Sebastian had never known, his father had been wounded, and returned home an altered man. He had never spoken of it. Then again, Sebastian had never asked.

“Of course, Father,” he said, pulling a chair up close. “Go ahead.”

THE END