Gentle Rogue (27 page)
He smiled as he said it, and sat down at the foot of the bed where he could lean back against the bedpost to face her. She wasn’t fooled. He wanted something else. And whenever Thomas didn’t come right
to the point, the point was almost invariably delicate or distasteful, neither of which she cared to face just now.
As for talking to him again, she’d already decided that she had to assure him he was forgiven and blameless
before
her condition became known, so he wouldn’t feel guilty or feel he was partly responsible. He wasn’t. She could have kept James Malory from making love to her if she’d really wanted to, but she hadn’t wanted to. Her conscience could attest to that.
She might as well get it over with while he was here. “I’m sorry, Thomas, if I led you to believe that I’m angry with you. I’m not, you know.”
“I wasn’t the only one who had that impression. Drew assures me—”
“Drew is just being overprotective,” she insisted with a good deal of exasperation. “Honestly, it’s not like him to get so involved in our affairs. I can’t imagine why he—”
“Can’t you?” he interrupted gently. “It’s not like you to behave impetuously, but you have. He’s reacting to your reactions. So is Warren, for that matter. He’s being deliberately provoking—”
“He’s
always
provoking.”
Thomas chuckled. “So he is, but usually he’s a bit more subtle about it. Let me put it another way. He’s actively looking for a brawl just now, and I don’t think he cares who obliges him.”
“But why?”
“It’s one way of getting rid of emotions that he has trouble containing.”
She made a moue of distaste. “Well, I wish he’d find another outlet. I wish he’d fall in love again.
That
would give him a different direction for his passions. Then maybe he’d stop—”
“Did I hear you correctly, Georgina Anderson?”
She flushed hotly at his censuring tone, having forgotten for a moment that she was talking to a brother. “For God’s sake, Thomas,” she said defensively. “Do you think I know absolutely nothing about life?”
“No more than you should know, which is very little about
that
side of life.”
She groaned inwardly, but staunchly maintained, “You have got to be joking. After all the conversations I’ve overheard in this house? Granted, I shouldn’t have listened, but when the subject is soooo fascinating…” She grinned when he leaned his head back against the post, closing his eyes. “Have I made my point, Thomas?”
One eye popped open. “You’ve changed, Georgie. Clinton calls it bossiness, but I’d call it—”
“Assertiveness, and it’s about time I showed some, don’t you think?”
“Willfulness is more like it.”
“Well, I’m due some of that, too.” She grinned.
“And downright lippy.”
“So I’ve been told recently.”
“Well?”
“Well, what?”
“What’s responsible for this new sister I’ve come home to find?”
She shrugged. “I guess I’ve just figured out that I can make my own decisions about my life,
and
accept the consequences for them.”
“Such as going off to England?” he asked carefully.
“For one.”
“There’s more?”
“I’m not getting married, Thomas,” she said so softly he assumed she referred to Malcolm.
“We know that, sweetheart, but—”
“Ever.”
Fireworks going off inside the room couldn’t have had more impact than that one word, especially when every instinct told him she wasn’t just being melodramatic, was in fact absolutely in earnest.
“Isn’t that…a bit drastic?”
“No,” she said simply.
“I see…no, actually I don’t. In fact, it looks like I’m as bad as Drew is at making assumptions. By the way, he’s terribly upset.”
She stood up, sensing by his tone that the conversation was going to take a turn now that she’d rather avoid for the time being. “Thomas—”
“He heard you crying last night.”
“Thomas, I don’t—”
“He insists your heart is broken. Is it, Georgie?”
He sounded so sympathetic, she felt the tears coming on again. She quickly gave him her back until she could get her emotions under control. Thomas, of course, had the patience to wait.
Finally she said in a forlorn little voice, “It feels like it.”
It wouldn’t have occurred to Thomas to ask his next question a few hours ago, but he was done with making assumptions. “Because of Malcolm?”
She swung around in surprise. She’d so hoped she wouldn’t have to say any more. But Thomas was being entirely too perceptive, not to mention persistent.
She wondered why she was even trying to be misleading. What did it matter now? Because she didn’t want to talk about James. Talking about him would have her crying again, and she didn’t want to cry any more. Damn, but she’d thought last night’s bout would hold her for a while.
She dropped back on the bed with a sigh. “I really wish all I felt now was what I felt when I discovered Malcolm’s betrayal. That was so easy to deal with…and get over. I was merely furious.”
“So it
is
something else that has you so melancholy?”
“Melancholy?” She laughed shortly. “How little that really says.” And then she asked a question of her own. “Why haven’t you married yet, Thomas?”
“Georgie…”
“Demonstrate your patience, brother. Why haven’t you?”
“I haven’t found what I’m looking for yet.”
“But you are looking?”
“Yes.”
“Clinton isn’t, and look how many years it’s been since his wife died. He says he just doesn’t want to go through that again. Warren isn’t, but of course he’s still nursing his bitterness and will likely change his mind eventually, as fond as he is of children. Boyd isn’t. He claims he’s much too young to settle down. Drew, now, says he’s not ready to give up the fun of looking—”
“He
told
you that?” Thomas came very close to raising his voice.
“No.” She grinned. “That was just one of the things I overheard.”
He gave her a purely disgruntled look. “What’s your point, Georgina? That you’ve decided you’re not going to look anymore?”
“No, I’ve just met someone with still another view on marriage. And I can safely say he thinks hell would be preferable.”
“My God!” Thomas gasped as all the pieces came together. “No wonder it didn’t make sense. Who is he?”
“An Englishman.”
She cringed, waiting for the explosion. But this was Thomas. He merely asked, “What’s his name?” But Georgina had already said more than she’d intended to.
“His name doesn’t matter. You won’t be meeting him, and I’ll never see him again.”
“Did he know how you felt about him?”
“No…maybe. Oh, I don’t know.”
“How did he feel about you?”
“He liked me well enough.”
“But not enough to marry you?”
“I told you, Thomas, he thinks marriage is a fool’s mistake. And those were his exact words, no doubt said to keep me from hoping.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart, I truly am. But you know, this is no reason to set yourself against marriage. There will be other men, maybe not here, but Clinton means to take you to New Haven with him when he visits our two nieces. And if no one appeals to you there, Warren intends to take you to New York.”
She had to smile at that. Her brothers, all of them, meant well. And she’d enjoy seeing her nieces again. She had wanted to raise them herself when Clinton’s
wife died, but she’d been only twelve at the time and was being raised more or less by servants herself, or whichever brother was home at the time. So it had been decided that they’d live with their grandparents in New Haven, since Clinton was so rarely home himself. Fortunately, New Haven wasn’t so very far away.
But if she was going to visit anywhere, she’d have to do it soon, before she started showing and all hell broke loose. Maybe most of her brothers would be back to sea by then. She could hope.
Right now, she’d agree to anything to end this discussion, before Thomas thought to get even more personal in his questioning.
“I’ll consider going, Thomas…if you’ll do me a favor. Don’t tell the others about…well, what I’ve told you. They wouldn’t understand how I could fall in love with an Englishman. I don’t understand it myself. You know, I really couldn’t stand him at first, his arrogance, his…Well, you know how those blasted lords can be.”
“A lord, too?” He rolled his eyes. “No, I can’t see any good reason to mention that to my dear brothers. They’d likely want to start up the war again.”
“B
last it, Georgie! Don’t you know better than to do that to a man?”
Georgina blinked at Drew’s sharp tone, before his words sunk in. “Do what?” she asked innocently, already realizing by the way he was clutching the vase he was holding that he’d nearly dropped it when he’d glanced at her. Why she’d surprised him, though, she wasn’t sure, since she’d spoken to him when she entered the study.
“Come into a room looking like that,” he explained testily, glaring at the low cut of her evening gown.
She blinked again. “Well, for God’s sake, Drew, how am I supposed to look for a party? Should I have worn one of my old work dresses? Maybe my gardening one, replete with grass stains?”
“You know what I meant.” He glowered. “That one is much too—too—”
“There is nothing wrong with this gown. Mrs. Mullins, my seamstress, assured me it’s in very good taste.”
“Then Mrs. Mullins doesn’t have any.”
“Any what?”
“Good taste herself.” When that brought a gasp and then a narrowing of her chocolate eyes, Drew decided he’d better back off. “Now, Georgie, it’s not
so much the dress, but what it doesn’t cover, if you get my meaning.”
“I got your meaning right off, Drew Anderson,” she said indignantly. “Am I supposed to dress out of fashion just because my brother objects to the cut of my bodice? I’ll wager you’ve never complained about this particular style on other women, have you?”
Since he hadn’t, he decided it might be prudent to shut his mouth on the subject. But still—Damn, but she’d given him a turn. He’d known she’d blossomed into a little beauty, but this was broadcasting it from the mainmast.
Georgina took pity on his flushed discomfort. After all, she hadn’t had occasion to dress up the last few times Drew was home, so it had been several years since he had seen her in anything other than her modest day dresses—and more recently, her boy’s attire. She’d had this gown made up last Christmas for the Willards’ annual ball, but a severe cold had kept her from wearing it then. But the Grecian style was still in the height of fashion, as was the thinness of the material, in this case a sheer rose batiste over white silk. And her mother’s ruby necklace was the perfect touch to fill in the bare expanse below her neck, which Drew was objecting to.
But his objection really was a bit ridiculous. It wasn’t as if she were in danger of exposing herself. There was a good inch and a half of ribbon-threaded material above her nipples, a considerable amount compared to some gowns she had seen on other women. So a little cleft was showing. A little cleft was supposed to show.
“It’s all right, Drew.” She grinned now. “I prom
ise not to drop anything. And if I do, I’ll let someone else pick it up for me.”
He accepted that out gracefully. “See that you do,” but couldn’t resist adding, “you’ll be lucky if Warren doesn’t put a sack over your head.”
She rolled her eyes. This was just what she needed to make the evening go smoothly, brothers all over the room glaring at any man who got near her, or surrounding her themselves so no man could get near.
“What were you doing with that?” she asked, indicating the vase to change the subject.
“Just having a closer look at what’s cost us our China trade.”
Georgina had heard the story the night of her homecoming. The vase wasn’t just an antique, but a priceless piece of art from the Tang dynasty, some nine hundred years old, and Warren had won it in a game of chance. If that wasn’t incredible enough, he’d wagered his ship against it! If she hadn’t also heard that Warren was quite drunk at the time, she wouldn’t have believed it, since the
Nereus
was the most important thing in his life.
But Clinton had confirmed it. He’d been there at the time and hadn’t even tried to talk Warren out of the game, not that he could have. Apparently, he’d wanted the vase just as badly to take the risk of losing one of the Skylark ships. Of course, one ship was nothing in comparison to the value of that vase.
What neither of them had realized at the time was that the Chinese warlord who had wagered his vase against Warren’s ship had no intention of honoring the bet if he lost, which he did. A group of his followers had attacked them on the way back to their
ships, and if their crews hadn’t come to the rescue, neither of them would have survived that night. As it was, they just barely escaped Canton without having their ships fired upon. And having to leave so suddenly was the reason they were home much sooner than expected.
As she watched Drew carefully lock the vase back in Clinton’s desk, she remarked. “I’m surprised Clinton has taken it so well, that it will be a very long time before a Skylark ship dares venture into Chinese waters again.”
“Oh, I don’t know. As lucrative as the Canton trade was, I think he was getting tired himself of the long voyages. I know Warren was. And they did make several European stops on the way back, to establish new markets.”
She hadn’t heard that before. “Is England being forgiven then and considered for one of those markets?”
He looked at her and chuckled. “You must be joking. With as much money as they cost us with their arbitrary blockade before the war? Not to mention how many of their blasted warships stopped ours to impress their so-called deserters. It’ll be a cold day in hell before Clinton deals with an Englishman again, even if we were desperate for their trade, which we’re certainly not.”
Her grimace was inward. If there had been a secret hope that she might someday return to England to see James again, she might as well bury it. If only that trip to Jamaica hadn’t been his last, she could have gone back there easily enough. But he’d confessed
that he had only gone there to dispose of his holdings, that he was returning to England for good.