Read Red Jack's Daughter Online

Authors: Edith Layton

Red Jack's Daughter (8 page)

BOOK: Red Jack's Daughter
8.5Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Lord
Leith gave up his own reflections, to put up a hand to stop Jessica from braiding it up again. “No, leave it. It is lovely,” he said, unthinking.

Jessica seemed to, shrink back at his words and at what she caught a glimpse of in his unguarded face.

“It is,” he said, recovering his bland, amused expression, “certainly unusual, and yes, you are right, not quite fashionable. But don’t say you are suddenly concerned with being at the peak of fashion, and only after being in one of Madame
Ce
leste’s frocks for the space of minutes?”

“But I don’t want to appear frivolous,” she said, looking
a
t him with trust again, “or spectacular, or as one who is trying to attract attention to myself.”

Or delicious, he thought, though he said calmly, “Of course not. But to hide it only calls more attention to it. The best tactic, I think,” he said reasonably, “is to simply live with it. For what you cannot hide, you must accept. After all, I cannot say that being tall as a treetop is the most comfortable way to go through life, but if I were to slouch o
r
creep, I would look very strange indeed.”

Jessica laughed a little at the thought of this imperio
us
gentleman crouching, and he said bracingly, “Come, we’ll le
t
the good Madame Celeste design some clothes that will suit and perhaps Aunt’s maid can style your hair in som
e
unobtrusive fashion, and we can forget the whole of it.

“Forget?” Lady Grantham said, startled into speech
.
“Are your wits begging, Nephew? Why, she’ll be a sensation.”

“No,” he said, giving his aunt a look of such force that she shrank backward. “Not at all. She will only look unexceptional.”

Understanding came to his aunt and she only nodded.

“You see,” Jessica said, “I don’t wish to be sensational In fact”—she laughed a little shakenly—“I recall when I was fourteen I concocted a brew that the apothecary book promised would turn my hair dark. And so it did. I was delighted
.
But each morning my pillow was a bit blacker, and after I combed it, little bits of soot kept falling. After a week Cook said I looked like a tortoiseshell cat. And so I did. Then is no way that the color could stay, you see,” she confided i
n
her husky voice.

“Well I know it,” Lady Grantham said ruefully, remembering the results of one experiment when her tresses firs
t
began to gray; she had had to keep indoors for a month.

“But your father,” Lord Leith said as he turned to open the door and began to shoo his aunt away from another promising letter upon the desk, “as a fellow named Red Jack, he had to have such a mop as well.”

“He did,” Miss Eastwood said sadly, “but not so bright as mine. And,” she added, looking up at him, “he was a man.”

“Ah, yes,” was all he could reply, reading the infinite sadness in her eyes.

“A good day’s work, Alex,” Lady Grantham said to Lord Leith as he took his leave of her. “A dozen frocks on order, and two already in hand. And even now, my own little Nellie is fashioning her a suitable style for that mane of hers. Ollie will be pleased as Punch. You’ve done well and I thank you. But mind, you’re not free yet; you’ve promised to take her
for a
ride in the park when her clothes arrive and there’s the
theater
next week.”

“I hear and obey,” he said, taking his aunt’s hand and
touching h
is lips to it.


Shan’t be surprised if we get her popped off yet. She’s
well
enough in her own fashion,” his aunt mused. “Now if
you
can work your magic to the point of getting her to speak
as a
young lady should, we’ll be at the winning post.”


Is that how a proper lady should speak?” he asked,
grinning.


I’m too old to be proper,” she said airily, “and she’s too young to be improper. So, if you’ll leave off talking of horse-
flesh
and politics with her for a bit, we may wean her from
it.


And if I do,” he said quietly, “she won’t speak to me at
a
ll
.


That remains to be seen,” Lady Grantham said reflectively. “Now be off about your nefarious ways, Alex, I’ve got to oversee Nellie so there’s not a slip. I shouldn’t wonder if
that
little amazon don’t stab her with the scissors if she doesn't care for the cut.”

The tall gentleman bowed again and took himself off into lung shadows of the afternoon.

He returned to his town house, where he relaxed and read through the newspaper and then perused a small heap of cards
of
invitation that his man had left for him. He dined alone. When he was done, he went to his rooms and changed to more
formal
evening wear. Pocketing a few cards, he told his man not to wait up for him and went quietly out into the night.

He strolled the streets alone, ranging far in deep
a
bstracted thought, and did not even bother to peer into the
shadows
at alleyways of the quiet streets, as though he knew that his large form gave sufficient pause to any footpads. Then he straightened and made his way with more resolve back to the fashionable section of town.

Lord Leith, it was reported in some tattle the next day, ornamented Baron Oakes levee for the space of an hour, had a run of luck at Argyles, and then had a greater success at a less-reputable hell a few city blocks away. He advised young Percy Swithin on the purchase of a nag, accepted some unasked-for advice on matrimony from a bibulous Viscount
T
ravis, gently repulsed the attentions of Lady Travis, and shared a few jests with an old school friend. It was at an advanced hour of the night, when the lights in respectable establishments began to dim, that he made his way to the imposing, dignified white stone house.

A stolid butler showed him in and, taking his cloak, suggested that, as he was expected, he go upstairs. After takin
g
the flight of steps, he paused and knocked upon the door, although he knew he could have walked straight in, since he was at the moment providing funds for the house, the butler and the person who waited within. Still, he thought wryly, life was made bearable by the inclusion of such grace notes
.
The female who greeted him did not seem to agree.

“Alex,” she said with delight, opening the door, “why do you stand upon such ceremony? Especially when I have been waiting here for you so many hours?”

“You expected me, then?” he asked entering the bedroom. It was a tastefully furnished chamber; the only feature of it that was not perhaps in the highest reach of respectability was the coloring, which was composed of blatant red and scarlet hues, extending even to the coverings of the huge bed that dominated the room. That, he reminded himself with a smile, and the mirror that was placed in the ceiling above it.


I always await your pleasure, Alex,” the woman said, slipping up to him and reaching on tiptoe to link her hands behind his neck.

He bent to kiss he
r
slowly, and when he reached to enfold her more closely, she skipped out of his arms.

“Do take off your jacket, my dear,” she said, laughing, “and do sit and speak with me awhile, it has been ages.”

“I have spent an evening in talk, my dear. Is that all you offer me after this ‘age’ of a week?” he asked, standing quite still and watching her.

She laughed again and came close to bend her head submissively. As she spoke, she began to undo the buttons of his waistcoat.

“We can talk later, then,” she said softly, ever compliant
,
ever obliging, ever accommodating.

It was only later, as he was staring up at the red curtain that concealed the mirror over the bed—for he always insisted she cover it, saying lightly that such sport was fo
r
more vain men than he—that he at last did speak to her. She lay relaxed beside him, her dark hair tangled, her plump white
b
ody a soft gleaming shape in the dim light. She was not a beauty, he thought idly, looking over toward her. Her hips were too wide, her nose too long, her eyes too close set. For all that she was famous and expensive, she was not an exqui
s
ite. Such women seldom were. It was her wit, her cleverness, and her talent that had brought her to the top of an overcrowded profession. The men who sought her out did not
s
eek only beauty, for that was a cheap-enough commodity,
b
ut rather the more erotic temptations of making love with a
f
emale who might be an intellectual equal. He had met her at Harriet Wilson’s and he had gladly become her protector for a while, for such women had only transitory protectors. Neither did he have to rent rooms to house her, for she had her own establishment. He had only to pay a large sum while she was under his protection, and should he shear off from her, there was a long line of others who would be pleased to take
h
is place. In all, theirs was an easy, undemanding relationship.

Her dark hair and complexion reminded him of his
long term
mistress, whom he had reluctantly left in India, and her wit amused him. She valued him for his fame, which could only help her reputation as a woman of discretion, and for himself, since it was not often that she had the advantages of having both a keen mind and a comely person embodied in one patron.

He gazed at the bed hangings and thought now only of red. The color seemed to be haunting him today, he realized. To dispel the thought, he turned his head to her and stroked one large hand over her soft stomach.

“Have you ever wished to be a man?” he asked at length.

She laughed again, and rising to one elbow, she looked down at him. In one easy motion, she then swung her body atop his.

This time he laughed till she frowned down at him. Then he gently toppled her over and, propped on his elbows, looked down into her confused face.

“No, no. Not for that mode. I meant it truly. Have you ever wished to be a man?” he asked gently.

She thought for a moment, not quite hiding the calculation in her eyes. Then she answered the false answer that she thought would please him, for she was incapable of any othe
r
sort of reply.

“Of course,” she said, “so that then I could make love to myself and discover what it is that most pleases men.

He gave the subject up. Clearly, she would always sacrific
e
honesty for the sake of amusing and arousing him.

“Then,” he said softly, “there is no need to trouble. For I shall tell you that which you wish to know.”

Then, successful, she gave herself up to his embrace, and unsuccessful, he soon forgot the question.

 

5

Jessica
had not thought much of the idea of a mere amble
a
bout a city park; yet, when Lady Grantham had urged her to
get
into her new riding habit, one that Jessica privately thought a deal too dashing, she had obediently done so.
Though
a tame canter through the park was not her idea of high adventure, there had been little else to do that offered even that much diversion.

She had sat and read and stood and gazed out the window, or sat impatiently listening for any arrival at the door for three days. Lady Grantham had been pleased enough to see her so docile, thinking her eagerly waiting for her new wardrobe to arrive. Jessica did not think to inform her that it was news from her father’s solicitor that she was on fire to
re
ceive. Still, when Lord Leith arrived with two fine mounts in tow, Jessica had been happy enough to rush up the stairs mid scramble into the green riding habit that Lady Grantham h
a
d rhapsodized over. She had done up her hair, pleasing her hostess by agreeing to simply draw it up and allow it to fall naturally in back, and pleased herself by being able to set a comfortably concealing hat atop the whole creation.

Still, the hat was necessary for the costume—and roguish
a
s well, Lady Grantham allowed, for her hair could be glimpsed beneath it. And when the two ladies, for once in charity with each other, descended, Lord Leith expressed himself overwhelmed by how well Jessica looked. Much she cared, she thought as she eyed with delight the roan mare he had fetched for her, for even if she were forced to don a spangled
ball gown
for the excursion, it would be worth it to be able to exercise on so fine a creature.

She approved of her companion as well, for aside from that one unsettling moment when he had gazed at her and complimented her, he was the best of companions as they led their
mounts toward Hyde Park. Amused and cool, he set her at her ease, until the moment when he told her in an offhand, yet determined way that however foolish it seemed, they could do no more than gently canter or walk their horse
s
through the park.

“But why?” Jessica protested. “When it’s clear that they; would like to fly on such a beautiful day.”

“Because,” the gentleman said firmly, “the fur would fly when you got back if Lady Grantham heard you were abandoned enough to gallop on the paths. It simply isn’t done. One rides in the park to chat, to be seen, and to catch up on gossip; never, I fear, simply to ride.”

The park was bright with new spring green. The trees were tender-tipped with new leaf, the shrubbery was putting forth first flowers, and the air was as delightfully mild as a tepid bath. Jessica was toying with the idea of urging her mount to, more speed, despite her companion’s warning, but two things dissuaded her. One was the knowing look in Lord Leith’s eye as he saw her hands tighten on her reins; the other was the simple fact that if she had chosen to race, the only direction her mount could have taken would have been straight upward. For the paths were thronged with riders. Although they rode through verdant open spaces, the area was as crowded as the Swansons’ ballroom had been.

There were many mounted on horses as she herself was. But there was also a dizzying array of wheeled conveyances inching along the lanes as well. There were high-sprung phaetons in all colors, simple carriages, and vehicles of every devising, with every sort of crest blazoned on their sides, Masses of people were strolling the pedestrian paths. There was such a profusion of ladies’ parasols that they seemed to be some giant sort of radiant spring blooms covering the
;
park, quite dwarfing the beds of actual blossoms. Prides of old persons were arrayed upon the benches in great numbers, and there were even clutches of young children skipping alongside their governesses and nannies.

“You see,” Lord Leith said pleasantly, “I was safe in cautioning you. Unless you’re of a mind to commit murder, you’ll have to be sedate. Terribly sorry about that,” he added in an extremely unsorrowful tone.

Jessica laughed despite herself. “I’m not such a madcap as
that.
No, I’ll go quietly, I assure you, Alex. Only, whereas the sense in it? One could get more exercise taking the stairs,
I t
hink.”

He eyed her quizzically. The well-cut green of her costume complimented her neat figure; the hat, with its ridiculous
afterthought
of a plume, pointed out the dazzling contrast
be
tween her white skin and her outrageous hair. The bright sunlit day seemed to have been tailored exactly to her style. Already, he could see several gentlemen of his acquaintance urging their mounts in her direction. There’s the sense to it,
h
e thought, watching one young lordling neatly cut off another in his haste to reach her first. But he only said lan
guidly
, “They are taking the air, but that is exactly all they
are
willing to do with it.”

J
e
ssica laughed again and was about to retort to his sally with one of her own when a fresh-faced young gentleman
scarc
ely older than herself angled his mount close and cried,
“Leith
, I haven’t seen you in days, how are you, sir?”

Soon Jessica found herself forced to hold her mount to a
sta
nd as one and another and yet another gentleman hailed them. All were duly introduced to her. While some seemed
c
ontent to chat with her escort, though all the while darting looks at her, she found herself replying to the queries of oth
er
s. But hardly any sense could have been made of what she
sa
id, for no sooner did she begin to respond to one when she had in all politeness to answer another.

Seeing the clot in traffic that they had become and noting
Jess
ica’s growing unease, Lord Leith soon put an end to the
i
mpromptu meeting by declaring to all, “Come, fellows, Miss Eastwood’s mount is still fresh and we have to have
so
me exercise. We must be off, if only to save our necks, for we’re obstructing the road. I give you good day, gentlemen.”

“But who is she, Leith?” one round-faced gentleman
i
mplored in a loud whisper as the others began to drift away.

And what is her direction?”

“Good morning, Turner,” Lord Leith said decisively as he turned his horse and beckoned Jessica to follow. He smiled at
th
e young man’s disappointment. The fellow would find out
s
oon enough, he thought, and there was nothing like a little mystery to spur an interest.

No sooner had they ridden their horses on a few feet, and
Jessica was about to begin the first of many questions that had occurred to her, than they were hailed by a couple in
a
light barouche. When they had done with the civilities the
re
another regal-looking pair caught their attention as they rode past a stationary high-wheeled phaeton. Each time the
y
parted from one group, they were accosted by another.

It was when the sun was high in the sky, and when Jessi
c
a thought she would burst with impatience, that her esco
rt
cast a knowing eye over her o
v
erheated countenance. H
e
motioned her to follow him and they rode on farther and the
n
off to a side trail. Now, when they were hailed, he pause
d
more briefly, begging an impending engagement. As they went on, Jessica noted that they encountered fewer and fewer people. It was not long before she saw to her relief an
d
surprise that they rode quite alone and through a leafy narro
w
trail. Only the groom that had accompanied them from th
e
house yet followed, at his respectful distance.

“That was neatly done,” she breathed.

“Long experience,” he answered briefly, and then tu
rning
in his saddle, grinned down at her and asked casually, “Shoul
d
you like to see how well that roan can travel?”

“You know I should,” she said angrily, “but I’ve no doub
t
you’d have my head if I dared to let her out.

“Ah, but that was in the park proper.” He smiled. “An
d
now that you’ve shown you can be a good
little
girl, you ma
y
have a little gallop. But only so far as the end of th
e
meadow,” he added, pointing to a distant line of trees. “I know this is a seldom-frequented lane, yet beyond this secre
t
stretch lies another twist to the fashionables’
trail.”

But at the words “good little girl,” Jessica had given he
r
horse the spur, and they went flying down the trail. It wa
s
lovely, she thought, to feel the wind and the air and the movement of the animal beneath her, and it was with regre
t
that she finally pulled up beside Lord Leith. His great blac
k
horse had been the faster, and he was already halted an
d
motioning for her to stop when she reached the trees.

She was buoyed up by the pleasure of the exercise. Her ha
t
was askew, her color high, and a vagrant switch of hair ha
d
tumbled down across one flushed cheek. He looked down a
t
her sparkling eyes and glowing hair as she laughed up at hi
m
and cried out, “Oh, that was capital, Alex.”

There was nothing of the coquette and yet everything of
t
he siren in her excited abandon, and without pausing to
w
onder why, he felt random anger with her in that moment.

"Come,” he said so abruptly as to make her wonder if he
re
gretted their lapse of propriety because they had been seen
b
y someone else. But looking about, all she could see was
t
heir groom, making his way toward them.

“We have to return,” her escort said, regaining his easy
s
mile, “or else my dear aunt will think I have sold you to the gypsies.

“Do you know,” she confided as they rode sedately back through the park, “I have always wanted to see how they lived.”

“Somehow, I felt sure of that,” he replied wr
y
ly.

He was about to leave her at the entry to his aunt’s house when he caught a look of such sudden sorrow in her eyes that
he
impulsively gave both horses to the care of the groom and accompanied her inside. She led him into the blue salon. It had been such a shining sunny day that the inner house
see
med dark as a tomb by contrast, even though he had always admired the light touch his aunt had with the furnish
ings
of her home.

“Your aunt must be taking a nap; she always does so before lunch,” Jessica said as she seated herself in a chair close to
th
e window. “Do you care to wait for her?”

“Of course I shall,” he answered, seating himself,
e
ven though he had had little intention of doing so a moment past.


What are you plans for the afternoon, Jessica?” he asked
a
bsently, and noting the sadness returning, he realized that he had hit upon her problem, for she sat up and looked at him with approval.

"That’s just it, Alex,” she said at once. “I have none.”

He had great difficulty in repressing a smile. She could not know that most young misses of her age and station would have cut out their tongues before uttering such a phrase to a gentleman. But then, he remembered, so exactly would a young man speak if he were angling to accompany an older fellow upon his rounds.

“What?” he asked with a show of incredulity. “No reading to catch up on, no letters to write, no knitting or stitchery to unravel, no watercolors to paint, or instrument to play?”

“Oh, bother,” she said in exasperation, “I’ve read till my eyes crossed, there’s no one to write to since Ollie lives
so
close, I cannot knit or stitch, and,” she said with a sneer
,
“such ladylike pursuits as painting and playing at music are of no interest to me.”

“Ladylike pursuits?” he asked with interest. “Really?”

He rose and bowed to her, while she watched him with he
r
head to one side in confusion, wondering what she could have said to insult him now. But, she noted with relief, he wasn’t leaving, he only walked over to the pianoforte in the
corner
on the room. He seated himself at the bench and she smi
l
ed
,
anticipating some great f
u
n. For he seemed to be about to act out a charade of a demure young miss at the piano. In truth, before he began, she thought, he had already made his point, for he looked quite out of place seated at the delicat
e
inlaid instrument, with its gilt side panels illustrating nymphs and shepherds at play. He was too large for the picture he entered, his long masculine figure, his riding clothes and his high boots made a parody of his very pose.

BOOK: Red Jack's Daughter
8.5Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Crotch Rocket: A Bad Boy Motorcycle Club Romance by Natasha Tanner, Amelia Clarke
El viaje de Marcos by Oscar Hernández
The Mercenary by Dan Hampton
Diamonds in Cream by Elsa Silk
Quinn by Ryan, R.C.
Conjure by Lea Nolan
What I Loved by Siri Hustvedt
Not by Sight by Kathy Herman
Martyr's Fire by Sigmund Brouwer