Authors: Elizabeth Mansfield
Regency Sting (29 page)
She stepped in and shut the door behind her. The sound made him wince. “Are you all right?” she asked in concern.
“I'm as far from âall right' as it is possible to be, ma'am,” he responded sourly. “My head seems to contain all manner of aches and pains, and any little noise makes things worse.”
“Yes, I know. Mr. Orkle explained to me that it is the result of over-indulgence in drink and will soon pass off.”
“Mr. Orkle talks a great deal too much, but he's quite right. In America, this affliction is called a âhangover.' But I will admit to you, ma'am, that as hangovers go, this one is a jim-dandy. However, let's not talk about it. Sit down, please. I sent for you because I believe we have some business to discuss which was left over from last night.”
She took the chair beside his bed. “I was not aware of any leftover business,” she said demurely.
âOh,
weren't
you now!” he said sarcastically. “Listen here, girl, I've
done
with humorin' you. I've followed all your rules. I've been so restrained and polite I've hardly recognized myself. And all I got for my pains was the sight of you creepin' off to wed that drearisome Claybridge fellow.”
“Arthur is
not
drearisome!” Anne said, outraged. “He's the finest, kindest, best-natured man in the world.”
“Oh, he is, is he? Then why didn't you run off with him after all?”
“Because ⦔ she confessed, lowering her eyes to her hands, “⦠he preferred to run off with Cherry instead.”
Jason cocked his good eye at her. “He
did
? Well, well!” His lips twitched in a very slight smile. “The fellow has more sense that I gave him credit for.”
Anne got to her feet haughtily. “If that's a slur at me, Jason Hughesâ!” she sputtered.
“Oh, sit down,” he commanded, “and don't raise your voice like that, girl.” He raised a shaky hand to his forehead. “Remember my head!”
She sat down again. “I'm
glad
your head aches,” she declared maliciously. “You
deserve
it. And I would be obliged, your lordship, if you'd get to the point. What is this business you wish to discuss with me?”
He gave her a one-sided grin. “I know how your mind works, you know. You think I called you here to apologize for my behavior last night.”
“I don't think anything of the kind! You are not enough of a gentleman for that.”
“For once you're right. I have no intention of apologizing.”
“An apology is not at all necessary, my lord,” Anne said with icy dignity. “I realize that you were not yourself.”
“Oh, no, girl, you're quite wrong there. That excuse won't wash. I was never
more
myself than I was last night, and you know it.”
“I don't know any such thing. You would
never
have behaved so ⦠so disreputably if you'd been sober.”
“Maybe not, but only because of cowardice. Drink made me brave,” he admitted.
“In England we call it âpot-valiant.' It is not a quality to give one pride.”
“I'm not
takin'
any pride in it. Only explaining to you that my behavior was simple honesty.
In vino veritas
.”
“What nonsense,” she insisted stubbornly. “I don't believe you even
remember
anything that passed between us last night!”
“Don't bet on it, girl. Would you like me to repeat our conversation to you
verbatim
? I can even do it with
gestures
!”
She colored to the roots of her hair. “That won't be necessary, thank you,” she said coldly, rising from her chair. “If you'll excuse me now, I think I've had enough of this conversation.”
“No,” he said, reaching out and grasping her wrist. “Please stay. We haven't yet discussed our business.”
“What is it you want to discuss?” she asked unyieldingly.
“Sit down, here on the bed where I can see you better.”
Reluctantly, her wrist still held in his iron grip, she sat down on the bed facing him. “Now, then, what is it?”
“I only want to know when you think you'll be ready to leave.”
“Leave? Leave for where?”
“For America, of course.”
“Jason, what sort of joke is this?”
“You know it's no joke. I imagine you'll want us to be married
here
, with the family and half of London present. I don't mind waiting for that. How much time do you think you'll need for all that before we set sail?”
Furiously, she tried to pry her wrist from his grasp. “
Will
you let me go?” she raged. “I can see now that you can be quite as obnoxious when you're sober as when you're drunk!”
He lifted his free hand to his forehead dramatically. “My head!” he moaned, leaning back against the pillows and closing his eyes. “You're frettin' my head.”
“And you're fretting
mine
! Let go!”
He opened his good eye. “Does this mean you
won't
marry me?” he asked innocently.
She stopped her struggle to free her wrist and stared. He was watching her from his one good eye with a rather boyish apprehension, as if his confidence had suddenly collapsed. His poor, bruised face looked so young and vulnerable that her anger disappeared. “Oh, Jason,
really
!” she said with a reluctant laugh. “Is
this
the way you propose marriage to a girl?”
His face immediately brightened. “I thought I'd proposed last night,” he said promptly.
“You were
drunk
last night!” she exclaimed in disgust.
He grinned. “Not so drunk as you think.” He lifted his hand and brushed her cheek with the back of it. “My lovely little fool! Don't you know that I've loved you from the first?”
“Oh,
Jason
!” she sighed tremulously and cast herself against his chest.
He enveloped her in his arms with a small sigh of contentment. “You haven't told me, my love,” he said against her hair, “that youâhow is it they phrase the question in your English novels?âthat you return my very flattering sentiments.”
Hiding her face in his chest, she said shyly, “I do very much return your very flattering sentiments.”
“Enough to come with me to America?” he persisted.
She looked up at him, her smile fading. “Must we go, Jason? Are you sure you cannot like it here?”
“I like it here very much. But I'm an American, my dear. Through and through. There's a war coming, I'm afraid, and my place is at home.”
She pulled herself away from him and sat up thoughtfully. “But ⦠what about Mama? And Peter?”
“They will be fine. Lady Harriet will be perfectly content to remain just as she is. And Peter will make a distinguished Viscount Mainwaring when he comes of age.”
“You seem to have thought of everything. Do you think I will make a distinguished Mrs. Hughes in aâwhat sort of abode shall we live in in America? The only habitation I've ever heard you mention is a blanket under the sky.”
“I think I may be able to find us a roof to settle under. And you shall make a very distinguished Mrs. Hughes. Believe it or not, before long you'll be more American than I.”
“Shall I, Jason? Are you sure I shall be suitable? Am I capable of adjusting to ⦠to â¦?”
“⦠to such uncivilized customs as we have in the wilderness?” he teased. “Don't worry your head on that score, love, for you'll have me at your side to protect you from the wild animals and savage men who come your way. Besides, I've always felt that you're a courageous little chit. Doesn't your spirited nature tell you that you'll enjoy the challenge?”
She smiled at him shyly. “Yes, it does. I think ⦠I shall enjoy it enormously ⦔
He seemed to catch his breath. “Are you
really
sayin' thatâ?”
“I'm saying that I shall be most happy to go to America with you.”
They smiled at each other for a long while. “Do you think,” he asked at last, “that to celebrate this occasion, love, you could bring yourself to lean over and kiss me?” His good eye twinkled mischievously. “Very gingerly, of course.
Very
gingerly. Remember my head.”
Lady Harriet emerged from her bedroom and searched through the house for her stepdaughter. She was consumed with curiosity about the activities of the night before and could wait no longer for the answers. But Anne was nowhere to be found. Coyne was sure that she had not gone out, but the girl was certainly not in her bedroom, the drawing room or anywhere else Harriet could think of. Finally, Mr. Orkle, being asked if he'd noticed her anywhere, remarked that she'd last been seen going in to visit with his lordship. Lady Harriet promptly made for Jason's room.
When her light tap on his door was not answered, she sensibly assumed that Jason was asleep and turned away. However, in motherly concern for the condition of his wound, she turned back to take a peep at him. She opened the door and looked in. The room was dimly lit, but there on the bed she could see quite plainly that her stepdaughter and her nephew were locked in a very close, not-at-all-gingerly embrace.
With great presence of mind, she stifled the glad cry which rose in her throat and backed hastily out of the room. She closed the door with silent care. “Oh, my!” she breathed delightedly. “Oh,
my
!” She had an overwhelming desire to do a jig, right there in the corridor. “I must remain câ” she began to say automatically, but then stopped herself. “
Bother
with staying calm!” she crowed in gleeful abandon. And in complete disregard of its deleterious effect on her breathing, she went skipping down the hall to break the news to Peter.
About the Author
Elizabeth Mansfield is a pseudonym of Paula Schwartz, which she used for more than two dozen Regency romances. Schwartz also wrote an American immigrant family saga,
A Morning Moon
, as Paula Reibel, and two American history romancesâ
To Spite the Devil
, as Paula Jonas, and
Rachel's Passage
, as Paula Reid.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1980 by Paula Schwartz
Cover design by Andy Ross
ISBN: 978-1-4976-9777-5
This edition published in 2015 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
345 Hudson Street
New York, NY 10014
EBOOKS BY ELIZABETH MANSFIELD
FROM OPEN ROAD MEDIA
