The Battling Bluestocking (3 page)

Jessica expelled a little sigh of satisfaction. The house was exactly as she had hoped it would be, a jewel set off by the flower-filled park surrounding it. As they drew nearer, the carriage wheels crunched on gravel, and she could see a well-tended drive circling a smoothly scythed lawn, in the center of which was a white marble unicorn, rampant, hooves raised in what appeared to be an enthusiastic welcome to approaching guests. A moment later they drew to a halt before sweeping steps that led to the portico, and glancing back at the unicorn, Jessica observed that his left eye was closed in an unmistakable wink. That little bit of whimsy made her more curious than ever to meet the owner of Shaldon Park.

“Y
OU LADIES WILL REMAIN
in the carriage whilst I attend to this matter,” Lord Gordon stated firmly as a gray-livery-clad flunky ran down the broad granite steps to open the door of the coach.

Ignoring him, Jessica accepted the aid of the flunky and descended to the gravel drive. A statuesque young woman, she was broad of shoulder and hip and narrow of waist, and nearly as tall as the lad who assisted her. Twitching her gray wool skirt into place, she straightened her hat, settled her muff on her left arm, ignored her brother-in-law’s indignant muttering, and turned to see where the highwayman had gone.

He had managed to dismount unassisted and was presently looping his reins through a ring at the top of a white post set into the ground near the bottom left of the steps. He glanced up as she watched him, but he was not looking at her. Instead, he seemed to be watching the flunky, who was now assisting Lady Gordon from the coach. Lord Gordon followed a moment later, and the youth turned his attention to the highwayman. Jessica saw the lad’s eyes widen, but he looked quickly away again, almost, she thought, as if he had received some sort of signal. She looked again at the highwayman, but he returned her look blandly with nothing more than a slight twinkle in his eyes.

“Shall we go in?” he asked, gesturing to the others to lead the way.

“Seems to me you’re in a dashed almighty hurry,” Lord Gordon told him suspiciously.

“Only to have the matter over and done,” was the response.

“You’ll be hanging from a gallows once this is over and done, my lad,” his lordship informed him roundly. “I shouldn’t think you’d be in such a headlong rush to reach that end.”

“Oh, I’ll wager it won’t come to that, my lord,” the highwayman returned with an ironic little chuckle.

He seemed momentarily more sure of himself, Jessica thought, her curiosity by now thoroughly aroused. There was a hint of cockiness now, too, and the attitude was no longer appealing. Indeed, what had appeared to be boyish impudence before now seemed little more than insolence, and it was beginning to irritate Miss Sutton-Drew.

They moved up the steps toward the tall, highly polished double doors that marked the entrance to the house. There was no need to knock, of course, for their arrival had been noted by those within, and the doors swung wide as they drew near. A stately butler admitted them, informing Lord Gordon that Sir Brian was in his bookroom and would receive them at once. Jessica noticed that the highwayman slouched a little and kept his head turned away from the butler. However, if that worthy thought it odd that he was admitting a masked man with a bloodstained jacket to his master’s house, he gave no sign of it, merely requesting that they take seats in the drawing room, off the hall to the right, while he went to inform his master of their arrival.

The drawing room, like the entry hall, was elegantly appointed. Jessica mused that despite Lord Gordon’s condemnation of his mode of dress, Sir Brian’s house showed no sign of not being well-tended. Blue velvet curtains hung at tall diamond-paned windows on two sides of the room. The front windows overlooked the drive and the lawn with the winking unicorn, and those at the side overlooked ornamental shrubbery and neatly tended formal flowerbeds. The furnishings appeared to be mostly Sheraton, from the striped blue-and-silver-silk-covered mahogany settee facing the fireplace to the slim-legged side chairs near the wall. Several tables, including a splendid satin wood sideboard banded with rosewood inlays, also stood near the walls, which were papered in a subie pattern of blue pinstripes set wide apart on a cream background. A series of blue-gray-and-pink Aubusson carpets covered the highly polished wood floor, while silver accessories and bowls of brilliantly colored flowers completed the decor.

The room appeared to be lived in and homey, despite the formality of most of the furniture.

Adding to the casual air was a leather-bound book that had been left open on the settee. Jessica picked it up and shut it as she took her seat. If the person reading it lost his place, so much the better, she thought. Maybe next time he would mark his place properly instead of taking the risk of damaging the book. It was a good one, though, one of her favorites,
Marmion
by Walter Scott. She preferred the Gothic romances that her father and many others so heartily disapproved of, but she loved good poetry, too. She wondered if Sir Brian had been reading the book.

“You might as well take off that mask now,” Lord Gordon said testily, glaring at the highwayman, who had been watching Jessica.

The masked man hesitated indecisively for a moment, but then with a darting glance at Lady Gordon, he shook his head. “Not yet, I think,” he said, adding, “By Jove, though, with your leave, I will take a seat. I seem to have gone a trifle weak at the knees.”

He looked dangerously pale, Jessica thought, and the light of amusement had vanished completely from his eyes. As he sank with obvious gratitude onto one of the side chairs, he watched the door leading into the hall, and it seemed to Jessica that the apprehension she had noted earlier had manifestly increased.

Lady Gordon sat down upon the settee beside Jessica, and his lordship moved toward one of the tall front windows. He peered outside for a brief moment before turning back and addressing the room at large.

“I say, where is Gregory? His man said he would be with us immediately. I cannot like attending to this sort of business with ladies present. I don’t know what I can have been thinking of to allow the two of you to accompany me.”

The highwayman regarded him over his mask, a glint of amusement returning to his eyes for the moment. “Can’t say I noticed that you were given a deal of choice in the matter, my lord.”

“That’s enough of your impudence, my lad. You’ll be singing a different tune once Sir Brian has you in charge, I daresay.”

The highwayman fell silent, clearly giving consideration to his lordship’s words. Then he said in a more subdued tone, “I wager you’re in the right of it, my lord. Moreover, something tells me I shall do better without the mask, as you suggested earlier.” So saying, with his right hand he first pulled off the disreputable slouch hat, dropping it onto the floor beside him and attempting to smooth his tousled hair. Then, with the same hand, he reached back and, not without some difficulty, loosened the knot holding the mask in place, letting it fall forward, then pulling It from his shirt collar and dropping it on the hat. Lady Gordon gasped at the sight of the handsome young face thus revealed, and the highwayman smiled ruefully at her. “I was afraid you might recognize me, ma’am. We met some months ago, did we not?”

Jessica stared at her sister in amazement, but before Lady Gordon could speak, the door opened from the hall and the butler announced Sir Brian Gregory.

As she turned to take her first look at the owner of Shaldon Park, Jessica noted that the highwayman’s rueful smile had lingered, but this time it seemed to be directed at the man just entering the room. A look passed between the two, and Sir Brian’s dark eyes narrowed slightly, but otherwise he seemed only mildly surprised as he looked over the persons waiting to speak to him.

Her brother-in-law’s strictures notwithstanding, Jessica liked the look of her host very much. He was certainly no dandy, and she doubted very much if even the Corinthian set would claim him to its membership, unless of course he was indeed the very apt sportsman that Lord Gordon seemed to think he was.

He appeared to be some five or six years older than she was herself, and he was a good deal taller, too, well over six feet, with broad, muscular shoulders and slim hips. His dark brown riding coat had clearly been cut for comfort rather than style, and though his shirt was white and clean, the breeches he wore above polished top boots were scarcely what her mother would have decreed as proper attire to greet ladies in his drawing room. He wore no jewelry except for a carved emerald signet ring upon his right hand. Nonetheless, she agreed with her sister that the man had the sort of looks that she liked best. His dark blond hair looked thick and windswept without appearing to have been coaxed and bullied into the style, and his face, framed by smooth side whiskers, was deeply tanned, with strong, firmly etched features. The nose was straight and well-shaped, the chin square with an almost stubborn look to it, and the lips twitching now with a touch of humor that also lit his deep brown eyes. The man seemed to radiate an arrogant vitality that appealed to Miss Sutton-Drew deeply.

He glanced around at the group, then spoke over his shoulder to the hovering butler. “That will be all, Fairby.” The voice was low-pitched with a nearly regal tone to it that reflected the arrogance Jessica had seen in the way he carried himself. Clearly, she thought, he had rapidly determined by Lord Gordon’s purposeful expression that his visitors were in no expectation of being served any refreshment. As the butler shut the door, Sir Brian flicked another, oddly penetrating glance around the room. This time it paused as he acknowledged Lord and Lady Gordon with a brief word and a nod, passed over Jessica, and came to rest upon the young man in the side chair.

“Well, Andrew, Fairby neglected to inform me that you were part of the group awaiting me.”

“I don’t think he saw me,” the young man replied carefully.

“Dear me, he must be getting older than I’d suspected,” Sir Brian said. “I should think that the fact that your shoulder appears to be dripping blood all over my house ought to have impressed itself upon him.”

“A slight exaggeration, sir. I’ve got blood on my coat, that’s all. A mere flesh wound, I assure you. It scarcely troubles me at the moment.”

“Well, it troubles me, young man. How came you by it?”

The others had been staring in astonishment at the two men during this interchange, but Lord Gordon found his voice at last. “What’s this?” he demanded. “Do you know this young ruffian, Sir Brian?”

“I know this young gentleman,” Sir Brian corrected gently, without taking his eyes from the would-be highwayman. “He is my nephew, Andrew Liskeard. My elder sister’s child,” he added, “though he was bereft of both parents some years ago.” His jaw tightened slightly.

“What!” Lord Gordon looked disbelievingly from one to the other. “But he held us up on the St. Ives cliff road. He’s no more than a common highwayman, sir.”

Though Sir Brian did turn politely when his lordship spoke, his expression was bland, and he took the news without so much as a blink. But when he turned back to his nephew, Jessica noted an ominous glitter in his eyes that made her glad he was not looking at her.

“Is that true?” he asked the young man quietly.

Andrew shifted slightly in his chair as though he would get to his feet, but looking at his uncle, he changed his mind, merely straightening self-consciously where he sat. He swallowed and ran a nervous tongue over his lower lip before replying, “It’s true enough. But I took care that no one recognized me, though Dolby at the lodge knew Sailor, I think, and young Michael recognized us both out front. They won’t split though, and it was merely for a wager, Uncle Brian. I scarcely need to tell you there was no harm intended.”

“A wager?” Again the words were spoken quietly. Sir Brian had not moved any nearer, nor had his position changed. He still stood just a few feet from the hall door, and he appeared to be relaxed enough to stand where he was all day if necessary. Indeed, there was nothing specific about his appearance to indicate that he was hearing anything beyond the ordinary. Yet there was something in the air, some aura emanating from the tall, broad-shouldered gentleman that once again made Jessica glad that she was not the one required to answer his questions.

Andrew’s attention was focused solely upon his uncle now, and Jessica was a little surprised to note that his tone became more confident as he explained the wager. “It was Barney Howard, sir. You know…old Northumberland’s nephew.” Sir Brian nodded. “Well, we have both been invited to join the same club at school, the Scalawags. You belonged when you were up, did you not?” Again Sir Brian nodded, and Andrew’s confidence visibly gained strength. “I thought so. Well, the thing of it was that we each had to accomplish three unusual feats, the sort of nonsensical stunts we, none of us, would have thought of doing otherwise. Nothing but the merest bobbery, I assure you, but the things we had to do were written down on white cards by the old boys, and we each chose three cards. The wager was extra, that I would accomplish my three before Barney accomplishes his. Stopping a coach on the king’s road was my third,” he added, unable to avoid a touch of pride in his voice, though his expression remained wary.

“Well, upon my word,” said Lord Gordon, staring.

“You may well say so, my lord,” agreed Sir Brian without taking his stern gaze from his nephew.

“This certainly puts a different light on the matter,” Lord Gordon said with a sapient air. “Of course, the moment I realized he was related to you, sir, I knew there must be some logical explanation.”

“Did you indeed, my lord?” This time Sir Brian did glance at his lordship, but his look was an enigmatic one, and Lord Gordon clearly chose to assume that they were in complete agreement.

He chuckled ponderously. “Certainly. Quite a prank, I must say. Imagine the daring of it all. The danger. Why, it takes a real man to pull off such a feat. A bit foolish, perhaps, but then, we were all young and foolish at one time, were we not, Sir Brian?”