Poison or Protect
Page 41
The butler appeared with several glasses of sherry.
Gavin took one for himself and pressed another on the duke. “Drink that, Your Grace. Do you good.”
At this juncture, Preshea appeared. She had on a black velvet robe over her dressing gown. It had a scalloped hem and was collared in fur, making her entirely too regal for a lass who’d recently been writhing with pleasure atop him. Or perhaps that was the source of her regality.
She looked down her nose at everyone. Which she did very nicely, wearing her most Lady Villentia face. It was better than a dousing of cold water over the entire company.
“Must you create such a racket? Some of us are trying to sleep. What on earth is going on?” Of course, she knew exactly what was happening; she’d arranged everything. Gavin could see it now – the little hints she dropped in conversation, the way she influenced Jack. Her goal all along, to see his friend make a fool of himself. Not that Jack needed a great deal of help in that regard, but still…
Gavin stared at her in horror.
She caught his expression and her own stuttered. Then, if possible, she became even haughtier.
She turned away from him. “Everyone, do calm down. This is not a crisis. Mr Jackson has made a little mistake in his courtship technique. Perhaps, Lady Violet, this action has convinced you, one way or another?”
“It has certainly convinced me!” cried the Duke of Snodgrove.
Preshea hurried to him and said something in his ear in the guise of lifting a glass of sherry from the tray nearby. He snapped his mouth shut.
She moved to the distraught Lady Violet. The young lady managed to stop sobbing with the aid of the sherry. “Lady Violet?” Preshea pressed.
Gavin didn’t want to watch. Why was she bothering? Jack was ruined; she need not nail his coffin closed with her wiles.
“Yes, quite right.” Lady Violet hiccoughed.
Preshea chivvied her forward. Gavin wanted to cry at her cruelty. At Jack’s poor sad face.
Preshea patted the girl’s back gently. Lady Violet raised her head. “Mr Jackson, I’m sorry if anything I’ve said encouraged you into such rash action. Please understand that I could never marry you. You are too bold for someone as timid as I. This kind of behavior, it is too much!”
“But Lady Violet!” Jack cried, impassioned. He tried to step out of the dirigible and through the window. The aircraft bobbed and Jack went flying back into the gondola. The lobster, on the other hand, made it through the window perfectly well and, emboldened by liberty, scuttled under the bed.
Lady Flo, Miss Pagril, and the duchess all shrieked. The duchess jumped onto the bed, joining the younger girls.
Gavin sighed and instructed the footmen to go find a butterfly net, come back, and catch the darned thing.
Lady Violet sucked in a breath and walked to the oriel window. “There is no understanding between us, Mr Jackson. Please accept my decision gracefully.”
Jack’s head reappeared. He waved the piccolo in distress. “Lady Vi! I beg you.”
“No. You are not for me.”
“Please.”
“You are brash. And… you cannot waltz!”
“You cut me to the very quick!” Jack pressed the piccolo to his forehead.
Gavin winced in empathy and exasperation. Where did the lad come up with such sentimental blether? I must keep him from reading romantic novels.
“We do not suit. You have no genuine interest in botany!” Lady Violet practically yelled her final conclusion. This was the biggest sin of them all.
Jack hung his head. “That, I cannot deny. Very well, my dear Lady Vi. I shall never recover from this heartbreak, never, but I bow to your wishes.” Said bow brought Jack’s head into the bowels of the dirigible and out of view.
“Thank heavens. Now, can we all get some sleep?” Preshea would not allow Jack any further dramatic moments.
Of course, it took them considerable time to get the dirigible to float down. No one, not even Jack, could determine how he’d managed to safely fly the darned thing up there. Finally, the helmsman was roused, and through some precarious maneuvering, he attained the gondola and floated Jack to safety.
Everyone else dispersed (except the lobster, who refused to leave the safety of the bed, footmen with butterfly nets notwithstanding). Eventually, Lady Flo said, quite crossly, that so long as he didn’t snore, the crustacean might stay until morning. Poor creature, hadn’t he too suffered enough for one evening?
“It’s a good thing Jane was in your room, Lady Flo, or you should be ruined! A single man at your window like that.” Lady Blingchester’s tone said she rather hoped for ruination, if only for the delightful scandal.
“Yes, dear, why were you here?” the duchess responded.
Gavin was heading out to find his disgraced friend. He heard Preshea say, “Oh, didn’t I hear you talking at dinner, Lady Flo, about a headache? No doubt Miss Pagril was bringing you a restorative.”
Poor Preshea, she could not help but meddle.
* * *
Jack was eager to leave early the next morning. Without his friend, Gavin had no excuse for staying. The duke was in safe hands with Preshea, and he would report as much to Major Channing. He’d relay what he knew of the rifleman and find out why the werewolf had doubled down on protection. If, indeed, it was he.
Lady Villentia did not wake to see them off. Knowing her assignment was to protect the duke, he must assume her destruction of his friend’s prospective engagement was mere spite. He could not deny it hurt. Why bother with such an idiot as Jack? It wasted her talent to be so petty. He was disappointed. Although, sadly, not surprised.
Gavin took one for himself and pressed another on the duke. “Drink that, Your Grace. Do you good.”
At this juncture, Preshea appeared. She had on a black velvet robe over her dressing gown. It had a scalloped hem and was collared in fur, making her entirely too regal for a lass who’d recently been writhing with pleasure atop him. Or perhaps that was the source of her regality.
She looked down her nose at everyone. Which she did very nicely, wearing her most Lady Villentia face. It was better than a dousing of cold water over the entire company.
“Must you create such a racket? Some of us are trying to sleep. What on earth is going on?” Of course, she knew exactly what was happening; she’d arranged everything. Gavin could see it now – the little hints she dropped in conversation, the way she influenced Jack. Her goal all along, to see his friend make a fool of himself. Not that Jack needed a great deal of help in that regard, but still…
Gavin stared at her in horror.
She caught his expression and her own stuttered. Then, if possible, she became even haughtier.
She turned away from him. “Everyone, do calm down. This is not a crisis. Mr Jackson has made a little mistake in his courtship technique. Perhaps, Lady Violet, this action has convinced you, one way or another?”
“It has certainly convinced me!” cried the Duke of Snodgrove.
Preshea hurried to him and said something in his ear in the guise of lifting a glass of sherry from the tray nearby. He snapped his mouth shut.
She moved to the distraught Lady Violet. The young lady managed to stop sobbing with the aid of the sherry. “Lady Violet?” Preshea pressed.
Gavin didn’t want to watch. Why was she bothering? Jack was ruined; she need not nail his coffin closed with her wiles.
“Yes, quite right.” Lady Violet hiccoughed.
Preshea chivvied her forward. Gavin wanted to cry at her cruelty. At Jack’s poor sad face.
Preshea patted the girl’s back gently. Lady Violet raised her head. “Mr Jackson, I’m sorry if anything I’ve said encouraged you into such rash action. Please understand that I could never marry you. You are too bold for someone as timid as I. This kind of behavior, it is too much!”
“But Lady Violet!” Jack cried, impassioned. He tried to step out of the dirigible and through the window. The aircraft bobbed and Jack went flying back into the gondola. The lobster, on the other hand, made it through the window perfectly well and, emboldened by liberty, scuttled under the bed.
Lady Flo, Miss Pagril, and the duchess all shrieked. The duchess jumped onto the bed, joining the younger girls.
Gavin sighed and instructed the footmen to go find a butterfly net, come back, and catch the darned thing.
Lady Violet sucked in a breath and walked to the oriel window. “There is no understanding between us, Mr Jackson. Please accept my decision gracefully.”
Jack’s head reappeared. He waved the piccolo in distress. “Lady Vi! I beg you.”
“No. You are not for me.”
“Please.”
“You are brash. And… you cannot waltz!”
“You cut me to the very quick!” Jack pressed the piccolo to his forehead.
Gavin winced in empathy and exasperation. Where did the lad come up with such sentimental blether? I must keep him from reading romantic novels.
“We do not suit. You have no genuine interest in botany!” Lady Violet practically yelled her final conclusion. This was the biggest sin of them all.
Jack hung his head. “That, I cannot deny. Very well, my dear Lady Vi. I shall never recover from this heartbreak, never, but I bow to your wishes.” Said bow brought Jack’s head into the bowels of the dirigible and out of view.
“Thank heavens. Now, can we all get some sleep?” Preshea would not allow Jack any further dramatic moments.
Of course, it took them considerable time to get the dirigible to float down. No one, not even Jack, could determine how he’d managed to safely fly the darned thing up there. Finally, the helmsman was roused, and through some precarious maneuvering, he attained the gondola and floated Jack to safety.
Everyone else dispersed (except the lobster, who refused to leave the safety of the bed, footmen with butterfly nets notwithstanding). Eventually, Lady Flo said, quite crossly, that so long as he didn’t snore, the crustacean might stay until morning. Poor creature, hadn’t he too suffered enough for one evening?
“It’s a good thing Jane was in your room, Lady Flo, or you should be ruined! A single man at your window like that.” Lady Blingchester’s tone said she rather hoped for ruination, if only for the delightful scandal.
“Yes, dear, why were you here?” the duchess responded.
Gavin was heading out to find his disgraced friend. He heard Preshea say, “Oh, didn’t I hear you talking at dinner, Lady Flo, about a headache? No doubt Miss Pagril was bringing you a restorative.”
Poor Preshea, she could not help but meddle.
* * *
Jack was eager to leave early the next morning. Without his friend, Gavin had no excuse for staying. The duke was in safe hands with Preshea, and he would report as much to Major Channing. He’d relay what he knew of the rifleman and find out why the werewolf had doubled down on protection. If, indeed, it was he.
Lady Villentia did not wake to see them off. Knowing her assignment was to protect the duke, he must assume her destruction of his friend’s prospective engagement was mere spite. He could not deny it hurt. Why bother with such an idiot as Jack? It wasted her talent to be so petty. He was disappointed. Although, sadly, not surprised.
