Netherby Halls

“Don’t misread me, Justin, grateful to you—was a splendid notion you had of getting up a party to go to the theater. But I know you, and I have this gut feeling that something was behind it, just like I know you didn’t bring me to Bristol just because you wanted to help me with Sophy. There is another reason.”

“Hang it all, man. That is very bad of you, I must say. I have been subjected to Petruchio convincing Kate that the moon is the sun and the sun the moon more times than I can count. So the evening offered me little more entertainment than watching you further yourself in Sophy’s eyes.”

“Gammon!” Percy replied, unashamed. “Wait a minute—by Jove and damn, why didn’t I see it sooner?” He slapped his knee jovially. “’Tis the Winthrop chit, isn’t it? You have made a push to have her, and she won’t have you. Well, that stands to reason. You can’t offer a vicar’s daughter a carte blanche and think she will jump at the chance, now can you?”

“Go to the devil,” the marquis said amiably.

“Hold a minute. Did you ask her to join us this evening? You did—you did, and she refused, went with the local doctor instead—that fellow Bankes, who by the way I found too … I am not sure what the word is, but don’t like him.”

“She had already been asked by Bankes, who had the forethought to invite her entire class. He was quite above board in his attentions.”

“Jealous! That is what it is. You are jealous. Damn if it isn’t written all over your face.”

“It pains me to say this to you again, but you leave me no choice. Go. To. The. Devil.”

“Well, look at that, the libertine Marquis of Dartmour, struck down by a sweet lovely. But, Justin, you cannot expect constancy from a chit you don’t even really know?”

“Constancy? What is that, and what man past his eighteenth year expects it?” The marquis scoffed.

“You did as I recall.”

“Yes, I did—did being the word. At eighteen, I did expect it—at nineteen I knew better. Much better.” The marquis folded his arms across his chest and put on an expression of boredom.

“Yes, but—”

The marquis cut him off. “Females are wretched creatures with foibles enough to shatter a man’s soul and scatter it to the winds without so much as an afterthought.”

“And yet, old friend, you have a knack of collecting them—females,” Percy said dryly.

“Not for long, Percy. I have learned to set them free soon after they cease to be new.”

“Cynical, but Miss Winthrop, I do think, is an innocent. It is not like you to seduce an innocent.”

“No? Is it not?” the marquis said, frowning over the problem.

“Your heart is in this, isn’t it?” Percy asked, watching him closely.

“Leave it be, Percy. Be a good friend and leave it be.”

* * *

Alone and propped up against her pillow with the dim light of her candle beside her bed, Sassy hugged the quilt to her chin and contemplated the evening.

It had been a very full night, but—and there was the crux of it, the but, because she could see that the marquis meant to seduce her. She might not be experienced, but she was not stupid. She knew her position in life would make it difficult to find love and marriage as a unit.

And then there was James Bankes. The doctor had been strangely quiet on their ride back to school. She had asked him as gently as she could if anything was the matter, and he had shaken his head, saying only that people like Miss Delleson and her sort always made him introspective. She had not probed for more. It had been obvious to her that Sophy had dismissed him negligently after their introduction, and she sighed for it, as she had thought it rude.

The Netherby drive had been just ahead when he turned to her, and she had a fearful moment when she thought he was going to kiss her. Instead, he took her hand and squeezed it as he said, “Don’t enjoy yourself too much tomorrow night, Sassy. I fear, Miss Delleson … well, she is I think self-centered and just the sort to play on your kind nature.”

“Oh—then you heard Sophy’s remarkable invitation?” Sassy tried to make light of it.

“Yes, yes, I did. I—I must say, I don’t like the marquis or the way he looks at you …” His voice trailed off.

“The way he looks at me? Why, James, he scarcely looked at me all evening. His eyes were on ladies far more in his class and to his taste.”

“You are, of course, an innocent. Just be careful among the beau monde of Bristol. They could tear a child like you to shreds,?

? James said bitterly.