The Valentine Legacy (Legacy 3)
Page 10
Jessie froze in her boots. Oh God, she had to get out of there. They were coming nearer, coming down the steps that led from the balcony outside the French doors down into the garden. She fell to her hands and knees and began creeping through the low rosebushes that filed all the way to the garden gate, not more than thirty feet away. Just keep down and keep crawling. But she paused when she heard James say, “Does Glenda Warfield stare at your crotch, Giff?”
Giff laughed. “I’ve heard she stares at every man’s crotch. She began doing it about a year ago, Ursula told me. She practiced a goodly bit on me when we arrived from Boston the end of January. It was quite an experience. I understand she’s a bit more discreet now. That is, she doesn’t stare at every single man, just ones she thinks will marry her. Did you get that succulent look tonight?”
“Yes. It was disconcerting.”
Giff laughed. “Perhaps Jessie Warfield will learn it from her sister since she was sitting here watching through the window.”
“I think you’re mad, Giff. Look, here we are. This is the window, right? No Jessie.”
“She must have heard us talking and run off. Yes, she must have gone through the back garden gate. It gives onto Sharp Street. I’ll bet you anything she had a horse tied there.”
“Well, no proving it now. She’s gone. I do wonder why the brat was here, if she was here.”
Their voices faded, and Jessie started to breathe again. If James had gone through that back gate, he would have seen Benjie tethered to a scrub bush just beside the gate. She shuddered, only beginning to picture the humiliation had she been discovered. She couldn’t do this again.
She ran low to the gate and let herself through.
James stood beside the large French door that gave onto the balcony. “Good God,” he said to himself, as he lit a cheroot, “Giff was right. What was the brat doing here?” He wondered if she’d been invited. Surely yes. But he couldn’t begin to imagine her in anything but disreputable trousers and those large shirts and coats of hers. No, she would have turned down an invitation where being a female was a requirement. He ground out his cheroot, turned on his heel, and made for the stables.
“This road needs some work, don’t you agree, Jessie? Lilac here has stumbled nearly a good dozen times.”
She nearly fell off Benjie she was so startled. He must have been riding in the grass on the side of the road. “James! Oh dear, what do you want? What are you doing here?”
“I saw you and followed you. I hadn’t believed Giff when he said he saw your nose pressed against the window, watching all of us. Then I was on the balcony and I saw you slip out the back gate. Why were you there, Jessie?”
“I wasn’t.”
She didn’t say another word. She looked behind his left shoulder, her eyes widened, and her mouth gaped. When he whipped about in the saddle, she was off. But she was riding twelve-year-old Benjie, sweet tempered and slow, so Lilac was galloping next to her in just a few minutes. James leaned over and remarked, “Your hat is just about ready to blow off. Of course your hair is so tangled, it just might hold it on.”
She didn’t look at him, just clapped her palm down on top of her head.
“Actually it looks like one of Oslow’s old hats. Perhaps he gave it to you after it was so old and pitiful he didn’t want to wear it anymore?”
She looked over at him then and if her lips could have curled, they would have. She looked madder than James had the morning when Grand Master had bitten his shoulder rather than the mare he was going to mount. “Go to hell. I don’t have to talk to you, James. Go away.”
Benjie was slowing. Jessie let him. James knew she wouldn’t ride the poor old fellow into the road. Soon they were both at a walk, Benjie blowing just a bit. Lilac tossed her head and snorted.
“She sounds just like you,” Jessie said, staring straight between Benjie’s ears. “Obnoxious and impatient. Did you import her from England?”
“You don’t care for my English accent?” he asked, drawling each word into the most supercilious British English he could manage.
“You sound like a pederast.”
James’s hands jerked on Lilac’s reins and she sidestepped. “What did you say?”
“You heard what I said.”
“How the devil do you know that word? No lady would say that word, much less know of it.”
She turned slowly to look at him, the moon behind her, framing that old hat and the tangles of red hair that hung on either side of her face. “I’m not stupid. I read a lot.”
“The question is, what do you read?”
“Everything. In this case, I agree that pederast is very definitely a man’s word.”
James smote his forehead with his palm. “I don’t believe this. It’s close to midnight. It’s Baltimore and thus it will rain on us any minute and you know about pederasts. Worse, you called me one.”
“It’s how you sound when you speak with that ridiculous accent. You do it to make yourself sound important, to sound different from all of us Colonists. To make us all feel inferior to you just because your cousin’s a bloody English earl. You want everybody to forget you’re half a Colonist yourself. You’re a fraud, James.” She wanted to whip Benjie into a gallop, but she knew she couldn’t.