Her Rebel Lord. Georgina Devon
be done, you refuse.’
Jenna lifted her chin. ‘I can and will do exactly as I please, thank you.’
Lizzie met Jenna’s eyes in the mirror. ‘You always were stubborn when you set your mind to something.’
Jenna forced a tight smile. ‘Yes. And I intend to do as I please, not as fashion dictates.’
With a sigh of resignation, Lizzie fetched the flour and the cape to put around Jenna’s shoulders to protect her clothing. Several breath-holding, eyes-squeezed-shut minutes later, it was done. Lizzie pinned the muslin cap with teal ribbons on Jenna’s now-white hair. Her toilette was finished, except for teal stockings and plain black leather shoes that were both comfortable and practical.
‘You’ll do,’ Lizzie said proudly. ‘In spite of the hair,’ she added in an affronted undertone.
Jenna ignored the last comment. A glance in the mirror told her she looked as well as could be expected, even if she was slightly outrageous with the powdered hair. She would never be a beauty, but she was clean and well groomed in a casual way that suited her. And the powdered hair suited her complexion.
More importantly, she did not look like the drenched rat from the Whore’s Eye last night.
She stood and smoothed down her skirt. ‘Then I will be on my way.’
Unwilling to let her charge go without gilding, Lizzie stopped her. ‘You should wear that strand of pearls your mama left you.’ She gave her a sly look. ‘They would go very nicely with the hair.’
Jenna froze. She dared not let Lizzie—or anyone—see that her jewellery was missing. The pieces should be with Gavin’s horse, which was with The Ferguson. What a tangle the disguise of the hair had created.
She waved her hand in a dismissive way. ‘Oh, that would be too much. I am not dressing for Papa’s guest.’
Lizzie arched one greying eyebrow. ‘What if he’s an eligible bachelor?’
‘I am not looking for a marriage partner, Lizzie, and you know that. Papa needs me.’
Lizzie sniffed. ‘Iff’n you ask me,’ twould be the best thing for both of you.’
‘Well, I am not asking you.’
Until meeting The Ferguson, Jenna had never been interested in men except as patients and friends. And after last night, the last man she would find intriguing was an English soldier. While she had never considered herself a Jacobite, in spite of knowing her cousin was one, seeing how the English tracked down men like Gavin, she began to have more sympathy for the hunted fugitives and less for the English.
This was still uppermost in her mind when Jenna paused at the heavy oak door to the parlour. Surely the English officer from last night was not here, and she had sat through the torture of powdering her hair for naught. Her luck could not be that horrible for he would recognise her even with her hair powdered. Surely.
Burke, the butler, had followed her once she entered the foyer. He bowed his wig-covered head, the wrinkles at his eyes and mouth pronounced, and opened the door. ‘Miss de Warre.’
Jenna gave him a small smile as she swept into the room, her voluminous skirt swishing before her and falling behind her like a wave of cream. From the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of crimson. Tension engulfed her. She kept her gaze on her parent and her chin up.
‘Papa, I hope I have not kept you waiting.’
Viscount Ayre stood. He was a tall man, slim and straight with just a hint of a stomach. His eyes were a deep, kindly brown. His skin was swarthy and his hair dark. She had inherited her colouring from her mother.
Papa held out both hands. She put her fingers in her father’s warm palms, barely managing not to grasp at the security he always made her feel.
She sensed the other man rise, and only then did she turn to face him. Seller. Her smile felt frozen on her face, and she would swear the blood drained from her cheeks. Somewhere she found the strength to pull her fingers from Papa’s safe clasp.
‘Jenna,’ Papa said, ‘I would like to present Captain Lord Seller. He is here in command of a garrison.’
She made the other man a shallow curtsy. ‘My lord.’
He bowed to her, his fashionable bag wig, so popular with military men, and well-fitted red uniform lending him an air of distinction. ‘Miss de Warre, my pleasure to finally meet you in person.’
She kept the smile on her face, wondering when he would denounce her and demand to know what she had been doing at the Whore’s Eye last night. When he continued to gaze at her, one dark brow raised as though he wondered at her perusal, she turned away and sank into a chair that was thankfully close enough so she did not have to move. Her legs would not hold her long enough to go elsewhere.
‘How delightful to have the English army here, Captain Lord Seller.’ She finally managed the words, glad she had not had her stays laced tightly. The room seemed closed and tight enough without having the added difficulty of breathing.
It was all she could do to keep her fingers from shaking. If he suspected her of anything, he would demand to search the house. She was not sure the priest hole would go undetected. Nor did she want Papa implicated in the treason she perpetrated with Gavin.
Seller waited until Papa sat back down before sitting himself. His manners were impeccable.’ Twas too bad he was the enemy.
His bearing was much like Papa’s, which was to be expected, both having a career in the military. From there they diverged. Seller was shorter and slighter, yet with an air of wiry strength that she felt sure stood him in good stead when using a sword. His eyes were a piercing blue and his brows black as night. His mouth was thin and his jaw straight. He was the epitome of an English soldier.
‘No one can be more delighted than I am, Miss de Warre, now that I see what the country has to offer,’ he murmured, his tenor voice smooth and pleasant.
And still he did not denounce her. Perhaps he had not seen her clearly last night. Perhaps she was safe.
Jenna narrowed her eyes at his comment, which could be taken many ways. She chose to take it literally.’ Twas easier. ‘Ah, then you must have been here for some time and had the opportunity to see how beautiful Cumbria can be even as winter closes in on us.’
‘Unfortunately, no. I only returned yesterday.’ A sly smile tugged at his well-shaped lips.
She tensed, but when he said nothing more she focused on his lips, which she thought too thin. Not like The Ferguson’s sensual mouth. She blinked at her erratic thought. Never in her life had she thought of a man’s lips before. What was happening to her?
Papa drew her attention back to the moment. ‘Captain Lord Seller is here because rumours have reached London that Jacobites are fleeing here before seeking transport to France. He is not here for pleasure, Jenna.’
She concentrated on keeping her hands relaxed in her lap even though her tendency was to twist the fringe of the shawl around her shoulders. Did Seller know about Gavin? Was that why he was visiting them? Surely not, or he would not be here on what appeared to be a social visit, but would be scouring the countryside or turning their home inside out.
It was an effort to act as though she cared nothing about the man’s mission. A woman of her position would only be concerned if she felt threatened, and there was no reason for her to feel that.
So she played the social role. ‘That is too bad, my lord. You will be too busy to participate in the round of festivities the winter season brings. With Christmas just past, we must find other divertissements.’
Seller looked at her papa before returning his attention to her. ‘I will be occupied, but not to the point that I won’t be able to accept invitations. Just not as many as I might like.’
Burke entered with a silver platter that held a cream-coloured card.