“Who is he?”
“Lord Carily.He doesn’t like not to be the centre of attention, and I’m afraid that will be you as long as you are here.Are you staying?”
He didn’t answer, for they had returned to the chaperones’ table, where he bowed her into the vacant chair.As if by magic, a servant placed another for him beside her.It was only as her tea was poured that she realized he had never returned her daisy chain.Either it sat forlorn on the arbour seat, or it was in his pocket.
Chapter Nine
The daisy chain crownwas in his pocket, like a talisman.A silly thought, when it had been given to her by another man.A man he found himself rather liking—friendly, witty, carelessly at ease with all, unthreateningly flirtatious with the women but equally ready to join in intelligent conversation with them or anyone else.There was an appealing egalitarianism about him, and a recklessness that Jack secretly envied.Durward seemed to have laughed, danced, quarrelled, and duelled his way through life with equal fervour.
All Jack had ever done was bolt, run away from home like a foolish child.But he would waste no more of the life that had suddenly become as precious to him as it had always been to those who surrounded him.During tea, he watched and listened and strove to loosen his shy tongue just a little, carefully at first so that he didn’t say anything stupid and then, gradually, with more confidence.
The attitudes towards him were mixed.There was a lot of awe, as though he were some mythical being suddenly sprung to life.Marriageable girls and their mamas were jostling for his attention.Everyone was curious, a few, like Lord Carily, ready to scorn and ridicule because he was no sporting Corinthian, but only so far for his rank conferred considerable protection.Jack found that faintly despicable.And he definitely did not like the possessive way Carily leaned over Tabitha.
She had warned him against Carily.Was that because it was Carily he had to win her from?Or was it Durward?This society was alien to him.
But he found, as he made his way inside with everyone else, that despite the novel jealousy, he did not care that she had taken lovers, provided he could win her lovenowand she would be true to him.
It had seemed such a fine idea in London.Here, among the attractive and sophisticated gentlemen who made up her world, he could not help feeling daunted.
“Your grace,” murmured someone walking beside him, and he turned to see Lieutenant Meade.
“Someone else I need to apologize to,” Jack said ruefully.“I beg your pardon.”
“Oh, I can see the benefits of anomme de guerre.”
“Very good of you,” Jack said, offering his hand, which Meade shook as though surprised.
“What did you learn about Smith?”he asked.
“I’ll tell you in private.I seem to have been persuaded to join the party.”
***
WHEN HE JOINED THEgathering in the gallery before dinner, there was already a jest floating around the company that he would be accompanied by a food-taster and his very own manservant to wash the ducal hands and wipe the ducal mouth.He pretended not to hear and was, in any case, welcomed with loud joviality by his host, Sir Peter Hawthorn, who gave him a glass of excellent sherry.
“I’m afraid your grace is the object of curiosity that must seem quite vulgar,” Hawthorn confided with a hint of anxiety.“It’s the novelty, you know, but it will die down.”
