It was a tight wire, she reasoned, strung between sabotage and rescue. It was a thrilling challenge for even the most accomplished thespian.
And that must have been why she was enjoying it so much here tonight.
Yes, it must have been that, not the constipated look on Jasper’s face.
She pressed her lips together to prevent herself from laughing.
“You know,” said Mr. Rath, “I had expected an African woman to balk at the mixed nature of our family. Those on our shipping routes sometimes do.”
“Only because you stay to the south, I would wager,” Libba replied, silently thanking Hattie in her mind yet again for preparing her for this very question. “You will find the northern reaches of the continent are not half so homogenous. As you might guess from my own complexion, my parents differed fromone another in color and features. I imagine yours did too, Mr. Rath? Given your brother’s appearance.”
“Indeed so,” he said. “Our father is a bit of a tomcat himself. My mother is a Nigerian merchant who grew fond of his charm when he was in port. John’s is an English maid. We have a sister by a Burgher jeweler as well. Does that scandalize you?”
“Should it?” she asked, allowing him to pull out her chair and usher her into it. “Perhaps only that you are named for the wrong sin, hm?”
He paused, releasing a bark of startled laughter. “Touché, Princess! Your wit does not disappoint, nor does your lack of exception to our odd little family.”
Libba gave a little shrug and a shake of her head. “To be honest, I am never certain which things should evoke a gasp here in this strange, cold, little country.”
“We are, all of us, also feeling the cold,” Agatha Templeton-Rath said, taking the seat opposite Libba. “Only my daughter seems to enjoy it.”
“’Tis not the cold I enjoy,” Miss Templeton-Rath protested. “It is the air itself. I simply find it easier to breathe than I expected. I do not feel like I must paddle through the humid environs like a wading pool to cross the street. I do not wake with a red nose and a bevy of sneezes loaded up like cannon fire.”
“Pippa!” her cousin chastened, color brightening on her cheeks. “Do not talk of sneezes at the dinner table!”
Jasper cleared his throat, hesitating short of his chair, which was next to Libba’s, until she turned and beckoned him with her finger. “Come and sit, my hero,” she purred. “You are with me.”
His eyes narrowed at her, just a touch, but he obeyed.
She considered holding her breath but thought better of it. She was going to have to breathe eventually and perhaps extended exposure to the scent he was wearing would blunt itsedge. So, she resolved to breathe all the deeper to hasten the process.
“You aren’t imagining it,” he said, sliding stiffly into the seat and pointedly looking at Miss Templeton-Rath rather than the woman who had just proposed to him. “Many come here for the healing air, though I am a little surprised you find it preferable to warm skies and golden sands. I suppose I always thought one beach was just as tonic as the next.”
“Oh, but these beaches are an entirely different animal, Mr. Townsend,” Miss Templeton-Rath said, blinking at him. “It is not just the cosmetic difference of shingle versus sand. The very atmosphere, the scent of the sea, the color of the waves—all different!”
“Yes, very different,” Libba agreed, reaching lazily for her glass of wine as it was poured by a footman over her shoulder, her senses still reeling a little. She wondered if the wine might taste the way the cologne smelled, now that so much of it was in her veins. “You have not much left this place, Mr. Townsend?” she said, a petty revenge for putting her through this sensory assault. “I will remedy that.”
He frowned at her, but Libba noted that he watched her mouth as she tipped wine into it. She made a point of both filling her throat with wine and still laughing at him in the corners of her peach-painted lips.
“Yes, that is a question,” Miss Templeton-Rath said, giving her own little frown. “Do you wish to leave Brighton, Mr. Townsend, or are you much attached to your home?”
He winced, glancing down at his plate as the servants brought out the first course, a fragrant soup that smelled of coconut milk. “I wouldn’t mind a change of scenery at all,” he said. “Ceylon itself sounds wonderful, from what the sailors who have been have told me. Never having a winter again sounds worth the trade.”
“Only if you are prepared for the strength of a damnably wet eternal summer,” John Templeton-Rath said, winking at Jasper as he lifted his own wine to his lips. “And a full season of monsoons.”
“Even the ocean water is tepid rather than chilled and refreshing,” his wife put in. “Such a thing seems impossible, but it is true. There is no real reprieve from the heat except for the rains, and when it rains, all you want is the heat again.”
“And do not get us started on the insects and snakes and sharp toothed things,” Mr. Templeton-Rath added. “Go slow with the soup. It has hot peppers in it and might overwhelm at first.”
Libba was already dipping her spoon into the mixture, pulling out a delicate mélange of golden chicken and a slice of a vibrant-red vegetable as she brought it to her lips. “Delightful,” she decided, feeling the sting swell and then tingle pleasantly in her throat. The spices and coconuts were giving her a reprieve from Jasper’s scent and questioning its matching flavor. She took another indulgent bite and let her eyes flicker shut in enjoyment. “Ah. It tastes of home.”
Jasper, evidently interpreting this as the soup being safe for consumption, followed suit with a large bite and slow, reddening regret.
Libba leaned on her elbow to observe him with a languid smile of amusement. “Oh, my dear rescuer,” she cooed. “The bread will ease the sting, but also steal the flavor. A hard choice to make,n’est pas?”
Under the table, his heel landed on her toe and pressed down just hard enough to make her grin widen.
“You are a factor, I understand?” Mrs. Templeton-Rath asked, also looking quietly amused by his struggle with the soup. “An East India man? That is impressive. We overheard you say so to the harbormaster.”
