Maggie MacKeever (6 page)

“Dammit, I
don’t
please!” Innis had recourse to the brandy decanter. “It seems to me, Miss Lennox, that you have a damned poor notion of my character.”

“Should I not?” inquired Jynx, with increasing ennui. “You are the companion of gamblers and demireps, sir, the leader of a set of
roués
who seem to glory in excess. You are said to entertain depraved cronies at parties too lascivious to describe; you number among your escapades an attempt to abduct an actress, whom you later treated savagely. In so doing, you have forfeited all title to anyone’s esteem.”

Innis looked rather as if a piece of furniture had suddenly come to life and bit him. “Who the
devil,”
he inquired, in strangled tones, “told you all this?”

“My father,” replied Miss Lennox, who was secretly enjoying herself. “Sir Malcolm also said that you are an arrant fortune hunter who has been dangling after a rich heiress for years, and that with the least encouragement you will take all sorts of encroaching fancies.” Her gaze was bland. “I shouldn’t like that at all, you see, so I thought it would save us both a great deal of bother if I warned you
not
to make a dead-set at me.”

Innis was prey to a number of conflicting emotions: anger, resentment, and a queer mirth. He stared at his intended prey, who returned the look in her usual composed manner, and glee won out. Miss Lennox was treated to the sight of the reprobate Innis Ashley grasping his sides and howling with merriment like any scrubby schoolboy. “My darling girl!” he gasped, at length. “I quite see that I have underestimated you.”

“You have,” agreed Jynx calmly. “Much as I dislike nitpicking, I feel I must also point out that I’m not your darling anything. Now that we’ve settled this little matter, do you think I might be allowed to see Cristin?”

“No,” retorted Innis, and seated himself on the settee. “Why in God’s name did a delightful and desirable young woman like yourself enter into a betrothal with such a curst cold fish as Roxbury?”

“Nor need you,” sighed Jynx, “throw the hatchet at me! I am totally immune to flattery. As for Viscount Roxbury, we shall not discuss him, sir.”

“Very well.” Innis regarded her in a fascinated manner. “But you must call me by my name, instead of that damnably proper ‘sir’.”

“I don’t see,” complained Miss Lennox, “why I must call you anything. I’ve told you that you’ll gain nothing by laying siege. You would be much wiser to while away your leisure hours with something or someone more interesting to you.”

“But I cannot,” protested Innis, with warmth and a degree of sincerity. “Any other woman would in comparison seem a cold collation as opposed to a hot meal.”

“More flummery.” Totally unmoved by hearing herself referred to in so unique a manner, Miss Lennox reflected that her Aunt Eulalia, in those countless discourses on the evils of fortune hunters, had failed to mention the fact that to be pursued by such could be extremely diverting. “It will not serve. Try as you may, you will not, as I have already told you several times, induce me to act indiscreetly.”

“I hesitate to point this out,” countered Innis, without the least hesitation at all, “but you have already done so in coming here. What would Viscount Roxbury say, I wonder, if he knew the character of his intended was so very
loose?”

“Viscount Roxbury,” retorted Jynx, though with her dimpled grin, “is already familiar with all the facets of my character. And my indiscretion, as you call it, was prompted by the most worthy of sentiments—which you must admit would hardly be the case had it been inspired by yourself.”

“Viscount Roxbury is a lucky man,” Innis interrupted. He spoke, which was unusual for him, the simple truth. “Would that I could be! I realize I’ve made a botch of it already, Miss Lennox, and have insulted you greatly, as well as having given you a most unfavorable opinion of myself. Won’t you forgive me all that, and allow me to begin over again?”

Miss Lennox contemplated her newest admirer, whose candid countenance was completely free of guile. “Generously said,” she approved, “and the answer is no. We’ve kept poor Percy’s horses standing entirely too long, and I’ve grown most anxious to see Cristin. Therefore, if you please?”

Innis did not please; Innis was discovering that his quarry’s disfavor added a certain zest to the pursuit; but just then Cristin herself burst into the room. “Oh, Jynx!” she wailed, and flung herself upon Miss Lennox’s breast, and dissolved promptly into tears. No more than Innis did Miss Lennox appear to appreciate the tendency of the female Ashleys toward excessive sentimentality. She winced as Cristin gripped her even more firmly, and dislodged her hat, and wept all over her muslin gown.

Innis made no effort to aid Miss Lennox in her predicament, but met her speaking glance with a wicked grin. Gaining access to the Lennox fortune, he mused, was going to be a most pleasurable pastime. “Say that you forgive me,” he offered, “and I will leap to your assistance, Miss Lennox!”

“Oh, very well!” agreed Jynx, who was half-smothered by her little friend’s exuberance. “I forgive you.”

In this case, at least, Innis proved as good as his word. Cristin’s deathlock grip was broken, and she was gently reprimanded for her behavior, and at that point, as Cristin was proffering abject apologies of her own, Lord Peverell entered the drawing room.

“Jynx!” Percy was obviously in a state of great perspiration. “My horses!” And then his gaze fell upon Cristin, and his mouth dropped open, and he stared thunderstruck.

“Now I suppose I must thank you for
this
development,” Jynx remarked to her savior, as she straightened her abused hat. “If I did not see that it must be impossible, I would swear you contrived the whole thing.”

“I might have, had I thought of it.” Innis contemplated the doting fashion in which his niece was being regarded by the gullible Lord Peverell. It was a sentiment, judging from Cristin’s equally besotted expression, that his niece appeared to share. Then his gaze moved to Miss Lennox, whose piquant features were, alas, totally devoid of any similar emotion. “I might be of even greater benefit to you, if only you would allow me to be.”

Even a lady so unappreciative of ardor as Jynx could hardly fail to understand the veiled meaning in those words. “I do wish you’d stop carping on that subject!” she complained, and rose. “How many times must I tell you, Mr. Ashley, that you will not lead me into an affair of gallantry?”

“You may tell me as many times as you wish, and I shall listen to you with pleasure, and I will remain unconvinced.” Innis took her hand once more. Jynx watched with a certain degree of bemusement as he bent his dark head and pressed his lips to the inside of her wrist. Innis raised his head, and noted her startled expression, and smiled. “Are you a coward, my darling?” he asked, so softly that had the others been listening, which they most definitely were not, they still could not have heard. “Give me only half a chance, and I will overcome your indifference.”

The man was persistence itself! “And beguile me into tossing my bonnet over the windmill?” Jynx raised her lazy eyes to his reckless face.

“But you wish to speak to my niece.” Innis released her, just as she parted her lips to deliver him another stinging rebuff. “I will leave you to it.”

Without another word, he departed. Miss Lennox’s gaze followed him, thoughtfully.

Chapter Five

Mr. Ashley then returned to the smaller of the two saloons which had been fitted up for gaming, where his sister was engaged in a desultory round of solitaire; and informed her that his quarry had risen, nibbled and swallowed the bait. In no time at all, averred Innis, Miss Lennox would be doing all manner of imprudent things to him and with him, and most happily. He additionally professed himself most delighted by the prospect, which he wagered would be more stimulating even than his recent stay with a certain crony, the object of which had been a delirium of sensuality, and the achievement of which had involved the participation of several maidservants. And he regretted that he had not made the acquaintance of Miss Lennox sooner, for she might have attended with him the Opera Masquerade, and have supped with him behind the scenes, in company with the ballet master, several harlots, and a bawd. Lady Bliss listened to these disclosures, and pondered the sorrow that would inevitably be Sir Malcolm’s upon his daughter’s disgrace, and sniffled dolefully.

But Lady Bliss lamented Miss Lennox’s downfall a great deal too soon, and Mr. Ashley had counted his chickens before the eggs were even laid. So far was Miss Lennox from succumbing to Innis’s rakish charm that, with his departure, all thought of him had left her mind. She regarded her two companions, who still gazed at one another in that positively sottish way. “Ahem!” uttered Jynx, and seated herself once more in the cane chair.

Thus abjured, the stricken pair, still staring in a heartfelt—and, Jynx thought, idiotic—manner into each other’s eyes, collapsed in unison upon the settee. “Percy,” said Jynx, rather ironically, “allow me to make you known to Cristin Ashley. Cristin, meet Perceval Phelps, Lord Peverell.”

“Charmed,” murmured Cristin, soulfully. Stricken speechless by such enthusiasm, Percy grasped her hands and beamed. “We shall go on a great deal more prosperously,” announced Jynx, acerbically, “if the pair of you would stop making sheeps’ eyes! Cristin, what was the purpose of that letter you sent me? Those melancholy and frightful disclosures you hinted at? Because, my girl, you don’t appear the least afflicted to me!”

“Afflicted?” repeated Cristin, rather vaguely. “Oh no, Jynx. I’m as happy as a grig.”

Miss Lennox was extremely affected by this little speech. In fact, Miss Lennox was so far roused from lethargy that she ground her teeth. “Then what the deuce did you mean by that note?” she inquired, in tones so severe that both Percy and Cristin gaped. “I warn you, Cristin, that I am sadly out of patience, and I expect an explanation immediately!”

“Now, now, Jynx! No need to be ripping up at the girl!” Percy patted Cristin’s hand, possession of which he still retained. “Pay her no mind, Miss Ashley. Jynx is feeling a little out of sorts.”

What Jynx was feeling was an unprecedented urge to strangle this crack-brained pair. “Well, Cristin?” she demanded. “I’m waiting!”

“Oh, Jynx, it’s been an age since we met.” Cristin’s blue eyes filled with tears. “Don’t be angry with me, please. I was so sure you’d understand—my poor father’s untimely end, and Aunt Adorée and Uncle Innis—oh! ‘Twas such a sad affair.”

“Now see what you’ve done!” Percy shot a bitter glance at Miss Lennox. Encouraged by his sympathy, Cristin cast herself weeping onto his chest, to the detriment of his cravat and embroidered waistcoat, neither of which desecrations Percy seemed in the least to mind. “There, there. Miss Ashley! No need to make a fuss! Jynx don’t mean half of what she says!”

“Oh!” Miss Ashley raised her pretty little face, the charm of which was not a whit diminished by tearstains. “Call me Cristin, pray!”

“Delighted!” Lord Peverell was much moved by this sign of favor. “And you must call me Percy!”

“And the pair of you are addle-brained!” commented Miss Lennox, who was excessively weary of listening to loverlike absurdities. She sent up a silent prayer of thanksgiving for Viscount Roxbury, who did not fatigue her with such flummery. “Am I to understand, Cristin, that you
wish
to stay in Blissington House?”

“But, Jynx!” Cristin’s wet eyes were wide. “Where else should I go? And I am very fond of Aunt Adorée, and even Uncle Innis, though they do argue a lot, and especially because Uncle Innis wants me to come into the saloons at night, and Aunt Adorée will not agree.” She frowned. “I suppose she will give in eventually; Uncle Innis usually has his way. And truly I would not mind so much, except for Eleazar Hyde— indeed, I think it would be great fun to meet fine ladies and gentlemen!”

Miss Lennox refrained from pointing out that Cristin was unlikely to become acquainted with the
crème de la crème
in the Blissington gaming rooms. “Who,” she ventured, “is Eleazar Hyde?”

Cristin grimaced, enchantingly. “Oh, the most dreadful old man, and I cannot but think his attentions a great deal too
particular.
But he is a friend of my Uncle Innis, and I am to be nice to him, my uncle says. So I am.” She looked perplexed. “But he does say the strangest things to me.”

Lord Peverell had been making the most extraordinary faces during this naive speech, and his comely, if vacant, countenance bloomed with color. “Hyde!” he ejaculated, at last. “A curst rum touch! I tell you, it won’t do!”

Jynx suspected that for once Percy had made a shrewd deduction; any friend of the gay and profligate Innis Ashley was very unlikely to be fit company for his unworldly niece. She set that matter aside for later consideration, and pursued her original line of endeavor. “But if you are quite happy with your lot, why did you write
so
to me?”

“Because you are lazy, Jynx!” Cristin’s giggle was very reminiscent of her aunt’s. “I knew that if you saw all was well you would not visit me. But if you thought I was in trouble, you would immediately come to my rescue, like you did when we were in school, and you kept the other girls from teasing and bullying me about my father!” She looked cautiously at her friend. “And I
did
wish to speak with you!”

Had Miss Lennox trusted herself to express an opinion of this candid confession, she might have remarked that her championship of Cristin Ashley was the sole piece of folly in an otherwise blameless career. “Why?” she inquired bluntly.

“Haven’t you guessed?” Cristin clapped her little hands in glee. “And you were always the clever one, Jynx! It is about Innis, of course! I fancy that my uncle has developed a decided partiality for you.”

This ingenuous utterance roused Lord Peverell from his entranced state into a tardy realization that Innis Ashley’s attentions toward Miss Lennox had been particular indeed. “Oh, God!” said he, in tones of the deepest dismay. “The Lennox fortune! I might as well give Shannon my head for washing without further ado!”