Regency Sting (18 page)

“Since I assume that Mr. Brindle investigated you thoroughly, I shall not question your word on
that
score,” she grudgingly acknowledged.

“Then I don't see—”

“Oh, don't you? Are you going to pretend
now
that you have always been open and aboveboard with me? Don't look at me with that sham innocence! Will you deny that you led me to believe that you'd never taken tea in a refined drawing room? Or that you'd never asked a lady to dance? All that backwoods ignorance! Why, you almost had me believing we were lucky you could
read
!”

“Oh,
that
!” Jason said, his brow clearing with relief. “Is
that
all that's botherin' you?”

“Is that
all
?” she echoed. Jumping up from her chair, she faced him with trembling rage. “Do you mean to imply that this is
unimportant
? A paltry little
misunderstanding
?”

“Yes, ma'am, that's
exactly
what I mean to imply. It was no more than a little joke.”

“A joke? A
joke
? For more than a month you tricked me, lied to me, evaded and deceived me at every turn! You let me instruct you, coach you, attempt to teach you to bow, to speak, to dress, to dance … when all the time you
knew
you were more than adequately capable of performing your role without any help from me!”

“Oh, come now, Anne,” he said placatingly, putting a hand on her arm in an attempt to restrain her fury. “Where's your sense of humor? I only meant to tease you a bit—”

“
Tease
?” she cried, thrusting his hand away. “Is
that
what you call it? You have used me shamefully, abused my trust and made a fool of me, and you call it teasing!” She turned her back on him and put her head in her trembling hands. “And what makes it all so
ugly
is that you've done the same to Mama and Peter, too!”

This last thrust was more than Jason's good nature could stand. “Now look
here
!” he exploded, pulling her around to face him. “I've heard enough of this nonsense. You listen to
me
for a moment! In the first place, Lady Harriet, whatever she may have thought of me before tonight, certainly never considered me as
primitive
as you did, and therefore she is perfectly delighted—not upset, as you are—by learning that I am adequately civilized. And as for Peter, he never doubted it from the first, so your remarks about him are completely unfounded. But the most important point, my girl,” he said, emphasizing his words by grasping her shoulders as if he were about to give her a good shaking, “is that, if I've
really
used you shamefully, you have only yourself to blame! Yes, my dear, you brought all this on
yourself
, by your mindless assumption that Americans are all untutored clods without taste or familiarity with the civilized world. What do you think America
is
—an aboriginal jungle? Did it never occur to you, ma'am, that we have books and schools and drawing rooms and teacups in the United States?”

She stared up at him, trembling and confused. For a moment their eyes locked, his glaring and hers uncertain. Then she wavered and lowered her head. ‘Let me go, sir,” she muttered. “If this is the way you were taught to treat a lady in the United States, it is not as civilized a place as you seem to think. You are hurting me.”

He dropped his hands with a reluctant laugh. “Touché, ma'am. But I was
not
taught, in America, to handle ladies roughly. You seem to bring out the savage in me.”

“I suppose,” she remarked petulantly as she returned to her chair, “that since you blame me for misjudging you, you expect
me
to apologize to
you
for this imbroglio.”

“Not at all. I merely hope to reestablish a sensible perspective of our relationship.”

“We
have
no relationship, my lord. We
never
have had one. What little bond we may have built up in the last few weeks was based on dishonesty and false assumptions, and it no longer exists.”

“Then let's build a new one. And you can begin by calling me Jason instead of the ‘my lord' you insist on using.”

“It was at
your
insistence, my lord, that I so address you.”

“You knew perfectly well that I was joking.”

“I have no liking for your jokes. And I have no wish to establish a relationship with a man who finds it amusing to deceive—”

Before the last word left her tongue, she found herself being abruptly hauled to her feet. With only one hand, he caught both her hands behind her and pinioned her against him with his arm. “I did
not
deceive you!” he muttered angrily. “You deceived yourself.” With his free hand he cupped her chin and forced her to face him. “Look at me!” he commanded. “Take a good look! It's time you began to know me. I'm neither the American primitive you thought I was nor the English dandy you tried to make me. I'm merely a man—an
individual
with a character uniquely my own. I won't be forced into a mold of your devising—not the
cloddish
one, or the
lordly
one, or the
deceitful
one. So look at me, ma'am. It may be worth your while to open your stubborn mind and learn to recognize the man I really am.”

She tried to respond, but couldn't find the words. Her heart was pounding with something akin to terror, but she didn't feel afraid. He, too, was in the grip of some strong emotion, for she could feel his heart pounding as loudly as hers. But the lightly colored eyes looking down at her revealed nothing to help her identify this bewildering sensation.

For several seconds neither of them moved. Then Anne became embarrassingly aware of the intimacy of their position. No sooner had the feeling struck her than she recognized a responsive flicker in his eyes—a spark of amusement flared into life in their blue depths. He had read her mind! She reacted with a blush. She made a movement to break free of his grasp, but his arm tightened around her and the gleam in his eyes brightened.

She remembered another time that he'd held her like this. He'd been about to kiss her, then, but she'd been furious with him and had pushed him away. Now, more angry than ever, she felt the same unexpected and sharp desire for his kiss, and the same irritation with herself. Again, she tried to push him away, but this time she was completely helpless. A smile dawned slowly on his face. “Jason,” she warned breathlessly, “don't you
dare
!”

There was no question in her mind that he'd been about to kiss her. But the question of whether or not he would have heeded her warning was never answered, for the door opened and they quickly jumped apart. It was Peter who stood in the doorway, his eager smile quickly fading into a look of astonished and acute embarrassment. “Oh … sorry,” he mumbled awkwardly. “I didn't know … that is, I didn't mean to—”

“Come in, Peter,” Jason said with casual aplomb.

“No, it's all right. I don't want to interrupt … that is, I mean I only wanted to find out how things went. I'll talk to you tomorrow.”

“No need to wait till tomorrow. Your sister and I have finished our talk, have we not, ma'am?”

“Quite finished,” she answered icily.

“You see?” he said cheerfully to Peter. “Besides, I was about to go out. I must pick up Aunt Harriet—she's still at the Dabneys'.”

With that, he went quickly from the room, closing the door behind him. “That
blackguard
!” Anne hissed, throwing herself into the chair. “That odious, insufferable
toad
!”

Peter regarded her in some perplexity. “Who,
Jason
? I had the distinct impression, when I burst in here so inopportunely, that you rather
liked
him.”

“If that was your impression,” she told her brother roundly, “you have completely misunderstood the situation. The fellow is a dastardly
imposter
, and I have never disliked anyone more.”

“Jason? An imposter? I don't believe it. What's he done?”

“What hasn't he done! The wretch
tricked
me!”

“If you mean that he made an improper advance to you, my dear, I don't in the least blame you for being angry. I would not have thought it of him, although he's often told me that he finds you a deucedly pretty girl.”

“Don't be a gudgeon. He made no improper advances. The episode you burst in on was a mere nothing. What I learned about him this evening was much, much worse.”

“Good lord, what
was
it?”

“I found out that everything he's done since he arrived has been an enormous
pretense
. Everything! The backwoods manner, the drawling speech, the outlandish clothing, the blunt manners, the clumsy dancing … everything!”

“Oh, is
that
all? You can't mean that you've got yourself in this state of agitation over Jason's
raillery
.”

“Raillery? How can you call it raillery? It was nothing but lying and deceit!”

“Really, Anne, you seem to be making much out of nothing much. Anyone having the least knowledge of Jason can tell that his greenheaded-foreigner performance is play-acting.”

Anne stared at her brother in some dismay. “Do you mean to say that you knew
all along
that he was perfectly capable of meeting the
ton
and talking to the Prince and dancing with ladies?”

“I may not have realized that he could dance, but I knew he was no fool. From the first I could see that he was well-educated and knew his way about. Very clever fellow, Jason. Holds an advanced degree from a Virginia college, I believe. William and Mary, I think he said. I take it he did himself proud dancing with the ladies tonight?”

“He was the most spectacular success. He danced superbly! You should have seen him. He moved around the ballroom as if he'd been
to the manner born
! You wouldn't have believed it—everyone
adored
him! Even the Prince was enchanted with him.”

“Well, good for old Jason!” Peter looked at his sister in mild concern. “One would think you'd be overjoyed, instead of sitting there looking like a thundercloud.”

“Why should I be overjoyed? He lied and deceived and tricked me at every turn. I spent
weeks
trying to instruct a man I believed to be an artless innocent to face the lions of society, and all the while the fellow was a lion Himself!”

“Yes, my dear, I understand that. What I
don't
understand is why you're so angry about it. As far as I can see, he didn't actually lie to you—he merely permitted you to believe what you wished to believe. I don't see that as such a terrible crime. Can it be that there's something
else
which angers you? Is it because he wasted so much of your time?”

“No … no, it's not that. It's because … because …” She hesitated, trying to sort out the confusion of her feelings. “It's because … he made such a
fool
of m-me,” she said tremulously.

Peter shook his head. “No, I don't think that's true,” he said thoughtfully. “Neither Mama nor I found him to be an artless innocent. I don't feel
I've
been made a fool of, and neither, I'd wager, does Mama. Perhaps you should have been a more careful observer.”

“Are you trying to tell me,” she demanded in chagrin, “that
I'm
at fault in all this?”

“I don't think
anyone's
at fault. I admit that I don't have any great understanding of these man-woman affairs, but—”

“
Man-woman affairs
! Really, Peter, I assure you that there is no such thing between Jason and me,” she said with some asperity.

He shrugged. “Are you sure? Well, as I said, I don't know much about such things, except what I read in books. I only wanted to suggest that you're far too upset over nothing. The evening went well, and Jason is a success. It seems to me that you should try to forget the rest of it. Come on, let's go up to bed.”

“I don't see how I can forget being made a fool of,” Anne muttered glumly.

Peter went to the door. “Whenever someone says, ‘He made a fool of me,' I tend not to believe it.”

“Oh? Why not?”

“Because no one can easily make another a fool.” He opened the door and added gently, “When one feels foolish, it's usually because one has made a fool of one's self. I'm not saying that is necessarily the case with you, though. You must decide that for yourself. Good night, my dear.”

Fourteen

Anne lay awake most of the night, brooding over her brother's last words.
Had
she made a fool of herself? Was
she herself
to blame for misreading Jason's character? She painfully remembered a number of times when she
should
have recognized—by Jason's inate politeness, his sensible attitudes, his quips, his self-confidence, his relationship with her brother Peter and his easy manner with her stepmother—that he was a cultivated, urbane gentleman. But she brushed these thoughts aside. The fact was that he had consistently and deliberately hoodwinked her. His clumsy performances during the dancing lessons, his tendency to slip into the drawling speech of a country boy, his pretended ignorance of the manners of the drawing room and modes of dress and behavior of the
ton
—all these he had enacted with the uncanny ability of a born deceiver. Why, then, was she to be blamed for not recognizing the fraud?

Of course, she had to admit to herself that she'd jumped to false assumptions about him from the first. But she could scarcely be blamed for those mistaken first impressions—why,
everyone
believed that Americans were roughnecks and oafs! Jason should have taken it upon himself to
correct
the misconceptions, not encourage them by wantonly and dishonestly playing up to them. For that dishonesty, he could not be forgiven. She would not forgive him to her dying day!