to discuss,” the lord intoned grandly, apparently unaware that Juliana knew that his position at the Admiralty required almost as little effort as the commodore’s. “How does Mrs. Jolly fair?”
“Oh, quite well, though she has a headache today and could not receive callers.”
“Dweadful,” the lord replied with a veneer of sympathy. It was no secret that Mrs. Jolly considered the lord’s purchasedtitle “new-minted.” “But what of you? Is yowr ankle quite well?”
“My ankle? Oh yes, quite,” she replied as she looked past Renquist’s shoulder. Near the pianoforte stood Lord and Lady Marchmont, a pleasant but vague couple who rarely spoke of anything but the weather. Nearby, Mr. Feathergill and his wife chatted with some other officers, and though Juliana could not hear them, she was quite sure that Feathergill was again expressing his dissatisfaction at being passed over years ago to become the Vice Admiral of the Blue.
Over by the bookcases stood two plump officers who were named Rice and Caldwell, whom Juliana always thought of as a matched set of pleasantly overstuffed armchairs. And near the window, the commodore and Meg stood with another man whose dark, lean shape was silhouetted against the window. Juliana peered closer, trying to make out who it was. Instead, she saw Meg glance toward her, looking miserable.
Miserable?
The stranger turned. Juliana froze as she recognized the bleak, hard lines of his profile.
Her smile disintegrated. She wished she could run away and hide for a century. She wished the earth would open up and swallow her.
She wished she’d worn her prettier dress.
“There she is!” Commodore Jolly bounded up to her. “Look who I invited, my dear. Captain Gabriel—the man who was so helpful to you when you hurt your ankle.”
“Helpful?” Juliana’s word came out as sputtered gasp. “Commodore, he is the man who
caused
me to hurt my ankle.”
The guests began whispering among themselves. The commodore’s usually befuddled expression became positively perplexed. “But I thought … I imagined … oh heavens, this is a tangle.”
“A tangle of my making,” Connor admitted, steppingforward. “Commodore, I confess that I accepted your invitation under less than forthright circumstances. I saw this as an opportunity to beg Lady Juliana’s forgiveness.”
Forgive him?
Juliana thought. She’d rather be keelhauled! Years ago Connor Reed’s duplicity had nearly ruined her life, and she’d be the fool of the world to let it happen again. Yet as she looked up into his face, she found herself hoping, almost desperately, that somewhere underneath those cold, pale eyes and ruthlessly self-assured smile lived the boy she’d grown up with, the boy she’d always depended on, always trusted, always loved.…
Grinigog!
She turned away, angrier than ever that he’d managed to undermine her resolve yet again. She considered storming out of the room, but something far more cutting came to mind. With a practiced eloquence she lifted her hand to her mouth and gave a bored yawn. “Of course I shall forgive Captain Gabriel. I have always believed it is charitable to pardon the slights of the lower … that is to say, of
gentlemen
such as yourself.”
Connor sucked in his breath as if he’d been struck by a bullet. For an instant his composure was stripped away and he stared down at her with the stark pain she’d seen in his eyes as a child. But within a second he regained his control. His jaw pulled taut and his eyes turned to opaque mirrors, reflecting her own indifference back at her. Then his mouth edged up into a smile that held every ounce of the cold ruthlessness that had made him the most notorious privateer on the high seas. “The lady is too kind,” he stated, giving Juliana a bow of mock deference. “Commodore, I thank you for your hospitality, but I fear I have another engagement and must take my leave. Good evening.”
The captain left the room
“Oh, quite well, though she has a headache today and could not receive callers.”
“Dweadful,” the lord replied with a veneer of sympathy. It was no secret that Mrs. Jolly considered the lord’s purchasedtitle “new-minted.” “But what of you? Is yowr ankle quite well?”
“My ankle? Oh yes, quite,” she replied as she looked past Renquist’s shoulder. Near the pianoforte stood Lord and Lady Marchmont, a pleasant but vague couple who rarely spoke of anything but the weather. Nearby, Mr. Feathergill and his wife chatted with some other officers, and though Juliana could not hear them, she was quite sure that Feathergill was again expressing his dissatisfaction at being passed over years ago to become the Vice Admiral of the Blue.
Over by the bookcases stood two plump officers who were named Rice and Caldwell, whom Juliana always thought of as a matched set of pleasantly overstuffed armchairs. And near the window, the commodore and Meg stood with another man whose dark, lean shape was silhouetted against the window. Juliana peered closer, trying to make out who it was. Instead, she saw Meg glance toward her, looking miserable.
Miserable?
The stranger turned. Juliana froze as she recognized the bleak, hard lines of his profile.
Her smile disintegrated. She wished she could run away and hide for a century. She wished the earth would open up and swallow her.
She wished she’d worn her prettier dress.
“There she is!” Commodore Jolly bounded up to her. “Look who I invited, my dear. Captain Gabriel—the man who was so helpful to you when you hurt your ankle.”
“Helpful?” Juliana’s word came out as sputtered gasp. “Commodore, he is the man who
caused
me to hurt my ankle.”
The guests began whispering among themselves. The commodore’s usually befuddled expression became positively perplexed. “But I thought … I imagined … oh heavens, this is a tangle.”
“A tangle of my making,” Connor admitted, steppingforward. “Commodore, I confess that I accepted your invitation under less than forthright circumstances. I saw this as an opportunity to beg Lady Juliana’s forgiveness.”
Forgive him?
Juliana thought. She’d rather be keelhauled! Years ago Connor Reed’s duplicity had nearly ruined her life, and she’d be the fool of the world to let it happen again. Yet as she looked up into his face, she found herself hoping, almost desperately, that somewhere underneath those cold, pale eyes and ruthlessly self-assured smile lived the boy she’d grown up with, the boy she’d always depended on, always trusted, always loved.…
Grinigog!
She turned away, angrier than ever that he’d managed to undermine her resolve yet again. She considered storming out of the room, but something far more cutting came to mind. With a practiced eloquence she lifted her hand to her mouth and gave a bored yawn. “Of course I shall forgive Captain Gabriel. I have always believed it is charitable to pardon the slights of the lower … that is to say, of
gentlemen
such as yourself.”
Connor sucked in his breath as if he’d been struck by a bullet. For an instant his composure was stripped away and he stared down at her with the stark pain she’d seen in his eyes as a child. But within a second he regained his control. His jaw pulled taut and his eyes turned to opaque mirrors, reflecting her own indifference back at her. Then his mouth edged up into a smile that held every ounce of the cold ruthlessness that had made him the most notorious privateer on the high seas. “The lady is too kind,” he stated, giving Juliana a bow of mock deference. “Commodore, I thank you for your hospitality, but I fear I have another engagement and must take my leave. Good evening.”
The captain left the room
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