The Battling Bluestocking by Amanda Scott Page A

explaining the lesson he had learned and assuring her just as earnestly that besides leaving him to the discomfort of a jail cell for three days’ time, his uncle has torn a proper strip off him for his prank, but Jessica listened with only half an ear. It occurred to her that although she ought to have been angry that Sir Brian had acted in opposition to her wishes, she was in fact relieved that the responsibility for Andrew’s fate was no longer laid upon her doorstep.
    “And I had the devil’s own time finding Marmion again, because one of the housemaids put it back on the wrong bookshelf after you’d closed it,” Andrew concluded, breaking into her thoughts. Then, after a brief pause, he said, “So what shall I tell him?”
    “Tell whom? I’m frightfully sorry, Andrew,” she apologized. “I’m afraid something distracted me.”
    He smiled a little forlornly. “Uncle Brian said the decision is still up to you, ma’am. About the assizes.”
    “You mean he still means to have you up on my charges unless I formally withdraw them?”
    “Of course, ma’am. It’s the law, and Uncle Brian sets great store by the law. I can tell you,” he added ruefully and with a reminiscent gleam in his eye, “that I wish I had realized how much store he sets by it before I ever got myself involved in this tangle.”
    Jessica let out a long breath, unsure as to how this turn of events affected her. But as she was examining her own feelings, she suddenly realized that her companion was regarding her with a great deal of anxiety. “Oh, Andrew, forgive me,” she said quickly, compassionately. “Of course I shall withdraw the charge. I never meant it, you know. Not once I realized you were not a hardened criminal. I’m afraid I was guilty of the very prejudice—in reverse, you know—that I accused your uncle and Lord Gordon of harboring. And then my dreadful temper got the better of me, and…well, that is all quite unimportant to you, is it not? You will tell your uncle for me to do as he thinks best in the matter. I do hope he was not too harsh with you.”
    Andrew grinned, looking not unlike his uncle when he did so. “To say that he was mad as fire, ma’am, would still be to understate the case. I could scarcely stand upon my feet when he had done with me.” Noting her shocked expression, he added hastily, “No, no, my uncle ceased long ago to punish me physically for my misdeeds. Which is fortunate indeed, since I am a deal too old for whipping and he has the good fortune to be one of the foremost amateur pugilists in England. The reason I found it difficult to stand is simply that he has a way with words that turns my knees to pudding. And he doesn’t even raise his voice.”
    Andrew grimaced at the memory of his private confrontation with his uncle, but once again Jessica’s thoughts had wandered. She, too, was remembering such a confrontation, and the information that Sir Brian was thought to be an outstanding man in the ring brought a smile to her lips as the vision of him thumping to his backside in the rose garden danced merrily through her mind.
    Andrew left some moments later, and Jessica returned to the first-floor drawing room to report to Lord and Lady Gordon that she had agreed to withdraw her charge. Lord Gordon expressed vociferous approval, and her ladyship also appeared to be relieved. Jessica wondered what Sir Brian’s reaction would be.
    She expected that he might call the next day to extend his gratitude, and when he did not, she began to watch the post, thinking he might send a note. When none was forthcoming, she began to wonder whether she would see him again at all. Possibly, she thought, he would simply remove to London, where the annual social Season was soon to get under way. The thought, since she did not intend to go to the metropolis for some weeks yet herself, was a rather daunting one.
    In order to restore her senses to their usual calm state, she decided some three or four days