the garden.”
“The ‘princess,’ too?”
“And Ling Chow.”
“Delightful. Please, my lady, ask his lordship to join us in the garden saloon.” Moments later, Lord Gordon joined the others, and Sir Brian greeted him with a brief nod. “Good day, my lord. I doubt you would relish missing this. The others will be in from the garden in a trice. The admirable Borthwick sent a footman to fetch them.”
“Upon my word, sir, is there to be an announcement forthcoming? Young Andrew mentioned his intentions to me, but I didn’t know he’d popped the question already. Dashed fine choice, if you ask me. A real princess, and wealthy to boot if that Ling Chow has his facts straight.”
Sir Brian’s expression hardened noticeably, but his attention was diverted when Andrew, Kara, and Ling Chow entered from the garden. He turned toward them, his lips firming into a straight line as he watched their approach.
Andrew eyes him warily, and there was a touch of defiance in his voice when he greeted him. “The footman said you wanted to speak to us.”
“I do, indeed, lad, but first there are some introductions to be made. I believe you are slightly, but only slightly, acquainted with Miss Mary Wilcox of Witheridge.” He gestured toward Kara, who gasped, then collapsed into the nearest chair, clutching at her bosom and staring at him in dismay.
Andrew’s eyes widened with shock. “No! That cannot be. It cannot!”
“It is quite true,” his uncle informed him flatly. “Your princess is no more than a wench from Devonshire looking to snare a rich young husband. She and her cohorts, such as your friend Ling Chow, here…” He broke off long enough to turn a sharp look upon the fellow. “His real name, by the way, is Charlie Dawson, and he is an erstwhile miner from the same general area as Miss Wilcox. The two of them, along with a third man named Richards, tried to pull off the same stunt over in Almondsbury only a month ago. I have spoken to people there who will quite willingly identify her, including the parents of another young fool who would have married her in order to offer the protection of his name against her mythical slavers. I’ve talked to members of her family as well. Your princess is unmasked, Andrew.”
“Well, upon my word!” exclaimed Lord Gordon. “To have taken us all in like that. ’Tis a clever piece of work you’ve done, sir, to unmask these villains. To think the princess you rescued was naught but a common Devonshire wench, after all, young Andrew. Fair gammoned us all, she did. Lucky for you your uncle kept his wits about him, ain’t it?”
Flushing with mortification, Andrew glared wretchedly at Lord Gordon and the others, then turned on his heels and strode out of the room.
“Oh, dear,” murmured Lady Gordon compassionately. “The poor boy.”
“He’ll get over it,” Sir Brian said in a harsh voice.
“Will you take this pair in charge?” Lord Gordon asked hopefully.
“There is no charge. As yet, I fear they’ve broken no law. However,” Sir Brian added, turning a gimlet eye upon the hapless girl and her cohort, “I would strongly advise you both to have a care about playing this game in future. Others might not be so lenient toward you as we are prepared to be.”
“Kin we go?” the erstwhile Ling Chow demanded in a surly tone.
“You may.”
“Come on then, Molly,” the man said, taking her arm in a bruising grip, hauling her unceremoniously out of the chair, and fairly pushing her out of the room ahead of him.
Jessica turned to face Sir Brian. “May I have a private word with you?” she asked in chilled tones.
“Of course.” His good humor seemed to be restored by the departure of Mary Wilcox and Charlie Dawson, and he returned her cool look with a smile. Then, turning to the others, he begged their indulgence. “If you will excuse us,” he said smoothly, “Miss Jessica and I will be in the garden.”
Lord Gordon gave beaming approval, and her
“The ‘princess,’ too?”
“And Ling Chow.”
“Delightful. Please, my lady, ask his lordship to join us in the garden saloon.” Moments later, Lord Gordon joined the others, and Sir Brian greeted him with a brief nod. “Good day, my lord. I doubt you would relish missing this. The others will be in from the garden in a trice. The admirable Borthwick sent a footman to fetch them.”
“Upon my word, sir, is there to be an announcement forthcoming? Young Andrew mentioned his intentions to me, but I didn’t know he’d popped the question already. Dashed fine choice, if you ask me. A real princess, and wealthy to boot if that Ling Chow has his facts straight.”
Sir Brian’s expression hardened noticeably, but his attention was diverted when Andrew, Kara, and Ling Chow entered from the garden. He turned toward them, his lips firming into a straight line as he watched their approach.
Andrew eyes him warily, and there was a touch of defiance in his voice when he greeted him. “The footman said you wanted to speak to us.”
“I do, indeed, lad, but first there are some introductions to be made. I believe you are slightly, but only slightly, acquainted with Miss Mary Wilcox of Witheridge.” He gestured toward Kara, who gasped, then collapsed into the nearest chair, clutching at her bosom and staring at him in dismay.
Andrew’s eyes widened with shock. “No! That cannot be. It cannot!”
“It is quite true,” his uncle informed him flatly. “Your princess is no more than a wench from Devonshire looking to snare a rich young husband. She and her cohorts, such as your friend Ling Chow, here…” He broke off long enough to turn a sharp look upon the fellow. “His real name, by the way, is Charlie Dawson, and he is an erstwhile miner from the same general area as Miss Wilcox. The two of them, along with a third man named Richards, tried to pull off the same stunt over in Almondsbury only a month ago. I have spoken to people there who will quite willingly identify her, including the parents of another young fool who would have married her in order to offer the protection of his name against her mythical slavers. I’ve talked to members of her family as well. Your princess is unmasked, Andrew.”
“Well, upon my word!” exclaimed Lord Gordon. “To have taken us all in like that. ’Tis a clever piece of work you’ve done, sir, to unmask these villains. To think the princess you rescued was naught but a common Devonshire wench, after all, young Andrew. Fair gammoned us all, she did. Lucky for you your uncle kept his wits about him, ain’t it?”
Flushing with mortification, Andrew glared wretchedly at Lord Gordon and the others, then turned on his heels and strode out of the room.
“Oh, dear,” murmured Lady Gordon compassionately. “The poor boy.”
“He’ll get over it,” Sir Brian said in a harsh voice.
“Will you take this pair in charge?” Lord Gordon asked hopefully.
“There is no charge. As yet, I fear they’ve broken no law. However,” Sir Brian added, turning a gimlet eye upon the hapless girl and her cohort, “I would strongly advise you both to have a care about playing this game in future. Others might not be so lenient toward you as we are prepared to be.”
“Kin we go?” the erstwhile Ling Chow demanded in a surly tone.
“You may.”
“Come on then, Molly,” the man said, taking her arm in a bruising grip, hauling her unceremoniously out of the chair, and fairly pushing her out of the room ahead of him.
Jessica turned to face Sir Brian. “May I have a private word with you?” she asked in chilled tones.
“Of course.” His good humor seemed to be restored by the departure of Mary Wilcox and Charlie Dawson, and he returned her cool look with a smile. Then, turning to the others, he begged their indulgence. “If you will excuse us,” he said smoothly, “Miss Jessica and I will be in the garden.”
Lord Gordon gave beaming approval, and her
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