Chapter Seventeen

Jemima had steeled herself to have further conversation with the duke. The queen would not wish to talk to him forever.

Her Majesty did talk to him for an inordinate amount of time, though. As everyone must wait until the queen turned, Jemima had nearly exhausted all the replies she could give to Lord Ainsley. Though, he had not exhausted everything he could say about cigars. She was left with just repeating, "My grandfather thought the very same."

Lord Ainsley was growing very fond of her deceased grandfather, as they seemed to be in agreement on so many questions.

Finally, the queen was gripped with laughter over some matter. Jemima was surprised by it, as the duke never said anything very amusing.

Once Her Majesty had regained her composure, she turned to her other side to speak to the duchess.

Jemima turned too, but not before she heard Lord Ainsley on her other side say, "Lady Anne, I was just having the most interesting conversation with Lady Jemima about cigars. I must relate to you her grandfather's views on it."

If she was not so put out over the duke, she might have laughed very hard over poor Lady Anne's oncoming predicament.

She found the duke looking as serious as ever. And then he leapt right into the confounding habit he'd developed of asking her how she was, as if she were on the verge of collapse at any moment.

Jemima determined she would not put up with it. She would not spend this entire dinner being questioned about her state of mind.

"How did you find the roads between Kent and London?" she asked in response to the inquiry.

"The roads?"

"Yes, the roads, Duke. That would be a usual topic of conversation. I noticed that the patch just before Swanley was particularly rough."

The duke made mention of the roads for a bit, but then attempted once more to turn the conversation back to how she was feeling.

Jemima promptly asked him for his thoughts on what the weather might be like on the morrow.

Then again, when he tried to circle back to her feelings, she asked him what he thought his strategy might be when attempting rudderless sailing.

He did not seem to have one.

Each time he attempted to steer the conversation toward her, she steered it toward a general topic of conversation. It was very like steering a toddler when they were insistent on doing something dangerous. Forbidding never worked, only distraction could find success.

The duke's prying into her state of mind and attempting to make her feel as if she were not quite right had come to an end.

She had put an end to it. Let him find some other lady to examine and deem damaged and attempt to correct.

Jemima could not deny that she remained hurt by the duke's opinions of her. On the other hand, she would remember that she was Lady Jemima Fornay, daughter of the Duke of Eddelston. She was well and truly tired of being disapproved of and would not tolerate it any further.

She should have stuck to her original idea when she'd first come to Town. The gentlemen roaming round the place could like her or lump her. Bellview Cottage had not gone anywhere and would be there should she require it.

This thing with the duke, whatever it had been, was done.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Jasper was entirely perplexed. Each time he attempted to begin a conversation of any import that would hopefully lead to being able to assure Lady Jemima of his approbation, she changed the subject.

He did not wish to speak of roads or rudderless sailing or the weather.

She would not have it, though. She'd told him she'd never had a blow to the head, which of course he knew that she had. She was not at all willing to even approach the topic. It was as if, suddenly, she must deny her injuries. Perhaps she did not wish for anyone to sympathize with her?

As always was the queen's habit, the ladies had retired shortly after the dessert course.

He had spent an interminable hour with the other gentlemen at table. Ainsley wished to smoke cigars, and then talk about cigars. Jasper could not stand the smell of them and was engulphed in clouds of smoke for most of the time. Even his port began to taste like cigars.

Varnay loudly bragged that he'd already determined his strategy for rudderless sailing, as if anyone cared to know it. Jasper supposed he would have come up with several ideas, as he was a rudderless sort of gentleman.

Various other gentlemen drank far too much and then were stuck with the problem of entering the drawing room appearing as if they had not drunk too much. Lord Benson claimed he would use all his concentration to walk a straight line to the bookshelf, grab something from it, and pretend to read in a corner.

Finally, Lord Hartford, who was a neighbor who pitched in as Lady Dudmore's host, led the men back to the ladies.

Jasper was confounded when he got there. Lady Jemima had practically barricaded herself behind ladies who had circled their chairs around the queen. She played a card game with Miss Pickering and refused to meet his eye.

As he replayed his conversation with the lady over dinner, and his conversation with the queen too, an idea began to bubble up.

He'd been so intent on keeping Lady Jemima calm and assisting in her recovery that he'd entirely forgot what she was interested in.

She'd made clear from the first that she was interested in a gentleman who was more fun than he'd shown himself to be. The queen was under the impression that his lack of fun was a lady's problem to fix. But it was not, it was his problem to fix. At least, if he wished Lady Jemima to be at all interested in him.

It had been very stupid of him not to see it, and it had left her vulnerable to the allegedly fun-loving Viscount Varnay.

The lady had told him what she wished for and he'd done nothing about it. But it was very hard. For one, how was he to go about being fun? For another, if he were too fun, might that not be overwhelming for the lady, possibly leading to an outburst?

The activities of the drawing room had wrapped up early, as when the queen retired, everybody retired.

Now, Randolph took his coat. His valet said, "You would be very amused at the goings-on below stairs. Three lady's maids are on the verge of scratching each other's eyes out. I've laid money on the French lass."

"Charming," Jasper said drily.

"Dare I inquire what occurred above stairs?" Randolph asked.

Jasper would not have minded recounting the evening, if it were not so odd that it would be hard to put into words.

"Suffice it to say, on the morrow, I must be a deal more fun."

"A deal more fun?" Randolph said. "Do you imply that you've been at all fun and must only increase the conviviality?"

"Fine. Fun, period. I must be fun. Though, I do not have the first idea of how to get started with such a thing."

"I bet you don't."

"Do not go too far, Randolph," Jasper warned. It was likely a pointless warning, as Randolph was in the habit of going as far as he liked.

"All right, all right," his valet said. "Why do you not think back to your earlier years? When I was hired, you were sixteen and could be fun sometimes. A lot of times, actually. Remember when we used to sneak out of the house and walk five miles to the tavern? Remember when we used to hide all of Cook's rolling pins and he would go positively mad? Remember telling Jacobs that you were planning to move to America and pioneer the west and your father said we could take him with us? We had to wave a vinaigrette under his nose to bring him round."

Jasper laughed. Of course he remembered all those things, and much more.

"But then…" Randolph trailed off.

"But then my father died and I became the duke," Jasper answered for him. He still clearly remembered how heavy a mantle that had felt. Suddenly, there were stewards to consult with, bills to pay, multiple households to run, and dependents located far and wide. If he shirked his duties it would all fall apart and hundreds of lives would be affected. All childish pursuits had been necessarily put aside.

"Aye," Randolph said. "Reach back, why don't you? Reach back to the sixteen-year-old who was only a marquess and had no responsibilities sitting on his shoulders."

"I hardly think being sixteen again will get me anywhere."

"Well, you are nowhere at the moment."

That, unfortunately, was true. He was nowhere.

"So, it's to be the duke having fun at tennis on the morrow?"

Jasper did not answer. He did not want to play tennis, as he hardly remembered how, and he did not want to be tied to another gentleman while he was attempting to remember it. And yet, he must do all that and appear fun.

How had his life ever come to this?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Jemima had been up with the sun, as always happened to her when she did not sleep in her own bed.

Fortunately, Aggie knew it very well and had arranged to have Jemima's tray prepared early. Every guest in the house would get a tray delivered, as that was apparently more elegant than having sideboards in a breakfast room.

Jemima did not have any particular opinion on that notion, but she did have an opinion on Lady Dudmore's breakfast tray. Unlike the lonely biscuit that had been left in her room the day before, the tray was filled to the brim—eggs, sausage, bacon, kidneys, fried potatoes, toast, rolls, butter, a wedge of cheese, a pastry, a selection of jams, and a large pot of tea. It was glorious and she ate every crumb.

She had hurriedly dressed and slipped through the connecting door to see the duchess. That lady was still abed and nibbled on a corner of toast.

They'd had a comfortable hour together, except the uncomfortable minutes when the duchess wished to speak of the duke.

Jemima told Her Grace that she had informed the duke that she'd never had a blow to the head. And, that he had not believed it for a minute. She ended with proclaiming that she was positively done with even thinking of that person.

The duchess had not argued the point, but instead had just seemed very thoughtful over it.

They had since descended to the front hall at promptly ten o'clock. The queen came down at fifteen minutes past, and they were led to the structure where Twin Tennis was to take place.

The duke made several attempts to catch her eye and he was very weirdly smiling. At least, it might be a smile. It was hard to tell. Whatever it was, it seemed very odd.

It was so alarming that the duchess said softly, "You do not suppose he is drunk?"

Jemima did not know what he was, but she was determined not to look at him.

They entered the building, which was a squat square with a sloped roof. There were two courts and stone seating of three rows set like an amphitheater. Jemima had only seen a court like it once before, as Lord Jeffries of her neighborhood was keen on court tennis. However, the sport was not very popular anymore outside of certain circles so she wondered if all the gentlemen who would play it had actually played it before.

Lord Hartford, Lady Dudmore's neighbor and co-host, seemed to know all about it and announced that he would judge the plays and keep the scores.

The gentlemen had all been handed rackets by a swarm of footmen. More than a few gentlemen stared at their rackets as if they'd never held one before, which Jemima supposed they hadn't.

Nobody who would view the matches dared claim a place to sit yet, as the queen remained standing.

Her Majesty said, "The waning popularity of court tennis has always displeased us, though we remain thankful that Lady Dudmore and some others in this neighborhood have kept with the tradition. Should any of our fine competitors never have played the sport, well, that will be part of the fun, I imagine. My dear hostess and I have delighted in deciding who will be tied to who, as we do like to amuse ourselves. The lords Kendrick and Pine together. Mr. Robins and Lord Henry together. Lord Michaels and Lord Pelham together. And that leaves the Duke of Barstow and Lord Varnay together. I am very amused."

Jemima's eyes had widened over the last pairing. If by amusing themselves Lady Dudmore and the queen meant tying two gentlemen together who could not stand the sight of one another, they had been entirely successful.

"Oh dear," the duchess said.

That was an understatement. Lord Varnay's face was screwed up tight and Jemima was certain if it were not the queen making the pairing, he would have thrown his racket and stalked off.

The duke's expression was…she did not know what it was. His eyes were a bit too wide and he wore a strange, almost maniacal sort of smile. He was showing too many teeth. What was wrong with him?

Four footmen approached with oversized belts of some sort.

"Gentlemen, stand by your twin," the queen said. "Tennis begins promptly and the two sets of winners will have their pick of boats for the rudderless regatta."

Though there were four pairs of gentlemen to be roped together with the belts, Jemima could see very well that all eyes were on the duke and Lord Varnay. Everybody knew of the animosity between them.

Footmen had hurried with two cushions to the middle of the lowest row and the queen and Lady Dudmore sat down on them. As far as Jemima could see, everybody else would be left to make do with sitting directly on stone.

Most of the other guests filled in the rows around and directly above the queen, all eager to be within hearing of Her Majesty.

The duchess studied the scene and said, "Let us take seats near the door. I fear this situation may devolve into chaos and we may wish to depart speedily."

Jemima felt a deep sense of alarm at the duchess' prediction. There could not be a worse situation than the duke tied to Lord Varnay. And then, there was something wrong with the duke. He seemed to wear some sort of forced grin that was a bit frightening. She began to wonder if he had perhaps been bitten by a rabid dog.

Miss Pickering hurried to their side. She curtsied and said, "Your Grace."

"Yes, Miss Pickering, I can see you are all aflutter," the duchess said. "You'd best sit with us."

The look of relief on Miss Pickering's features told the tale. She was just as concerned as Jemima was.

They took their seats and Jemima found herself in the middle of the duchess and Miss Pickering. The footmen below had finished tying the pairs of gentlemen together.

The duke's left leg was securely fastened to Lord Varnay's right leg. The two gentlemen stared at each other, which was nerve-inducing for several reasons. One, their faces were, by necessity, very close together. Two, the duke still wore that awful expression that seemed part delighted and part witless. It really was very off-putting and Lord Varnay appeared wary of it.

Lord Hartford stepped forward and in a sonorous voice explained the rules of the game. As Jemima remembered from seeing it done, the rules were long, complicated, seemingly arbitrary, and never-ending.

All the gentlemen had looks first of concentration, then confusion, then consternation. How were they to remember such a list? If this thing happened, then that thing happened, but if that other thing happened, then another thing happened. A scholar could not keep track of it all.

Lord Hartford seemed to see it for himself and said, "Perhaps we just go one step at a time. He named the service side and the hazard end and Jemima at least remembered what those were—the service side would always serve, which would be a distinct advantage. The duke and Lord Varnay were on the hazard end.

Lord Hartford explained that the server would need to hit the receiver's roof and then the ball must land somewhere in the box marked out on the floor.

The receiver would attempt to return it from there, preferably to the dedans to win a point, which was an area in the back of the server's side.

Seeing all eight gentlemen staring at him intently, Lord Hartford said, "Let us start there, I suppose. We'll see how far we get."

Miss Pickering gripped Jemima's hand.

Lord Hartford held up a flag, which Jemima did not at all recall from the sport. "And," he shouted, "we begin!" He lowered the flag and stepped back.

What took place next was unlike any court tennis match Jemima had ever witnessed at her neighbor's house. The ball was served to the duke's side, it hit the roof and landed in the square as it was meant to. Both Lord Varnay and the duke swung at it, missed, but hit each other very hard. In the face.

There was at first a deathly silence. But then, the queen roared with laughter and everybody else decided it must be amusing and laughed too.

Jemima squeezed back on Miss Pickering's hand. The duchess whispered, "We will all be lucky if there is not a duel at the end of this."

Jemima thought just the same. And yet, the game went on. It unfortunately went on just as it had started. All the gentlemen ended hitting each other on occasion. To swing was to aim in the direction of one's partner and the gentleman must be careful to stop the swing short to avoid it. The other pairs seemed to be slowly mastering it, and then apologizing when they made a misstep.

However, it became clear that the duke and Lord Varnay were not simply accidentally hitting each other, but they had made that into the sport. There were times when there was not even a ball nearby and they swung at each other. At one moment, Lord Varnay had reached his other leg around and stomped on the duke's foot. At another moment, the duke took the opportunity to throw themselves both to the ground, Lord Varnay coming down hard on his shoulder. All along, the duke kept that odd expression—wide eyed and showing teeth.

Jemima got the feeling that Lord Varnay was becoming as frightened of the expression as she was herself.

In the middle of this fiasco, the queen suddenly raised her hand. Lord Hartford stopped the play.

"Well, Lady Dudmore," she said, "we never do know how our invented games will play out and this one has been quite the adventure. I will stop it now and sadly cannot name any winners. I advise all the gentlemen to brush up on court tennis, as one never does know when one will be asked to play. Now, you may all retire to the house, with the exception of the Duke of Barstow and Lord Varnay. I would like a word with those two gentlemen."

Jemima and Miss Pickering looked at each other. Then they looked to the duchess. She sighed and said, "The queen is not amused."

As the duchess had placed them very near the door, they hurried out and made their way back to the house. While they walked, the duchess advised that they all retire to their rooms until the mid-day repast. It would be well, she said, to be out of the line of fire.

What a morning. Jemima could not say what would happen, but she thought it likely that the queen would send both the duke and Lord Varnay home.

It was very irritating that she had mixed feelings over it. She had wished the duke would take himself off. Now he was very likely to take himself off and she was not entirely satisfied.

She was, she noticed, getting very accustomed to feeling like an idiot over her feelings, though.

And then, more feelings came upon her when she considered what the duke and Lord Varnay might do if they departed. A duel was really not out of the question.

That idea gripped her heart and she was mortified to understand that if it happened, she hoped to see the duke come out the victor. It was a thing she would never breathe a word of to Miss Pickering.