Page 7 of Captain Jack’s Woman

“Oh,” was all Kit could find to say.

“But,” added Amy, drawing herself up, “it will only be for another few months. And at least he’s safe in England, not facing the French guns.” Smiling, she squeezed Kit’s arm. “Incidentally, he said he was most desirous of making your acquaintance.”

Kit looked her disbelief. “Did he really say that or are you just being loyal?”

Amy laughed. “You’re right. What with his apologies for not being able to accompany us, I’m afraid we never got around to discussing you.”

Kit nodded sagely. “I see. Too feverish for sense.”

Amy grinned but refused confirmation. Together, they strolled among the guests, chatting easily. The conversation in the drawing room revolved around farming and the local markets, but once they were all seated about the long dining table, the talk shifted to other spheres.

“Hendon’s not here, I see.” Lord Marchmont sent a glance around the table, as if the recently returned Lord Hendon might have slipped in unnoticed. “Thought he would be.”

“We sent a card, but his lordship had a prior engagement.” Spencer nodded to Jenkins; the first course was promptly served, footmen ferrying dishes from the kitchen.

Pondering a dish of crab in oyster sauce, Kit realized it was rather odd of Lord Hendon to have a prior engagement. With whom, when all the surrounding families were here?

“Pity,” Spencer continued. “Haven’t met the fellow yet.”

“I have,” replied Lord Marchmont, helping himself to the turbot.

“Oh?” said Spencer. All paused to hear his lordship’s response.

Lord Marchmont nodded. “Seems a solid sort. Jake’s boy, after all.”

Jake Hendon had been the previous lord of Castle Hendon. Kit’s memory supplied a hazy figure, broad, powerful, and extremely tall with a pair of twinkling grey eyes. He’d taken her for a ride on his stallion when she’d been eight years old. She couldn’t recall having met his son.

“What’s this I hear about Hendon’s appointment as High Commissioner?” Sir Harvey glanced at his lordship. “Another attempt to stamp out the traffic?”

“So it appears.” Lord Marchmont looked up. “But he’s Jake’s boy—he’ll know how to pace his success.”

All the men nodded, comfortable with that assessment. Smuggling was in the Norfolk blood; control was one thing, suppression unthinkable. Where else would they get their brandy?

Lady Gresham looked pointedly at Lady Marchmont. “Amelia, have you met this paragon?”

Lady Marchmont nodded. “Indeed. A most pleasant gentleman.”

“Good. What’s he like?”

Amy and Kit exchanged glances, then rapidly looked down at their plates. While the men ignored the very feminine question, the ladies fastened their attention on Lady Marchmont.

“He’s tall, just like his father. And he’s got the same odd hair—you remember, Martha. I believe he’s been in both the army and the navy, but that might not be right. It doesn’t sound normal, does it?”

Lady Gresham frowned. “Amelia, stop beating about the bush. How much like his father is he?”

Lady Marchmont chuckled. “Oh, that!” She waved dismissively. “He’s as handsome as sin, but then, all the Hendons are.”

“Too true,” agreed Mrs. Cartwright. “And they can charm the birds from the trees.”

“That, too.” Her ladyship nodded. “A silver-tongued devil, he is.”

Lady Dersingham sighed. “So pleasant, to know there’s a personable gentleman about one has yet to meet. Heightens the anticipation.”

There were nods of agreement all around.

“He’s not married, is he?” asked Lady Lechfield.

Lady Marchmont shook her head. “Oh, no. You may be sure I asked. He’s only recently returned from active service abroad. He still carries a wound—a limp in his left leg. He said he expected to be very much caught up in executing his commission as well as taking up Jake’s reins.”