Chapter Eight
J oanna was all atwitter during dinner, a meal spent gazing vapidly at Lord Wisbech, wondering if she could persuade Thomas to relent with his custom of seating everyone according to precedent for the rest of the party so she could perhaps enjoy dinner with a more interesting partner—like Mr. Dandridge. She’d not seen him since the gentlemen returned from shooting that afternoon and Honoria had kept her engaged in conversation before they went in to dinner, so she’d not had a chance to ask Mr. Dandridge how he’d fared in the afternoon’s shooting. She’d wager every penny in her purse he’d done exceedingly well. The man simply exuded confidence.
Thomas had remained aloof in the brief moments they’d spoken before Honoria had monopolized her attention. Had that been on purpose to keep Joanna from asking about the shooting lesson tomorrow? Well, if so, it would only last as long as it took the gentlemen to dispense with their brandy. As soon as they joined the ladies, Joanna meant to corner Thomas and demand his answer. And if she didn’t like it, she’d devil him until he changed his mind. Never had she been so excited about an activity she normally found dreary and boring to tears.
The courses ground on and on. Joanna scarcely knew what food she put in her mouth. All she could do was count the interminable minutes until Honoria would rise and release them. Of course, it might be another half an hour before her curiosity would be satisfied, but better talking to someone like Miss Bevins, who at least had a brain in her head, rather than Lord Wisbech who could speak of nothing save his cattle and his numbers today.
“Lucky shot, that. Have to admit I’d never have believed one of those birds would dodge into another one just as I shot. Bagged two with one ball.” He grinned at her, looking like nothing so much as the village idiot. “Luckiest shot I ever took, Lady Joanna.”
“Not so lucky for the birds though.” Joanna tried to keep her voice low so Lord Wisbech couldn’t hear her, but he twisted his head toward her sharply.
“I doubt anyone at the table would care for the sensibilities of the birds, my lady.”
“Perhaps they should.” Joanna was treading on thin ice and knew it. Shooting was all but sacred to her friend and the Glorious Twelfth was considered the next thing to a religious holiday here in Scotland.
“What an odd thing to say, my lady.” Lord Wisbech frowned at her, staring as though he’d discovered some new species of insect he was deciding whether to stick a pin in or step on. “The only thing shooters are mindful of are their numbers, as well they should be. They have to keep the numbers up so as not to embarrass the host.”
“Were you able to acquit yourself well, then my lord?” Not that Joanna was interested in how many birds the man had shot, but anything to relieve the silence would be welcome.
“That I was, my lady.” The viscount beamed so wide, his mouth was in danger of splitting at the corners. “In total, I shot right around twenty-five, I think.” His lordship was obviously pleased with himself. His face was flushed, his eyes bright as he continued to talk about all the unsuspecting birds he’d murdered without a second thought. “My personal best is just thirty. Grand shoot that was, in Hampshire two, no three years ago.” Lord Wisbech continued to smile and stare pointedly toward her. “This one, however, is turning out to be every bit as enchanting.”
Oh, good grief. Lord Wisbech was the last man whose suit she wanted to encourage. She must do something quickly to discourage him. “I fear I dislike these shooting parties, even though I have attended them all my life.” She sighed as though her heart was as heavy as stone. “My brother is best friends with Lord Braeton, you know of course, so we have come to the lodge for him to shoot ever since I can remember. Perhaps that is why I abhor it so much.” Joanna pulled a long face. “I was telling Lady Braeton just before the party arrived that this might be my last sojourn to Scotland for the shooting as I am determined to marry a man who does not enjoy such blood sports.”
The viscount stopped dead, his wine glass hovering suspended before his mouth, his eyes widening. “Lady Joanna…surely you jest.” He put the glass down untasted. “Every Englishman who’s worth his salt shoots. So where you will find a true gentleman who does not, I quite have no idea.”
“I know it will be a difficult task, my lord, however my mind is made up.” Biting her cheek to keep from laughing, Joanna affected a soulful stare at the man. “The man I marry must eschew guns or at least shooting birds, or I’ll not have him.”
“Does your brother know of this…peculiarity of yours?” The frown Lord Wisbech turned on her spoke volumes.
“I will be writing to him to inform him of my decision, although I am certain he will not forbid me this sensibility. My brother has always been so generous with regard to my deepest held feelings. He would not insist that I marry when my heart is not engaged. And it could not be so if the gentleman desires the sport more than he would me.”
A more disapproving stare Joanna had not seen since Geoffrey had caught her dancing with Mr. Dandridge.
“Well, then I think your brother most foolhardy, my lady. You are young and do not understand the deeply held traditions of the English nobility.” Lord Wisbech turned his disapproving face away from her and tossed the rest of his wine down his throat. “He may find his indulgence has decreed you to life as a spinster.”
“Yes, I believe you may be correct, my lord.” Joanna sipped her wine, her gaze straying across the table to find Mr. Dandridge’s eyes on her. “But I think life as a spinster would be more palatable than marriage to a man who commits bird murder every August twelfth.”
As though he’d read her lips, Mr. Dandridge let out a snort of laughter, quickly turning to his dinner partner as though it was her remark that had set him to laughing.
Oh, yes. Thomas must allow her to partner Mr. Dandridge at dinner at least one night. That conversation would certainly be the best she’d ever encounter. Not like this false discussion with Lord Wisbech. Fortunately, at that moment, Honoria gave the signal for them to turn, and Joanna could begin a normal conversation with her partner to her left. Sir Henry wasn’t a brilliant conversationalist, but compared to Lord Wisbech, he rivaled Shakespeare for wit and wisdom. Before she knew it, Honoria was standing, asking the ladies to go through.
Gratefully, Joanna filed out with the others and all but ran to the drawing room, shaking the desultory dialogues out of her head with a good cup of strong tea and took up a post just inside the drawing room to lie in wait for Thomas. Time dragged on and Joanna had to seek a second cup before the door opened, ushering in the gentlemen.
Thomas wasn’t among the first to enter, and Joanna frowned, scanning the incoming throng while trying to avoid looking any of the other gentlemen in the eye, lest they take that as an invitation to speak to her. At last, bringing up the rear in deep conversation were Thomas and Mr. Dandridge. That pairing gave Joanna pause. What topic were they so engrossed in that they passed right by her without a glance? No, now Mr. Dandridge had turned his head toward her and gave her a scarcely perceptible nod.
Joanna blinked and stood still. What did that mean? It might be no more than a simple acknowledgment of her presence, but did it mean more? Had their lesson for the morrow been given approval? With hesitant steps, Joanna trailed behind them, cocking her head to try and catch some of their conversation.
“Not as extensive as I would like it to be, but I’m pleased with what I’ve managed to acquire.” Mr. Dandridge accepted a cup of tea and dropped in a single lump of sugar. “Do you keep a full stable here as well as at your home estate? Or do you bring them with you when you travel north?”
They were talking about horses. Joanna’s hopes sank. Apparently they’d not been speaking of the shooting lesson at all. Then she’d simply have to wait and listen for the best moment to jump in and broach the subject with Thomas.
“Some I keep here year-round, for the staff’s use for errands of course. Most, however travel with us. I have my own stallion who comes with me. And I now keep a mount for my wife here and at home. She seldom rides these days, since the children began arriving. So I have at least one mare here she can ride if she desires. Lady Joanna has her gelding, Jupiter from whom she will not be parted.” Thomas looked over squarely at her. “She’s ridden only him for years so he must journey with her everywhere she goes.”
“I quite understand an attachment to a good mount.” Mr. Dandridge smiled, his gaze cutting over to her as well. “My chestnut stallion Lucky is the first horse I ever bought. I won’t go anywhere without him either.”
“Your horse’s name is Lucky, Mr. Dandridge?” She must take whatever means she could to enter the conversation and then find a way to turn it toward the shooting lesson tomorrow. “Has he brought you luck?”
“Some might say so, my lady. I acquired him with my first winnings at the faro table.” He grinned. “I was lucky to escape that gaming hell with my life, much less my winnings.”
Joanna’s eyes widened. She’d heard Geoffrey speak of the dangers of the gambling dens that populated London like weeds. “You were in actual fear for your life, sir?”
Mr. Dandridge shrugged. “Perhaps. I was young and daring, so it was more of a lark than anything else. But it gave me confidence that I had a head for cards. I bought the horse and named him Luck of the Draw, Lucky for short.”
“And he’s with you now?” Joanna looked at him expectantly.
“He is. I rode him part of the way here so I would have a mount to ride about the country if the opportunity arose.” Sipping his tea, Mr. Dandridge turned toward Thomas. “I suspect there are many excellent prospects on your estate, Lord Braeton. I hope I may take Lucky out to explore them some mornings while I am here.”
“I have no objection whatsoever, Dandridge. You are welcome to take a groom with you to show you the best places.” Thomas set his tea down untasted. “I’d join you myself if you wish to get up a party for a ride one morning.”
“Or I could escort Mr. Dandridge, Thomas.” Joanna was fairly bouncing on her toes with excitement. This would be an excellent opportunity to get Mr. Dandridge all to herself. “I know every rock, stream, and stalk of heather on the property.” She beamed up at the gentleman. “I assure you, sir, I will make an excellent guide.”
Mr. Dandridge cut his gaze toward his host. “That is extraordinarily kind of you to offer, Lady Joanna, but I would not dream of taking you away—”
“From my needlework, sir?” Joanna cut in. “That will not be an imposition whatsoever. I’ve done enough white work this summer to last me a lifetime.” She turned to Thomas, heart beating faster. “May I please ride with Mr. Dandridge, Thomas? I planned to ride out anyway, as soon as I could make arrangements so I can gather the heather.”
“Lady Joanna is an avid maker of sachets filled with heather, Mr. Dandridge.” Thomas sounded as though he just might be seriously considering her request. “Each year she strips my heather until the hills are denuded in order to assure herself of sweet-smelling garments all throughout the year.”
“That seems a very womanly pursuit, my lady.” Mr. Dandridge gave her a questioning stare. “I daresay it keeps you occupied when you are at home once more.”
“Yes, it does. Until I tire of the tedium of the task.” Joanna wrinkled her nose.” Then I abandon it to my mother and maid to finish sewing and completing the sachets.” She waited until she’d caught Mr. Dandridge’s eyes. “I much prefer gathering the heather than making the bags.”
“A necessary evil, my lady.” Mr. Dandridge chuckled. “You cannot simply scatter the heather through your linens else you’d look as though you’d been given a green gown.”
Joanna frowned. “A green gown? But I do have a green gown, sir, although it is at home in Middlesex.” When he bit his lips to stifle his laugher, she’d had enough. “Is there something funny about that?”
“Now see here, Dandridge.” Thomas’s face had gone dark with outrage. “You cannot bring such language within the hearing of a gently bred lady as Joanna.”
“I beg your pardon, my lord, my lady.” He bowed and attempted to look contrite, but Joanna would have bet the world he was not sorry one iota. “The lady’s very innocence keeps her from understanding my ill-spoken jest. But I am heartily sorry if I have offended either one of you.” He raised his brows at her. “Will you forgive me, Lady Joanna?”
“Of course I will.” But she’d certainly get him to explain the peculiar joke when they were alone. “And I can devise a penance for you as well, to make amends.” She looked triumphantly first at Mr. Dandridge, then at Thomas. “I shall take Mr. Dandridge with me tomorrow morning to gather the heather. And he will have to ride all the way back with the bags of heather laid across the back of his saddle.” Joanna grinned from ear to ear at her device.
“How will that be a punishment, my lady?” The gentleman cocked his head, truly puzzled.
“You will most likely return to the house with the scent of the heather clinging to you for some time to come, Mr. Dandridge.” She could have burst her buttons at her cleverness. “Befitting for you, is it not, Dandy?”
“I have not given permission yet, Joanna,” Thomas broke in, determined it seemed to put a damper on her high spirits.
“And we cannot go tomorrow morning in any case, my lady.” Mr. Dandridge gave her a sobering look.
“Oh.” She frowned, suddenly achingly disappointed. “Are you shooting again tomorrow?”
“Yes, my lady.” Mr. Dandridge kept his somber countenance for a few moments more, then transformed it into a grin. “With you.”
“What?” Flabbergasted, Joanna’s mouth dropped open as she stared first at Mr. Dandridge and then at Thomas. “You’ve given permission, Thomas?”
“Yes, and already beginning to regret it.” Thomas crossed his arms over his chest, glowering at them.
“Oh, Thomas, thank you.” Despite the crowd of people, she couldn’t restrain herself from throwing her arms around him and giving him a great embrace. “Thank you ever so much.”
“Perhaps if we comport ourselves well, my lady, at the end of the lesson Lord Braeton will agree to your ‘punishment’ for me for the following morning.” Mr. Dandridge kept his countenance even, but Joanna could sense his excitement nearly matched her own.
Beyond all her expectations, this dull trek to Scotland was proving much more exciting than she’d ever dreamed it could possibly be. And all because of Mr. Dandridge. She sighed. Pray God Geoffrey didn’t find out about it anytime soon.