6. Isla
Isla
Celie tasted her collops and agreed with Jonto’s assessment. “Georgie does make the most spectacular beef collops in the kingdom.”
“As though you’ve been all over the kingdom, tasting various offerings and comparing them to what Georgie prepares here.” There was a teasing glint in Isla’s eyes as she watched her friend so obviously enjoying her meal.
Celie looked this way and that, and before taking another bite, she leaned in.
“Don’t look now, but it appears that several of the ladies are holding it against you that you monopolized Lord Jontoreaux’s time.
It’s been quite a while since I’ve seen so many pouty faces glaring at you. I find I’ve rather missed them.”
Isla was amused despite herself. More and more, she realized exactly how many traits Celie shared with her mother, perhaps not in the more audacious, overt ways but in her more subtle, sardonic quips and cheerful, good humor.
Celie had a gift of finding humor in almost every situation and could jolly Isla out of her moods with a simple raised brow and wry quirk of her lips.
Isla’s brows descended in concern as she saw the barest flicker of pain behind those beautiful gray eyes. Celie quickly masked the feelings, but not before Isla noticed them, set her fork on her plate and covered her friend’s hand with her own. “Celie, what’s wrong?”
Celie swallowed back some tears and dabbed at her eyes with a cloth napkin.
“Sometimes I miss your mother so much I can barely stand it. It’s been nearly ten years, and still, there are times when waves of grief wash over me.
There’s never been another like her.” She managed to smile.
“I’ll be fine. I think Lord Jontoreaux must have reminded me of her in some ways.
Daring and dashing, and just waiting for a chance to laugh at something that amuses him.
” Her smile widened. “I think your Mamá would have made a wonderful, sea-faring explorer, don’t you? ”
Isla laughed at that. “Honestly, I’m surprised she wasn’t.
Of course, she would have abhorred the violence I’m sure they often experience, but all in all, she would have been quite content.
” She’d been playing with her napkin and glanced up to see Celie watching her.
“Do you think she resented having to stay and watch over me?”
Celie’s eyes took on a fierce look. “Not in the least. She considered you her crowning glory, the one thing she did right in this world. Do you honestly think that if there were something she wanted to do, she wouldn’t have gone off and done it?
She loved being with you and wouldn’t have given that up for anything.
If there’s one truth I know with certainty, it’s that. ”
Isla listened. She wanted to believe that her mother, who was so young when she’d died, hadn’t wasted her life raising a daughter instead of going on adventures.
“I know what you mean about missing her. Sometimes, I wake up in the morning thinking of all manner of things I want to tell her, but then it hits me that she’s gone.
You’d think ten years would be long enough to get over missing someone, but maybe she was such a presence in our lives that with her gone, there’s an emptiness we’re struggling to fill.
It was as though the world dimmed, just a bit, with her death. ”
Celie chuckled, “Well, that got grim pretty quickly. But I know what you mean, and sometimes, I think her spirit is still here, tweaking our noses and telling us to enjoy life. Like I’m enjoying this plate of collops.”
They chatted about the Admiral moving in next door and about James arranging for a party at Isla’s home without telling her. Celie promised to help with all the arrangements, and before long, Isla settled the bill, and the two women parted with a heartfelt hug.
As she strolled back through town, Isla overheard bits and pieces of conversations where the Admiral and his man were the primary topics. Snippets of ‘so handsome’ and ‘an aristocrat’ were mixed with ‘pirates’ and ‘man of war.’
Deciding not to go across the fields, she walked along the road on her return trip to Windsong Hall, the name her grandmother had given the estates she’d inherited from Isla’s great-grandfather. She kept up a good pace, wanting to get home to check on one of the mares due to foal any day.
“Beggin’ yer pardon, Milady.”
Isla had heard the rattles of a wagon’s wheels coming up behind her and assumed she was far enough to the side of the road to allow it to pass.
She glanced over her shoulder and saw four horses pulling an extra-wide buckboard laden with furniture.
Valuable pieces, judging from what she could see from her angle.
She stepped out of the way to let it pass.
Behind it, a second wagon carried at least ten round-topped chests, and still a third, unbelievably, had an elegant, black lacquered piano encased in padded wood and rope.
Besides the burly driver, whom she recognized from the feedstore, three men rode with the piano, carefully ensuring it wasn’t jostled too badly by the movement of the horses.
They wore the typical sailor’s knee-length breeches, loose-fitting long-sleeved linen shirts, and knitted wool caps.
She watched them warily as they went by, expecting lewd remarks, whistles, or any number of disgusting behaviors pirates might do to degrade a woman alone on a country lane.
Instead, each man pulled off his cap and bowed the best they could as the wagon passed.
One man, a pockmarked ruffian with wild, curly hair and skin bronzed from overexposure to the sun, called out. “There’ll be more wagons, Milady. Ya might keep to th’ side if’n it’s not too much trooble fer ya.”
Taken aback by how polite the men were, Isla automatically responded in kind. “Thank you. I will.”
“Aye.” The three slipped their caps back on, and soon, the wagon rolled out of sight.
Sure enough, as soon as she’d started on her way again, the jangling and clinking of a harness accompanied by the rhythmic clopping sound of horses’ hooves came up behind her.
The loud clattering of a wagon’s wheels had her moving to the side, and she turned to see another set of three wagons coming her way.
This group, however, was accompanied by Admiral Jontoreaux riding a muscular grey gelding Isla had sold at auction to an absentee bidder a month earlier.
Had she known the bidder was a pirate, no, not simply a pirate, but the pirate who’d stolen her land out from under her, she never would have sold him one of her bloodstock.
Jonto pulled the gelding to a halt, plucked his leather tri-corn hat from his head, and held it to his chest. “Lady Brighton. I didn’t expect to see a lady walking alone on a country road. Is everything all right?”
Insulted that he would intimate something was wrong simply because she preferred walking home to hiring a carriage to convey her, Isla pursed her lips and glared up at the man. “I enjoy walking from the city to Windsong Hall, Lord Jontoreaux. Do you have a problem with that?”
“Not at all. And traditionally, once we’ve been properly introduced, I’m known as Lord Jonto.
Simply Jonto to my friends.” As the wagons moved on, Jonto’s horse jigged sideways, anxious not to be left behind.
He put a hand on the gelding’s neck to calm him, which didn’t do the slightest bit of good.
Isla had to admit the man had a good seat, at least, but she couldn’t stand by and watch the gelding misbehave. “I had no idea my culls would be going to a hoard of pirates. May I assume you were the silent bidder for all twelve?”
“I was.”
“Had I known, I assure you, I would have pulled them from the auction.” Irritated now that he hadn’t brought the gelding under control, she added, “They’re trained to leg cues that I’m sure you’re not familiar with.
Move your right heel forward, which should stop him sliding to the right to get out from under you.
He wants to follow his herd, but you can’t let him dictate your course of action. ”
The gelding stilled, and Isla could only assume her instructions had been heeded. The pirate captain cocked his head, and did Isla hear a touch of irritation in his voice when he asked, “You would have withdrawn them?”
“Lord Jontoreaux.” She intended to make it perfectly clear by using his full name that they were in no way ‘friends.’ “You should know that while my uncle is pleased that you’re moving into Broadmond House?—”
“Kraken’s Rest.” At her blank look, he explained, “I’ve renamed the estate to Kraken’s Rest.”
Her nostrils flared. “I’m not used to being interrupted, Lord Jontoreaux. As I was saying, as my uncle is pleased that you’re moving into the estate next to mine, I am not. While I intend to be civil in passing?—”
“Too late for that.” Jonto placed his hat back on his head. “Good day, Lady Brighton.” He kicked his horse into a gallop and rode after his wagons.
She stared after him with her temper rising.
How dare he ride off without allowing her to finish what she wanted to say?
What about him made all of her good breeding and manners fly out the window?
Angry at herself now for allowing her temper to rise to the fore, she told herself in no uncertain terms that she’d keep any further conversation polite and to the point.
With that decided, she picked up her pace and headed toward home.