9. Isla #4
Isla sat and watched as he left the room.
Two elegantly clad women, Tillie Masterson and Pris Fitzgerald, strolled over and lowered themselves into padded chairs, one to either side of their friend.
Pris, an elegant woman hovering around thirty years of age, put her elbow on the chair’s arm, leaned her head on her fingers, and grinned as would a spinster who knew a particularly salacious secret.
She was of average height and build but had been graced with a beauty that men and women of all social strata either admired or envied depending upon their personality and personal outlook on life.
“What?” Isla knew what, but she wasn’t about to admit it.
Pris lifted her shoulder in a casual shrug. “For someone who had no intention of inviting a nasty, vile pirate….” She looked to Tillie for confirmation. “That was how she referred to Lord Jontoreaux, was it not?”
Tillie, an energetic, bird-like woman with dancing brown eyes, bobbed her head up and down. “Most definitely. In fact, I believe those were her exact words.”
Returning her attention to Isla, Pris continued, “For someone who had no intention of inviting a nasty, vile pirate into your home, you certainly seem to be enjoying yourself in his arms. Or…was that you rejecting his vile advances?” She looked at Tillie again.
“Did that look like her rejecting his vile advances to you, Tillie?”
“No, it didn’t look like that at all.”
Isla glared back and forth between her friends. “You both know this evening was James’s doing. I may disagree with having a pirate in our midst, but I was raised to be a lady and to have impeccable manners, which means dancing with a man when they invite me to accompany them onto the dance floor.”
Both women laughed, and Pris shook her head.
“We both know your mother would have been delighted with you being a Bohemian or a billy, so don’t go telling us that you were raised to be a lady.
We’ve known you our entire lives, Isla, and if I had to put a name to it, I’d say you were swooning in that pirate’s arms.”
Isla sat up straighter in her chair. “I absolutely was not!”
Jonto reappeared with two glasses of Cognac. “If I’d known two such lovely ladies were joining us, I would have brought enough for all.” He handed Isla one of the glasses and offered the second to Pris. “Are you also a brandy drinker, My Lady?”
“No. But thank you, My Lord.”
Jonto turned to Tillie, who declined as well.
Isla introduced her companions. “Lord Jontoreaux, may I introduce you to my friends? These two ladies are Lady Priscilla Fitzgerald and Lady Tillie Masterson.”
Jonto kissed each woman’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both. Any friend of Lady Brighton’s is most certainly a friend of mine.” With a devilish look in his eye, Jonto added, “Now, may I ask what Lady Brighton absolutely was not doing?”
The withering look Isla gave both her friends said they’d be in big trouble if they answered the question honestly. No one spoke, and Jonto graciously let Isla off the hook. “Perhaps I should simply ask what each of you would like to drink and I’ll run get it for you.”
Pris and Tillie both stood, and Pris’s broad, mischievous smile lit the room. “No, thank you, My Lord. My husband is looking for me for the next dance. If you’ll excuse us?”
With a bow, Jonto said, “It was a pleasure meeting you both. And Lady Fitzgerald, while I briefly met your husband during my meeting with the King and his Counsel, I’d thoroughly enjoy speaking with him again. Perhaps later this evening?”
“I’ll let him know. He was hoping to have some time to speak with you about your ship.
He was an officer in the King’s Navy for many years.
” With shallow curtsies for Jonto and laughing glances back at their friend, the women made their way around the edge of the dance floor to where Lord Fitzgerald stood chatting with friends.
Once they’d gone, Jonto held up his glass. “To your good health, My Lady, and to what I hope will become a lasting friendship.”
Isla raised her glass. “To your good health.”
That she left off the final part of the toast wasn’t lost on Jonto.
He sipped his Cognac, obviously enjoying what Isla knew to be the smooth balance of spicy sweetness with just a hint of ginger.
He raised his glass to indicate its amber contents.
“One of the premier distilleries around, and this is no exception to the superb quality of spirits the House of Rémy Martin produces.”
After Isla sipped her drink, she indicated Celie with a lifted chin. “She’s a very special woman.”
“I came to that understanding the first time I met her. I rather enjoy a woman with a good-natured, teasing sense of humor. They’re rare and hard to come by these days.
” He sipped his drink as they watched the dancers, and when the orchestra brought the current waltz to a close, he set the brandy on a side table. “If you’ll excuse me.”
Not wanting to appear interested to all the harpies who were most assuredly watching their every interaction, Isla looked away as he made his way across the dance floor toward her friend.