Page 22 of An Engagement with the Enemy

As Jessica asked for the dishes nearest them, she caught Lady Londonderry watching her closely. The woman's gaze seemed kind yet searching. It seemed the marchioness was as interested in her brother-in-law’s prospects as she was her sister-in-law’s possible match with James.

Why were they surrounded by people determined to make matches?

Jessica looked away, unsettled.

Throughout the meal, Lord Frederick attempted to engage Jessica in conversation. To his credit, he seemed content to speak on subjects that she showed an interest in.

“Miss Westcote, you must let me know your favorite way to pass the time. Especially when in the country, of course. What passions or interests inspire you?”

She delicately speared a carrot on her fork as she answered, “Riding brings me much happiness, my lord. As do books and music. Simple pleasures, really.”

“Riding? How marvelous. That is one of my favorite pastimes as well. I could spend an entire day in the saddle and think it a good use of time.” His smile appeared at last, wide and genuine. A pang of unease hit Jessica. She hadn’t wanted to actually stimulate the conversation. “There are some splendid trails on my family’s estate. Perhaps we could go riding while my family is here. You could show me your favorite paths. I’m quite an accomplished equestrian myself.”

This wasn’t good at all. She didn’t want more time with the man. She glanced at James to see him busy in his conversation with Lady Isabelle. He wouldn’t be of much help yet. “I would be delighted to ride with you and your sister, Lord Frederick.” An idea hit upon her, and she put her hand to her heart, lowering her voice as she said, “Though I am no expert rider. Merely someone who finds the freedom and solitude in the countryside rejuvenating.”

For a moment, disappointment flashed in his eyes. Yet he gave her a cheerful enough smile in return. “Skill is sometimes less important than enjoyment, Miss Westcote. Perhaps I might even offer you some advice. I enjoy sharing my knowledge of horsemanship. We shall have you jumping hedgerows in no time.”

She had been jumping hedgerows since her fourteenth birthday. But no use in letting him know that, given his obvious enjoyment of the sport. She feigned a polite laugh. “I cannot imagine a novice rider’s skill growing in so short a time.”

He lowered his gaze to his plate, wincing. “You must think me rather presumptuous, Miss Westcote. I assure you that was not my intent. Though I hope we will have an opportunity to ride together.” He cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should discuss reading. You did say that was one of your preferred activities. Have you read any of the latest novels? Personally, I find Walter Scott quite diverting.”

Had she not been glancing at James in that moment, she would have missed the way his attention turned toward them, his eyebrows raised. He made brief eye contact with her, then quickly turned his attention back to Lady Isabelle. Strange.

“I’ve read some of Walter Scott’s works.” She had enjoyed them, too. But his obvious enthusiasm made it impossible to say as much.

Lord Frederick’s eyes lit up. “Rob Roy is a personal favorite of mine. I have read it twice through. Scott’s characters are vividly drawn.”

Jessica’s lips curved into a small smile. James had devoured that book. Twice, if she wasn’t mistaken. And she’d debated the story with him merrily for weeks. But she couldn’t let Lord Frederick know that. “The characters are well represented, indeed. Though I found the plot wandered at times.”

A faint line appeared between Lord Frederick’s brows. “Wandered? But the tale of Rob Roy’s adventures, defying the London authorities—”

Jessica interrupted, softly but firmly. “The adventures themselves were riveting. However, Scott allowed several unrelated subplots to distract from the central story.”

A flash of annoyance crossed Lord Frederick’s face, though he tried to hide it with a chuckle. “I suppose a woman may find the political machinations of the story less engaging.”

Heat rose in Jessica’s cheeks at the subtle condescension in his words. At last, a clear reason to dislike the man seated next to her. Though her experience in the world couldn’t be called vast, her father had been her tutor on the subject of politics. She leaned forward.

“On the contrary, my lord, the political elements themselves were trite and one-dimensional. Scott focused on surface issues over meaningful commentary on matters that could have led his readers to think differently about their own closely-held political affiliations.”

Lord Frederick opened his mouth, but no retort came. After a moment he gave a strained smile. “You have given me much to consider, Miss Westcote. Scott is surely a master with words, yet perhaps no author is above reproach.”

Jessica inclined her head, satisfied. “We must appreciate popular authors with a critical eye, my lord, lest we be slave to fashion over reason.” It was a load of rot, and she hated saying it. Jessica could analyze a work of literature critically, of course, and she regularly debated such things as theme and social commentary with James and Catherine. But in her heart, she believed a story that made someone feel things, like joy or sorrow, was every bit as important as the highest forms of literature.

Stories were meant to be enjoyed, savored, and lived again and again in the heart and mind. Not examined and pinned to a wall like a moth in an entomologist’s collection.

The lordling nodded slowly, though she caught a slight narrowing of his eyes as he studied her. “You are wiser than I on this subject, it seems. I appreciate the enlightening conversation.”

Jessica smiled. “As do I, Lord Frederick.”

They spoke of less important matters and when dinner ended the ladies withdrew to the baroness’s favored sitting room. A pianoforte held a place of honor along the center of one wall, and Lady Isabelle went there with a lightness in her step. The baroness and Lady Londonderry settled on a couch to converse in hushed tones, while Catherine sidled up to Jessica near the window.

“Your father is a delightful dinner companion,” she said with true warmth in her voice. “I thought it would be a dreadfully dull evening, seated between him and the marquess, but they proved solicitous all evening. How did you enjoy your conversation with Lord Frederick? It seemed every time I glanced over, the two of you were engaged in a serious conversation.”

“Serious?” Jessica shook her head. “Not at all. I think I contradicted him at every turn.” At least, that was what she had attempted to do. “Your mother will be most distressed if she ever learns of what a poor showing I made.”

“Doubtful. Mother couldn’t ever be distressed or disappointed with anything you do,” Catherine pointed out, tapping Jessica’s arm with her fan. “She sees you as another daughter.”

Lady Isabelle finished a short piece, and the other ladies in the room politely applauded while the baroness praised the woman’s talents.