had been dressed in a different style—a very becoming one with wispy curls framing her face. A pale green gown showed her slender figure to advantage and made her look the embodiment of springtime, which was so keenly anticipated in the colony.
Lewis Brenton made no effort to conceal his admiration as he swept her a very deep bow. “The honor is ours, Lady Jocelyn.”
His words flustered her in a way the gentlemen’s stares had not. A flush mantled her cheeks and though the corners of her lips still curved upward, all the sparkle went out of her smile. “If you would be so kind, sir, I prefer to be addressed as ‘Mrs. Finch,’ in honor of my late husband.”
Sir Robert was familiar enough with forms of address to know that the daughter of a marquess could continue to be called “Lady” even after she had married beneath her. He wondered what lay behind Jocelyn Finch’s insistence on dispensing with her title. For the first time since learning of her lofty connections, it occurred to him to wonder what a noble-woman was doing chaperoning a shipload of emigrant girls.
Her remark seemed to dumbfound the rest of the party for a moment. Sir Robert rushed to fill the awkward lull with the first words that came to mind. “Of course we shall call you by whatever name you wish, Mrs. Finch.”
It was not a witty remark but, like him, blunt and to the point. Still, it served well enough. The tension in the room relaxed and in Mrs. Finch’s eyes he detected a flicker of gratitude.
It prompted him to continue. “Since these gentlemen have expressed some interest in our…disagreement, I thought they might care to observe its resolution.”
He wanted them all on hand to see him win, fair and square, and to bear witness that Mrs. Finch had willingly accepted his terms.
Barnabas Power seemed more interested in eyeing the lady as if she were a prize mare on which he planned to bid. “We’ve come to cheer you on, ma’am.”
She rewarded him and the others with a glowing smile that made Sir Robert smart with resentment. “How very kind of you, when you all must have so much more important business to occupy your time. I am flattered by your attention.”
They were equally flattered by her, the governor had no doubt of it. Did they not see the skill with which she was playing them? If the lady was half as proficient at chess, she might give him more of a challenge than he’d bargained for.
“Your point is well taken, Mrs. Finch. We are all busy people and this matter has already occupied more of our time than it merits.” Sir Robert gestured toward the chessboard. “Shall we begin without further ado?”
She cast him a venomous glance. Then, with the graceful but determined gait, she approached the chess table and took the chair at the “white” end of the board. “I hope you will not begrudge me the small advantage of first move, Your Excellency.”
It was clear she considered him anything but excellent.
“Indeed not.” He sank onto the chair opposite her, pleased to be playing his accustomed black. “I would insist upon it.”
“Enjoy your game.” Mrs. Carmont pulled off her gloves. “I could do with a cup of tea. May I pour for anyone else?”
While the spectators swarmed to the tea table to refill their cups, Mrs. Finch picked up the white king’s pawn and advanced it two squares. Sir Robert nodded his approval of this sound opening. He countered by moving his king’s pawn forward to block hers.
She surprised him by slipping her queen out on the diagonal. After a moment’s consideration, he moved out his queen’s knight. Mrs. Finch stared at the board with grim concentration then picked up her bishop and shifted it several spaces forward.
Teacups in hand, Sir Robert’s guests clustered around the table, watching the match. The bishop greeted Mrs. Finch’s move with a murmur of approval. No doubt he could see how her aggressive play threatened a checkmate.
Or would have against a novice opponent. Sir Robert nudged his knight pawn forward to endanger her queen. While she studied the board, her brow furrowed and her pretty mouth compressed in a tight line, he got up and helped himself to tea. When he turned his attention back to the board, he found she had moved her queen to bishop three, still threatening the mate. He advanced his knight to a square defended by his queen. Mrs. Finch’s little sortie had failed. He would put her on the defensive now.
She stared at the board for so long Sir Robert wondered if she ever meant to move. He beckoned his aide and whispered, “Go to my office and fetch me some papers, like a good fellow.”
Duckworth hurried away, returning with the requested documents before Mrs. Finch reached for her knight. After a little dithering, she placed it upon the king-two square.
Then she turned to Mrs. Carmont. “I could do with a cup of tea, if you please, Sally. Plenty of cream and sugar.”
She had barely spoken before Sir Robert pushed his bishop forward. That done, he picked up one of his papers and began to read. If the woman was going to take an eternity making up her mind over every move, he could use the time to catch up on some of his work. Work she had interrupted and distracted him from.
The rest of the party seemed impatient with her slow play, too. After watching the opening moves of the game with interest, they withdrew in small groups to various parts of the room, talking quietly together.
Mrs. Finch paid them no heed, except to look a trifle relieved to be free of their scrutiny. She sipped the tea Mrs. Carmont had poured for her while examining the chessboard with a puzzled look. Perhaps she was wondering if his bishop posed any threat to her, never guessing he had simply moved the piece to get it out of the way.
Sir Robert read over the land grant petition in his hand. It seemed to be in order. The petitioner was a Scot recently mustered out from one of the Highland regiments that had served with distinction at Waterloo. He was thirty-two years of age and unmarried. That information reminded Sir Robert of what Mr. Power had said that morning about men being more productive citizens when they had families to support. He could not help wondering if one of the young ladies from the bride ship might make a suitable wife for a new settler like this one.
The soft but insistent sound of Mrs. Finch clearing her throat drew his attention back to the chessboard. “I have made my move, sir. It is now your turn.”
“Of course.” He glanced at the board and saw she had brought her queen’s knight forward.
Sir Robert quickly replied with his queen’s pawn. Then he returned to his work, instructing Duckworth to check that the requested land did not encroach upon Crown forest reserves before issuing the grant. The next petition had come from a widower with three young children. A new wife would be a necessity for that poor fellow, not a distraction.
“Is there some difficulty, Sir Robert?” asked Mrs. Finch in a tone of genuine concern.
“No, indeed.” He looked up from the paper. “Is it my turn again?”
She nodded.
Sir Robert scanned the board, then moved his bishop to threaten her queen. Enough conservative play, waiting for her to make a mistake he could exploit. He wanted the matter settled and Mrs. Finch gone before he was bothered by any more second thoughts.
Only after he had made his move did Sir Robert recognize the weakness of his position. He hoped
