people held about Papa. The old servant had extolled Papa’s generosity and kindness, calling him a saint. Yet across the table from Marianne, Robert practically reclined in his chair, his usual protest against Papa’s nightly berating. Beside him sat Jamie, in the place where the ranking son should sit, his admiration of Papa obvious in his genial nods and agreeable words to everything Papa said. Doubtless Jamie had no idea that Robert should be sitting to Papa’s left. Of course Mama, as always, gazed down the length of the table at Papa with the purest devotion, a sentiment Marianne felt as deeply as a daughter could while still seeing his flaws.
Tonight the topic was the Americans and their foolish rebellion against His Majesty. Some anonymous colonist had written a pamphlet entitled “Common Sense,” which was causing considerable stir in London, and Papa seemed unable to contain his outrage.
“Common nonsense,” he huffed as he stabbed a forkful of fish and devoured it. “What do these colonists understand about the responsibilities of government?”
While he fussed between bites about His Majesty’s God-given duties to rule, and the Americans as recalcitrant children, Marianne glanced directly across the table at Jamie, whose thoughtful frown conveyed his sympathies for Papa’s remarks. Eager to turn the conversation to more pleasant topics, Marianne patted her father’s arm.
“But, dearest, if these colonies are so much trouble, why does His Majesty not simply break with them?”
From the corner of her eye, Marianne could see Jamie’s own eyes widen for an instant, but she turned her full attention to Papa. He returned a touch to her arm, along with a paternal smile.
“Ah, my dear, such innocence. You had best leave governing to the Crown and Parliament.”
Any other time, this response might have soothed Marianne. But for some odd reason, irritation scratched at her mind. She was not a child who should have no opinions, nor should she fail to seek information to enlighten her judgments. She knew of some ladies who expressed their political opinions without censure, including Mama’s acquaintance, the duchess of Devonshire.
“I agree with Marianne.” Robert’s voice lacked its usual indolence, a sign that he had not yet succumbed to his wine. “Let the colonies fend for themselves for a while without the Crown’s protection. Then when they’re attacked and plundered by every greedy country on the Continent, they’ll come crawling back under His Majesty’s rule.”
Marianne sensed the bitterness in his wily wording. His break with Papa had lasted less than three weeks before he came “crawling back.”
Papa regarded Robert for an instant, then dismissed his words with a snort and a wave of his hand. “Templeton, what do you think of this rebellion?”
While her heart ached for her brother, Marianne could now study Jamie’s well-formed face without fear of who might notice her staring at him. A sun-kissed curl had escaped from his queue and draped near his high, well-tanned left cheekbone. His straight nose bore a pale, jagged scar down one side that added character rather than disfigurement. She wondered what adventure had marked him thus, and would ask him at the first opportunity.
“I find it a great annoyance, milord.” Jamie’s brown eyes burned with indignation. “East Florida is prospering and should soon prove to be the most profitable of England’s American colonies. But shipping goods back and forth from London has become difficult since King George declared the wayward thirteen colonies to be in open rebellion. I cannot sail five hundred leagues without one of His Majesty’s men-of-war stopping me to be sure I have no contraband.”
“Hmm.” Papa leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chin. “Have my flag and my letter of passage been helpful?”
“Yes, sir. They have saved me more times than I can count. But every time I am forced to heave to—no less than four times on this last voyage—especially when I’m ordered to change my course for whatever reason the captain might have, it delays shipments. This isn’t a problem when I carry nonperishable goods. But our orange and lemon cargos can spoil if not delivered in a timely fashion.” Jamie bent his head toward the fragrant bowl of fruit gracing the table. “We barely managed to reach London with these still edible.”
As he spoke, Papa’s smile broadened. “That’s what I like about you, Templeton. No interest in politics. Just business. If those thirteen guilty colonies were of the same mind, there would be no rebellion.”
Marianne enjoyed the modest smile Jamie returned to Papa, but Jamie did not look at her. While the two men continued to talk, she cast about for some way to gain his attention. When the perfect scheme came to mind, she knew the Lord was continuing to lead her.
“Papa, may we discuss something other than business and the war?”
His wiry white eyebrows arched in surprise. “Forgive me, my dear. I believe your mother is of the same mind.” He bowed his head toward Mama, who had sent more than one disapproving frown his way during the meal. “What would you like to discuss?”
“Why, I wonder if you recall that Mama and I plan to visit St. Ann’s Orphan Asylum for Girls tomorrow.” She could not keep her gaze from straying to Jamie, who seemed to be particularly interested in the aromatic roast beef the footman had just set before him. “Would you like to make a small contribution to our efforts?”
“Of course, my dear. I shall see to it before I leave for Parliament tomorrow.” He cut into the meat before him, but paused with a bite halfway to his lips. “Why do you not take Templeton with you? I’m certain he would enjoy seeing more of London, and I would feel more at ease if you had the protection of his presence.”
Jamie coughed and grabbed his water goblet, swallowing with a gulp. Marianne did not know whether to laugh or offer sympathy. But as long as her plan worked…
“I say, Merry.” Robert sat up and leaned across his plate, his cravat nearly touching the sauce on his meat. “My tailor is coming tomorrow to fit Templeton’s new wardrobe. You know how petulant these Dutch tailors can be if one misses an appointment, which, I might add, I had a deuce of a time arranging so quickly. Can you not take Blevins or a footman or someone else on your little excursion?”
“It is not an excursion, brother dear. It is ministry.” Marianne knew she must continue talking before Papa began to berate Robert, for she could hear Papa’s warning growl that always preceded such scolding. “In fact, I do believe you would enjoy it, too. Why not join us? I am certain Mama will not mind waiting until Captain Templeton has been measured. All of us could go.” For the life of her—and even to save Robert’s dignity—she could not think of another thing to say.
“Just the thing, Moberly.” Jamie appeared to be taking up the cause, and Marianne’s heart lilted over his kindness. “Let’s accompany the ladies. I still don’t have my land legs, so the walking’ll do me good.”
Robert’s eyes shifted in confusion, and he blinked several times before his gaze steadied. “Rather, my good man. A splendid plan.” His grin convinced Marianne he knew they had saved him. But now mischief played across his face in a lopsided smirk. “Shall we not ride, then? You did agree to riding, you know.”
Marianne saw the dread in Jamie’s faint grimace. One day she herself would see to his riding lessons, for her brother would be merciless in the task. “But, Robert,” she said, “you know Mama and I must take our carriage, for we have many items to carry.”
“No doubt too many items to leave room for Templeton and me.” Robert nudged Jamie. “Do you not agree?”
