“Mr. Shepherd? I thought we were discussingyourplaying cards?” Jemma replied evenly.
“I did not miss his interest in you the other night.” He ignored her question and pouted childishly.
“Don't be silly.” Afraid that her attraction had been evident, she shrugged carelessly. “He may have shown an interest in me, but I’m afraid if he did, I found him to be rather arrogant and crude. My only concern is that he’ll hurt either Agnes or Bertie. Or even your mother. I fear her hopes are misplaced in his having any connections, and I should hate it if she is taken advantage of.” She let the topic of Augie’s gambling slide, for now. She would ask her father later if he’d heard the rumors.
His stance softened at her words. “I stand corrected, Jemma, and I apologize. It’s just that you don’t seem in any hurry to marry, and I’ve noticed that half the women on the island seem to find him appealing.” He ran a hand through his hair and gave her a sideways glance. “I suppose next to him I appear a bit boring.”
“Mr. Shepherd does not hold any appeal for me.” She squeezed Augie’s arm, feeling guilty. “Not a bit.” Jemma hoped that would satisfy him, for she did not wish to discuss Nick Shepherd any longer.
Augie pushed a lock of brown hair off his forehead. “Forgive me for being a jealous dolt. I am just anxious for us to become man and wife. Come, let’s walk a bit then we’ll find you something to eat?”
Jemma kept her features bland as Augie proceeded to parade her about the festival, a smug expression on his boyish face. He made sure everyone saw them together, clutching her possessively to his side to solidify his claim on her. How many times had he paraded her about in such a fashion? She thought the number very high, and she had never really taken note. Until today. The Governor’s son and the prize catch of Hamilton, the richest heiress in all of Bermuda.
He whirled her about, speaking to nearly everyone, while she smiled automatically as if she hadn’t a care in the world. Augie’s grip on her elbow never lessened, his hold akin to that of warden with a prisoner. And that’s what she was.
How naïve I have been.There was no choice about her marriage. Not really. Augie was not a choice—he was theonlychoice. Their parents had decided years ago that she and Augie would wed. No other man dared to approach her, the understanding between the Mannings and the Corbetts dissuading all other suitors. If she didn’t marry Augie, who,exactly,would she marry?
Her gaze wandered over the clustered groups at the festival, noting the lack of eligible bachelors. She thought of her friend, Martha Covington. A lovely girl who'd been married off to a man old enough to be her grandfather. Martha now spent her days playing nurse, wiping drool from his chin. She thought of her papa's business associates from America. Mr. Morley and his son, the father a widower and the son a bachelor. The pair eyed Jemma as if she were a fat goose ripe for roasting. She'd been grateful for Augie's claim on her at the time.
I have only been delaying the inevitable. Father will only indulge me for so long. I would wish to have the love my parents did, but I shall have to settle for familiarity.
The idea made her incredibly sad.
“Why hello there, Corbett.” A beefy ginger-haired man clapped Augie on the shoulder, interrupting Jemma's self-pitying thoughts. He shot Jemma a toothy grin. “Good day, Miss Manning.”
“Jones!" Augie gave the man a wan smile, clearly not happy at all to see Mr. Jones. “What an unexpected pleasure to see you here.”
Preston Jones wobbled a bit but held steady as he shook Augie's hand forcefully. Mr. Preston Jones was short and round and clothed in a jacket of green and gold plaid. The waistcoat stretched snugly across his belly. An oval shaped sticky looking red stain spotted the waistcoat with several small crumbs stuck to it.
Cherry tart,Jemma surmised, thinking that Preston Jones looked like a large leprechaun. She sniffed the air.A leprechaun that fairly reeks of rum.
Wealthy and spoiled, Preston Jones was known to be a bit of drunkard. And a gambler. Though he was married, his wife, Susan, was constantly pregnant and rarely left their estate.
Jemma gave a small sigh. Augie really was the best Bermuda had to offer.
“Glad to see you here, Corbett. I've some business to settle with you from the other night.” A meaty hand clapped Augie on the shoulder.
Augie stumbled in the dirt, and his arm fell from Jemma’s elbow.
Surprised, she raised a brow in question. She’d not known that he and Preston Jones did business together. Or were even friends.
“I'm a bit busy, Jones. Now is not a good time." He gave Jones a pointed look. “Can’t you see I am escorting Miss Manning today?”
Mr. Jones laughed, though his eyes remained hard, all trace of amiable drunkenness gone. “Well, now. Miss Manning wouldn’t mind if I borrowed you for a moment, would you Miss Manning? Just a bit of business.” He winked at Jemma. “Won't take more than a moment.”
Augie moved back and forth on the balls of his feet, nervous as a rabbit after scenting a hunter. “If you insist.”
Jones smiled but his response was curt. “I do.”
“You don't mind, do you?” Augie's voice wavered.
“Of course not.” She was actually relieved to be free of Augie under the circumstances, no matter that her salvation took the form of Preston Jones. “If you and Mr. Jones have business to discuss I'll leave you to it. I believe I'll have another cup of cider and I am rather hungry. I’ll have a twist of conch with Mrs. Stanhope.” She nodded to Augie. “Find me when your business is concluded.”
“I won't be long.” Augie took her hand, squeezing softly. “I promise.”
Clapping Augie on the shoulder, Jones pushed him towards the other side of the festival where a carriage sat waiting. Turning, he doffed his hat to Jemma. “I’ll make sure he stays out of trouble, Miss Manning. I wouldn't let anything happen to yourbetrothed.”
Jemma inclined her head politely and turned towards the main tents. She did not care for the way in which Preston Jones looked at her, nor the highhanded way in which he strolled away with Augie. She swung her parasol, swatting at the long grass somewhat viciously, thinking how trapped she felt. A month ago there had been no such discontent about her future. What had changed?
