She blinked again. “Well, for God’s sake, Drew, how am I supposed to look for a party? Should I have worn one of my old work dresses? Maybe my gardening one, replete with grass stains?”
“You know what I meant.” He glowered. “That one is much too—too—”
“There is nothing wrong with this gown. Mrs. Mullins, my seamstress, assured me it’s in very good taste.”
“Then Mrs. Mullins doesn’t have any.”
“Any what?”
“Good taste herself.” When that brought a gasp and then a narrowing of her chocolate eyes, Drew decided he’d better back off. “Now, Georgie, it’s not so much the dress, but what it doesn’t cover, if you get my meaning.”
“I got your meaning right off, Drew Anderson,” she said indignantly. “Am I supposed to dress out of fashion just because my brother objects to the cut of my bodice? I’ll wager you’ve never complained about this particular style on other women, have you?”
Since he hadn’t, he decided it might be prudent to shut his mouth on the subject. But still—Damn, but she’d given him a turn. He’d known she’d blossomed into a little beauty, but this was broadcasting it from the mainmast.
Georgina took pity on his flushed discomfort. After all, she hadn’t had occasion to dress up the last few times Drew was home, so it had been several years since he had seen her in anything other than her modest day dresses—and more recently, her boy’s attire. She’d had this gown made up last Christmas for the Willards’ annual ball, but a severe cold had kept her from wearing it then. But the Grecian style was still in the height of fashion, as was the thinness of the material, in this case a sheer rose batiste over white silk. And her mother’s ruby necklace was the perfect touch to fill in the bare expanse below her neck, which Drew was objecting to.
But his objection really was a bit ridiculous. It wasn’t as if she were in danger of exposing herself. There was a good inch and a half of ribbon-threaded material above her nipples, a considerable amount compared to some gowns she had seen on other women. So a little cleft was showing. A little cleft was supposed to show.
“It’s all right, Drew.” She grinned now. “I promise not to drop anything. And if I do, I’ll let someone else pick it up for me.”
He accepted that out gracefully. “See that you do,” but couldn’t resist adding, “you’ll be lucky if Warren doesn’t put a sack over your head.”
She rolled her eyes. This was just what she needed to make the evening go smoothly, brothers all over the room glaring at any man who got near her, or surrounding her themselves so no man could get near.
“What were you doing with that?” she asked, indicating the vase to change the subject.
“Just having a closer look at what’s cost us our China trade.”
Georgina had heard the story the night of her homecoming. The vase wasn’t just an antique, but a priceless piece of art from the Tang dynasty, some nine hundred years old, and Warren had won it in a game of chance. If that wasn’t incredible enough, he’d wagered his ship against it! If she hadn’t also heard that Warren was quite drunk at the time, she wouldn’t have believed it, since theNereuswas the most important thing in his life.
But Clinton had confirmed it. He’d been there at the time and hadn’t even tried to talk Warren out of the game, not that he could have. Apparently, he’d wanted the vase just as badly to take the risk of losing one of the Skylark ships. Of course, one ship was nothing in comparison to the value of that vase.
What neither of them had realized at the time was that the Chinese warlord who had wagered his vase against Warren’s ship had no intention of honoring the bet if he lost, which he did. A group of his followers had attacked them on the way back to their ships, and if their crews hadn’t come to the rescue, neither of them would have survived that night. As it was, they just barely escaped Canton without having their ships fired upon. And having to leave so suddenly was the reason they were home much sooner than expected.
As she watched Drew carefully lock the vase back in Clinton’s desk, she remarked. “I’m surprised Clinton has taken it so well, that it will be a very long time before a Skylark ship dares venture into Chinese waters again.”
“Oh, I don’t know. As lucrative as the Canton trade was, I think he was getting tired himself of the long voyages. I know Warren was. And they did make several European stops on the way back, to establish new markets.”
She hadn’t heard that before. “Is England being forgiven then and considered for one of those markets?”
He looked at her and chuckled. “You must be joking. With as much money as they cost us with their arbitrary blockade before the war? Not to mention how many of their blasted warships stopped ours to impress their so-called deserters. It’ll be a cold day in hell before Clinton deals with an Englishman again, even if we were desperate for their trade, which we’re certainly not.”
Her grimace was inward. If there had been a secret hope that she might someday return to England to see James again, she might as well bury it. If only that trip to Jamaica hadn’t been his last, she could have gone back there easily enough. But he’d confessed that he had only gone there to dispose of his holdings, that he was returning to England for good.
“I didn’t think so,” she said now in a small voice.
“What’s the frown for, Georgie? Haveyouforgiven England, after those bastards stole your Malcolm and caused you such grief?”
She almost laughed. England, no, but one particular Englishman she’d forgive anything, if only he…what? Had loved her a little instead of just desiring her? That was asking for the moon.
But Drew was waiting for an answer, and she gave him the one he most likely expected. “Certainly not,” she snapped, and turned to leave, only to find Warren on his way into the room. His eyes went straight to her decolletage, and his expression immediately started gathering storm clouds, and she snapped again, “Not one word, Warren, or I’ll rip it off and come down to the party naked, see if I don’t!”
“I wouldn’t,” Drew cautioned when Warren started to follow her out of the room.
“Did you see the bosoms on that girl?” Warren’s tone was half outrage, half amazement.
“Couldn’t miss ’em.” Drew smiled wryly. “I mentioned it myself, and received a quelling set-down. The girl grew up, Warren, when we weren’t looking.”
