“Lord Carlton is just returned from America with his ships —and several others, as well,” Samuel added with a smile, for the merchants were proud of the privateers, and grateful to them.
“How fine,” said Amber nervously, and she had a terrible feeling that she was going to fall apart, collapse in little pieces from head to toe. “I just came to tell you, Samuel”—she spoke rapidly—“that I won’t be home in time for dinner. I’ve got a call to make.” She gave Carlton a swift uncertain glance. “Why don’t you come to supper this evening, Lord Carlton? I’m sure you must have a great many exciting tales to tell of your adventures at sea.”
He bowed again, smiling. “I don’t believe sea-going stories hold much interest for ladies, but I shall be very glad to come, Mrs. Dangerfield. Thank you.”
Amber gave them both an abrupt smile, curtsied, and went out in a rush of taffeta petticoats; the door banged noisily behind her. She ran back across the courtyard as if afraid that her legs would not carry her all the way to the coach. She climbed in, dropped down onto the seat, and closed her eyes.
Excitedly Nan seized her hand. “Is he there, mam?”
“Yes,” she whispered weakly. “He’s there.”
Half an hour later she was at Almsbury House and Emily was greeting her with eager enthusiasm. Together they started upstairs toward the nursery.
“How kind of you to call! We’ve been in town less than a fortnight and we tried to find you but at the Theatre they could only tell us you’d married, but didn’t know where you were living. Lord Carlton is here with us—”
“Yes, I know. I just saw him at my husband’s office. Do you think he’ll come back here for dinner?”
“I don’t know. I believe that he and John were to meet somewhere at one.”
They had reached the nursery and found the children having their porridge. Amber’s disappointment over the prospect of missing Bruce was partly eased by her reunion with her son, whom she had not seen since the previous September. He was an extraordinarily beautiful child, healthy and happy and friendly, with dark waving hair and green eyes. She picked him up in her arms, laughing gaily when he kissed her and got cream on her cheeks and mouth and tangled his spoon in her curls.
“Daddy’s here too, Mother!” he announced loudly. “Aunt Emily brought me all the way to London to see him!”
“Oh,” said Amber, a little jealous resentment pricking at her. “You knew he was coming?”
“He wrote to John,” explained Emily. “He wanted to see the baby.”
“He isn’t married, is he?”
It was the one question she dreaded to ask, each time he came back, though she could not imagine whom a man could find to marry in that barbarous empty land across the ocean.
“No,” said Emily.
Amber sat down on the floor with Bruce and a fat barking spotted puppy which belonged to him, while Emily’s two sons came to join them. Between playing with the puppy and talking to her son, she managed to ask Emily some questions.
“How long is he going to stay this time?”
“A month or so, I believe. He’s going to volunteer his ships for the war.”
“The war! It hasn’t begun yet, has it?”
“Not yet, but soon, I believe. At least that’s what they’re saying at Court.”
“But what’s he going to do that for? He might lose them all—”
Emily looked faintly surprised. “Why, he wants to. England needs every ship and every experienced seaman she can get. Many privateers will do the same thing—”
At just that moment Bruce came through the opened doorway and walked toward them. While Amber sat speechless and helpless, the baby broke out of her arms and ran to his father, who swung him up onto one shoulder. He was standing above her now, looking down and smiling.
“I thought I might find you here.”
JEMIMA CAME RUNNING into the bedroom that evening as Amber was getting dressed for supper. “Amber!” she cried joyously. “Oh, Amber, thank you!”
Amber turned and saw to her annoyance that Jemima, dressed in a gown of cornflower-blue satin, with the skirt caught up by artificial roses and real roses pinned into her glossy curls, was looking prettier than she ever had.
“Thank you for what?”
“For inviting Lord Carlton to supper, of course! Father told me he was coming and that you had asked him!”
“Joseph Cuttle’s coming too, remember,” said Amber crossly. “And if you’re not nice to him your father will be mighty displeased.”
“Oh, Joseph Cuttle! Who cares about him! Oh, Amber, I’m so excited. What’ll I do? What’ll I say? Oh, I do want to make a great impression! Tell me what I shall do, Amber, please—You know about those things.”
“Just be quiet and modest,” advised Amber, somewhat tartly. “Remember, men never like a pert woman.”
Jemima was instantly subdued, struggling to compose her face. “I know it! I’ve got to be very formal and languishing—if only I can! But, oh, I think I’ll faint at the sight of him! Tell me—how do I look?”
“Oh, tearing fine,” Amber assured her. She got up to put on her gown.
