Jane gasped at his effrontery. “I have done nothing of the sort.”

“Buffington? You saw her press herself against me that night, did you not?”

Buffington sighed. “I do not like to say it, but yes. I came upon you in the dining room before she and Mr. Vincent performed their tableau vivant. Miss Ellsworth was behaving in a most unmaidenly manner.”

Beth cried from the sidelines. “Jane! Is that why you were in the dining room when I saw you?”

“No!” Jane clenched the dry grass she knelt on. “I told you then why I was there.”

“You add slander of this most meritorious of women to your crimes, Captain Livingston!” Mr. Dunkirk’s feet crunched upon the straw, moving toward the sound of Captain Livingston’s voice. Then a dull thud indicated that he had fallen. He cursed.

“Slander? I?” Captain Livingston laughed. “You accuse me, taking the word of two silly women above mine? How could you think that I would have feelings for your sister? When have I ever shown her more regard than was due the sister of my aunt’s neighbour? Miss Ellsworth states her case as a desire to prevent you from harming me, but her actions have led you to do exactly the opposite of what she claims. If the situation were as she presents it, would not a better course have been to confront me directly with her proof and ask me to make amends? What reason could she possibly have for making so very public this story of hers, save for jealousy?”

From the ground Mr. Dunkirk said, “How do you account for the glamour recording?” But Jane could hear a doubt creep into his voice.

“I do not need to. No one has seen it, save her.” Captain Livingston’s voice sounded above her; then a hard hand brushed against her shoulder.

Jane shrieked. The hand grabbed her arm firmly, hauling her to her feet. The cold muzzle of a pistol pressed against her jaw.

Twenty-five

Snake in the Grass

“Miss Ellsworth!” In the darkness to Jane’s left, Mr. Dunkirk scrambled to his feet.

“Tell them a mouse ran over your hand.” Captain Livingston’s hot breath hissed in her ear. It stank of brandy.

Around them cries of alarm filled the dark, calling for Jane to reassure them that she was well. Captain Livingston shook her. “Do it. This pistol has but a hair trigger, and my anger alone is enough to make it fire.”

Jane did not doubt him. Voice trembling, she said, “A snake. I was surprized by a snake in the grass.”

He jabbed the pistol harder against her, reminding her of his threat. Louder then, his words serving as a warning to her and as theater for the others, he said, “Perhaps the snake is a reminder to you of your treachery. I suggest you withdraw your tale.”

Jane’s tongue dried in her mouth. “And if I did so, who would you marry?”