acting, Jocelyn thought as she grew drowsy at last. All this was temporary. Someday the British would leave and then she would see to her own life, and her own future.
Chapter 50
“You seem very pleased with yourself this morning,” Captain Denning remarked when Jocelyn served him breakfast the following morning.
“No more than usual,” she replied casually.
“I don’t believe that,” Captain Denning replied with a smile. “Did that cousin of yours finally come to his senses and offer to make an honest woman of you?”
“I am an honest woman, sir,” Jocelyn bristled. “And he is my cousin.”
“Then let me take you to supper one of these days,” Captain Denning said. He caught her by the wrist after she’d placed a plate of bacon and eggs before him. “Jocelyn, I’m sorry if I come across as brutish or insensitive. I don’t have much experience of women, to tell you the truth, at least not the kind of women that deserve respect.”
“All women deserve respect,” Jocelyn snapped, and snatched her hand away.
“You are right, of course. You see, I really do need a guiding hand,” the captain said, looking contrite. “My mother died when I was quite young, and I never had older sisters or aunts to instruct me. I am a novice when it comes to gently bred young ladies, and I would value your help.”
“So you can woo some unsuspecting girl?” Jocelyn replied archly.
“So I can woo you,” he said, his voice silky and seductive. “Teach me how to woo you.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Captain. Now, I really must get on with my duties.”
“Of course. Don’t let me keep you.”
“Good morning,” Jocelyn said as she turned to leave the room.
“It might have been,” the captain replied under his breath.
“Are you all right, Jocelyn?” Mrs. Johnson asked when she returned to the kitchen. “Might you be sickening for something?”
“No. Why?”
“Your face is flushed, and your eyes look unusually bright,” Mrs. Johnson replied, and Jocelyn realized she was being teased.
“I’ll be glad to see the back of Captain Denning, I don’t mind telling you,” Jocelyn said, bristling at the implication that he had the power to make her blush. “There’s just something about him that sets my teeth on edge.”
Mrs. Johnson smiled knowingly. “It’s the ones who set your teeth on edge that get under your skin,” she pointed out. “It’s hard to be immune to someone as beautiful as he is,” she said a bit too dreamily for a woman of her years.
“Wild animals can be beautiful, but that doesn’t make them any less dangerous,” Jocelyn replied archly.
“Is that what you think, that he’s dangerous?” Mrs. Johnson asked. “Has he acted inappropriately toward you? If he’s done anything untoward, you must report him to Major Radcliffe.”
“He makes me uneasy, that’s all,” Jocelyn replied.
She was spared from having to continue the conversation by the arrival of Private Sykes, who visited the kitchen more often than was strictly necessary. Mrs. Johnson seemed to have taken him under her wing and was always sneaking him slices of cake and cups of tea. She gave him an apple and a corn muffin and sent him on his way.
“You spoil him, Mrs. Johnson,” Jocelyn said, glad to have someone else to discuss for a change.
“My heart goes out to him,” Mrs. Johnson said as she covered the muffins and stowed them in the bread box, where the mice wouldn’t get to them. “He’s as much a soldier as I am a fine lady. It’s a good thing they have him delivering messages and accompanying the major when he goes out. That’s all that boy’s fit for. A bit soft in the head,” she said, tapping the side of her own head. “He’s as innocent as a child.”
“I suppose,” Jocelyn replied as she made a fresh pot of tea and took a seat at the kitchen table. It was time for her own breakfast. She buttered a piece of bread and reached for the egg she’d boiled earlier. She hadn’t given Private Sykes much thought, but now that Mrs. Johnson had mentioned it, she supposed there was something off about the private. It was as if his maturation had stopped as soon as he reached his teens. He was kind and pliable, but not overly perceptive when it came to the nuances of human interaction. She wouldn’t go as far as to call him soft in the head—that was cruel—but there was an innocence in him that made one want to be kind to him.
“Take him