The Mistress of His Manor

by Catherine George

  ‘In that case,’ she said, as they went into the kitchen, ‘sit there, so you don’t get in my way, and I’ll give you things to do.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am!’ March slung his jacket over the back of one of her chairs and sat down, his pleasure so obvious at the unexpected turn of events she thawed completely.

  Jo passed him silverware and mats and told him to lay the table. ‘If you know how,’ she added.

  ‘Of course I know how! I live alone, remember.’

  ‘In a “sort of flat”,’ she agreed wryly, filling a kettle. ‘How big is it?’

  ‘Big enough. Some of it,’ he went on, ‘was the domain of the servants at one time. My mother had a good eye, and with the help of an architect friend of my father managed to achieve comfortable living quarters for us without losing the character of the old rooms. What else can I do?’ he added.

  Jo put the casserole to heat in the microwave, and then handed March a board, a loaf and a bread knife. ‘You can cut some of that.’ In record time she set two steaming plates on the table and sat down. ‘There. No serving dishes tonight,’ she informed him pointedly.

  March ate in silence for a moment, looking across at her. ‘I can’t help who I am, Joanna.’

  ‘No.’ She sighed. ‘It’s just that I felt like such a fool when I found out.’

  ‘You weren’t straight with me either,’ he pointed out. ‘It got me on the raw that you thought I’d be some kind of sponging hanger-on if I heard about your background.’

  She coloured slightly. ‘It’s happened before, so you can understand why.’

  ‘I do. The same goes for my little deception,’ he countered.

  ‘It’s a whole lot bigger than mine,’ said Jo, taking a slice of bread. ‘I don’t have a title, or ancestors who fought in the Civil War.’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘But there’s something mysterious about you, just the same. If you were adopted, do you know who your real parents were?’

  ‘Oh, yes. One day, when—if—I get to know you better, I’ll tell you about them.’

  ‘When, not if,’ said March flatly. ‘I’m damned if I’ll let an accident of birth prevent a relationship between us, Joanna.’

  ‘Accident?’

  ‘I just happened to be born to a father with a title.’

  ‘Was his name March, too?’

  He shook his head. ‘My grandfather’s. Mother was the only child of Randall Lewis March, an old rogue of an entrepreneur with a finger in every profitable pie going.’

  Jo eyed him questioningly. ‘She must have died young.’

  ‘Just after my finals.’ His eyes shadowed. ‘My father was never the same afterwards.’

  ‘Poor man.’ Impulsively Jo reached out a hand to touch his. ‘You must have suffered, too, March.’

  ‘All three of us did. But Rufus most of all because he was the youngest—her baby boy, as Mother used to tease him.’ March shivered slightly. ‘She had an emergency appendix operation that went wrong. It happened so suddenly we were all in shock afterwards, including my grandfather. He died not long afterwards.’ He released her hand. ‘Sorry, Joanna. You don’t need this right now, when you look so tired. Have you had a bad day?’

  ‘Bad night.’ She looked him in the eye. ‘I was hurt when you stormed off on Saturday night.’

  ‘So was I.’

  ‘Were you?’

  ‘Yes. That’s why I lost it.’ He smiled a little. ‘So, did our fight make your day harder for you? There must be more for you to do while your father’s away.’

  ‘There are plenty of people to keep things moving until the boss gets back to work. Including me.’ Jo smiled proudly. ‘But Jack is the driving force. Even so, I hope he’ll stay home as long as Kate needs him.’

  ‘He looks very young to be your father.’

  ‘Jack’s not even fifty yet, and so far no grey hair. But if you think he looks young you should see Kate!’

  ‘I’d like to very much,’ he said promptly. ‘Or does meeting your mother come under the same heading of “not until you know me better”?’

  Jo looked at him in thoughtful silence. ‘Look, March,’ she said at last, ‘now I know who you are it’s just so hard for me to see that happening.’

  ‘Because of the blasted title,’ he snapped, and got up so suddenly the table rocked. ‘I can’t change it, Joanna. I am who I am.’

  ‘I know that!’ Jo leapt up in consternation. ‘Please don’t storm off again.’

  ‘Why not?’

  She glared at him resentfully. ‘You could at least try a little more persuasion.’

  Suddenly very still, March raised an unsettling eyebrow. ‘If I do resort to persuasion, Miss Logan, it might not be to your taste.’

  ‘Try me.’

  He held out his hand, his eyes bright with something that set her heart thudding. Aware that she could hardly complain after throwing down the gauntlet, Jo took the hand cautiously, half expecting to be jerked into his arms again. But March merely led her to the parlour and drew her down on the sofa beside him. He looked down into her wary face for a long moment, then took her in his arms and kissed her very thoroughly. At the first touch of his lips all her anger and indignation vanished, and she leaned into him, returning the kiss with warmth he accepted like a gift, his arms tightening as the kiss rapidly grew more heated.

  ‘Is this the kind of persuasion you meant?’ he demanded against her mouth.

  ‘Not exactly,’ she whispered. ‘But I like it.’

  He gave a smothered laugh, then kissed her again, his exploring tongue caressing hers. She shivered as his hands slid beneath her shirt, fingers outspread on her ribs just short of her breasts. She tensed, waiting, but his hands stayed still, the mere touch of them on her skin sending fire down to the part of her in full contact with his arousal.

  March raised his head, breathing hard as he looked down into her eyes. ‘You are so lovely, Joanna Logan. I don’t know what my friendly persuasion is doing for you, but it’s playing hell with me.’

  ‘Then that had better be enough for now,’ she said, and forced herself to stand up.

  March got up with her and caught her close. ‘You do realise I’ve wanted to kiss you senseless since the first time I saw you?’

  Jo’s lips twitched. ‘Still not beating about the bush.’

  ‘I am. Because I want a hell of a lot more. As,’ he added dryly, ‘I’m sure you could tell.’ He smoothed her hair back from her face. ‘But pride—or pig-headedness, if you like—is part of the package with this famous pedigree of mine. Send me away this time, Joanna, and I won’t come back.’

  She bit her lip, knowing he meant every word. And suddenly the thought of never seeing him again was so intolerable it simplified everything. ‘I’m not sending you away,’ she said abruptly.

  His eyes gleamed with triumph. ‘You’ve changed your mind?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I like you, Lord Arnborough, even if you were a touch economical with the truth.’

  ‘So were you, Miss Logan,’ he retorted. ‘I like you too—so much that I don’t want to go. But perhaps I should, while I’m winning.’

  ‘And is winning very important to you?’

  ‘Of course. It is to every man.’ March tightened his arms round her. ‘But I want a lot more than mere friendship—in time.’

  So do I, thought Jo. A couple of brief sessions in his arms had shown her that all too clearly. ‘I can live with that,’ she said, and gasped as his arms tightened enough to threaten risk to her ribs. ‘At least,’ she added with difficulty, ‘I might if you let me breathe.’

  He chuckled, and released her slowly. ‘Joanna, I know your life is hectic at the moment, but I want to spend more time with you. Soon.’

  ‘At the weekend?’

  ‘Will you drive to Arnborough?’

  Jo raised an eyebrow. ‘I thought you didn’t want me there again.’

  ‘Only while I was incognito.’ March smoothe
d a hand down her cheek. ‘Now the gloves are off, so to speak, I thought you might like to see over the house with me. If you come early on Saturday we can explore before the paying public arrives.’

  Her eyes sparkled. ‘Will you show me the bits roped off from the public? Including your “sort of flat”?’

  ‘Everything,’ he promised.

  ‘Then I’ll come. I’ve already paid the entrance fee twice, by the way, so do I get in free this time?’

  He leered theatrically. ‘There might possibly be a small charge—but it won’t be money.’

  ‘La, sir!’ She fluttered her eyelashes. ‘What can you mean?’

  ‘Exactly what you think I mean,’ he said, and kissed her.

  Jo responded with fervour, leaning into him as he held her close. She was no stranger to being kissed, but this was different. When March raised his head at last she told him so.

  ‘Why different?’ he demanded, his eyes narrowed to gleaming slivers of amber.

  ‘Maybe because I haven’t been kissed by a lord before.’

  ‘In that case,’ he drawled, ‘I’d better make sure it’s a memorable experience.’

  Jo found a pleasure in just kissing she had never experienced before. In the past it had always been a prelude, usually brief, to what the man in question hoped would happen next. But March took infinite pleasure in teaching her the joy to be found in only the play of lips and tongue, of kisses which roamed all over her face, and then homed in again on the mouth which responded to his with such all-out fervour March groaned at last and buried his face in her hair

  ‘I should go,’ he muttered. ‘Before I lose the territory I regained.’

  ‘Are we having a battle, then?’ Jo demanded.

  He raised his head to look down at her. ‘If so, victory is mine.’

  She smiled wryly. ‘But it’s a good thing you didn’t run into me at the Hall on Sunday. Once I saw your photograph I was ready to do murder.’

  ‘Which would be a pity,’ he said lightly, shifting her more comfortably. ‘Rufus has no intention of marrying, he tells me. So the only hope of succession lies with me.’

  ‘Then why haven’t you lined up some aristocratic fiancée, ready to carry on the family name for you?’ Jo paused, eyeing him narrowly. ‘Or maybe you have.’

  ‘At present, Joanna Logan, I have not.’ March’s eyes held hers steadily. ‘I did at one time. She was beautiful, came from the same background—everything I’d ever wanted in a wife. I was crazy about her at the time. Like a fool I believed that my sentiments were returned when she said yes to my proposal. But when the lady discovered just how little hard cash went with the rest, my ancestral home—and my person—suddenly lost their charm.’

  ‘Were you hurt?’

  ‘Of course I was—not least my pride. So I decided to avoid anything remotely like that kind of relationship in future.’

  Jo eyed him curiously. ‘But there must have been other women in your life since then?’

  ‘Of course. I’m no monk. But light-hearted, no-strings encounters have been the order of the day since Lavinia.’ March eyed her curiously. ‘How about you? Anyone since young Peel?’

  ‘Of course. I was a student at college here as well as Oxford, remember? But I steered clear of anything heavy. Unlike you, I’ve never suffered from a consuming passion, and I hope to keep it that way. These days I feel happiest socialising with girlfriends, or with the Carey twins.’

  March drew her nearer. ‘You could be happy socialising with me, too, Joanna.’

  She smiled. ‘I know I could. So I’ll drive over to look round your home with you at the weekend.’

  ‘You said you liked the place,’ he reminded her.

  ‘I do.’ She frowned as something occurred to her. ‘But tell me something. If you’re family’s so old, how come you’re still just a baron?’

  March gave a shout of laughter. ‘You were throwing my title at me like a dirty word earlier—now it’s not good enough for you?’

  Jo grinned. ‘I meant, Lord Arnborough, that I thought a family as old as yours would have risen to a higher rank at some point.’

  ‘Ah, but we batted for Parliament during the Civil War.’

  ‘No!’ She stared at him, fascinated. ‘How extraordinary. I pictured you as a Cavalier.’

  March shook his head. ‘Josiah Clement, the Lord Arnborough of the time, was Puritan to the core, and a respected politician. He did his utmost to help settle the differences between the opposing sides. He was no fan of Charles the First, but disagreed vehemently with regicide. He refused to endorse the sovereign’s execution, declined a seat in Cromwell’s parliament later, and afterwards lived in seclusion until Charles the Second came to the throne. At which point Josiah was pardoned, given a seat in the new parliament, and allowed to retain his barony. And barons we’ve been ever since.’

  ‘Do you ever feel weighed down by all that history?’ asked Joanna.

  ‘It’s just part of who I am,’ he said, shrugging, and got up. ‘And now, Miss Logan, I’ll take myself off and let you get to bed.’

  ‘I’m glad you came back,’ she confided, as she went with him to the door.

  ‘So am I. I hope you find your mother well tomorrow.’ March bent his head and kissed her. ‘Come early on Saturday morning,’ he ordered, and smiled.

  Chapter Six

  NEXT day Jo found Kate sitting by her hospital bed, giving her son milk.

  ‘You look so much better,’ Jo said fervently, kissing her. ‘Is your blood count right back to normal?’

  ‘It certainly is. But not my milk supply—the same as with you and Kitty. So it’s the bottle for young Tom here, too.’ Kate smiled. ‘Jack’s coming in an hour to take us home. Poor darling—he got the shock of his life last night when he saw me hooked up to the blood transfusion.’

  ‘I know. He called in at Park Crescent to warn me. And met my hot gardener, by the way.’

  ‘Really?’ Kate’s eyes sparkled as she patted her son against her shoulder. ‘Were you feeding him again?’

  ‘I hadn’t intended to, but in the end I did.’ Jo took the chair on the other side of the bed. ‘March arrived while Leo Carey was there, and was noticeably uptight about it. Not that he had any right to be. He was the transgressor.’

  Kate’s eyes widened. ‘Really? What had he done? Or shouldn’t I ask?’

  ‘Jack knows already.’ Jo gave a crow of delight as the baby gave a loud burp. ‘Oh, well done—clever boy,’ she said, stroking the downy little head. ‘Plug him into his bottle again and I’ll tell you what happened last Sunday.’

  Kate listened, entranced, as Jo told her tale. ‘How amazing! So why did Lord Arnborough come to see you last night?’

  ‘Apparently the pub landlord saw me storming past the Arnborough Arms on Sunday and told March, who wanted to know why.’ Jo pulled a face. ‘I was furious because I felt like such a fool. I’d actually told him that first night in the pub that I liked the Hall so much I wanted to marry the heir.’

  ‘No!’ Kate shifted her son more comfortably and shot a sly look at her daughter. ‘Would you still like to do that?’

  ‘No way,’ said Jo fiercely. ‘Come on, Kate, discounting a dozen or so other reasons, can you see me as chatelaine of Arnborough Hall?’

  ‘Even so, you like this man a lot?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So are you going to see him again?’

  ‘He’s taking me round the Hall on Saturday, before the public pay to do the same. Only I get to see the places they don’t.’

  Kate frowned. ‘So where are you going with this?’

  Jo shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Last night he said he wants us to be friends at least. If not Lord Arnborough was leaving and wasn’t coming back. And he meant it.’

  ‘Did he mean friendship, or something more?’

  Jo got up restlessly. ‘He’s a man, so I suppose he’ll want something more. I quite like the idea too—and not because he has a title.’

 
‘I know that! You were smitten when you thought he was just a hot gardener.’

  ‘I wish he still was,’ said Jo sadly. ‘It would make life so much simpler.’

  ‘He’s still the same man.’

  ‘That’s what he said. But, Kate, the man has a pedigree a mile long, and a house he opens to the public!’

  ‘Something tells me you’re a little bit serious about him already.’

  Jo sighed. ‘Just a little bit.’

  Kate got up and handed Jo her baby brother. ‘Cuddle him for a minute while I get dressed. And don’t you dare let Charlie Peel get in the way of this thing with March.’

  ‘Well, since he almost killed March’s brother he’s very much in the way.’ Jo walked up and down, her hand cupped around the tiny head against her breast. ‘You know how I feel about the accident.’

  Kate was silent for a moment as she packed the last of her belongings into a suitcase, then took her son from Jo. ‘Listen to me, Joanna Logan. Charlie ruined life at Oxford for you. Don’t let him ruin your relationship with March.’

  ‘I’m not doing that,’ said Jo, surprised. ‘I was just cross with March because he didn’t tell me who he was right at the beginning.’

  ‘Neither did you.’

  ‘It was hardly the same! My family tree is a mere sapling compared with his.’

  ‘But it’s good stock just the same, Joanna. You’re capable, intelligent, a pleasure to look at, and you can even cook! Lord Arnborough would be jolly lucky to have you as his chatelaine.’ Kate paused, smiling down as the baby began to object. ‘Sorry, my lovely boy. Was Mummy shouting? I was just telling your sister she’s good enough for any man.’

  Jo rolled her eyes. ‘Thank you, Mummy!’

  Kate looked up at the sound of a familiar voice outside. She smiled radiantly as her husband came in. ‘Are you ready to take us home?’

  ‘You bet I am,’ said Jack Logan, kissing her. ‘You look so much better, darling—thank God. How do you feel?’

  ‘Raring to go home.’