Instructing to have her bags taken to her room, Jane went directly to Lady Lansbury’s suite, knocking gently on the door. Lady Lansbury’s maid admitted her.
‘How is Lady Lansbury?’ Jane asked, unable to conceal her concern.
‘She is resting, but I know she will be pleased to see you back. I was about to go and get her some tea, so I’ll leave you for a moment.’
‘I’ve just arrived, but I will be happy to sit with her for a while.’
Jane crossed the richly patterned carpet to the bed. The curtains were partly drawn over the windows to keep out the bright light. Lady Lansbury lay propped against a mound of pillows, her face drawn. Jane was startled by her condition. Her eyes were closed and there was a hollowness about her cheeks. Jane had not expected to find her so ill. When she opened her eyes, on seeing Jane she smiled. Her eyes warmed and at once she was as she had always been—kind, sweet-natured, gracious, affectionate, even despite the difference in their rank.
‘Jane! I cannot tell you how pleased I am to see you back at Chalfont—and how lovely you look. I hope things went well for you in London.’
‘Yes—yes, they did.’
Lady Lansbury coughed a little, then sighed deeply, her hands fluttering like pale flowers on the lace-edged bedspread.
Jane was concerned by her pale face and the bleak expression in her eyes. ‘I had no idea you were ill. Had I known I would have returned sooner. How long have you been like this?’
‘Please don’t concern yourself, Jane. I’m all right. I took a chill after getting caught in the rain three days ago when I took Octavia down to the lake. It had been threatening rain all morning. I should have known better than to leave the house without a coat.’
‘Have you been seen by a doctor?’
Lady Lansbury closed her eyes. ‘Yes, yes I have,’ she replied wearily. ‘Doctor Boynton, our family physician, came to see me yesterday. He left some medicine and told me to remain in bed for a few days. Have you seen Octavia?’
‘Not yet. When I was told you were poorly, I came straight up. How is she?’
‘The same. Maisie has been looking after her in your absence. Octavia will be overjoyed to see you back. Christopher isn’t back from London yet, although he is expected any day now. It would appear that things are beginning to look up at last. He’s been meeting with the auditors and others who look after his finances. He wrote telling me he might not have to sell the London house after all.’
‘I’m happy to hear that. It must be a tremendous relief.’ Having no wish to discuss Lord Lansbury, whom she had struggled day and night to put from her mind, Jane averted her eyes and said quickly, ‘Is there anything I can get you?’
‘No, thank you, Jane. I am sure you will want to settle in. Come and see me later—and bring Octavia with you. She will be overjoyed to have you back.’
As Jane made her way to her own room, she knew she could not tell Lady Lansbury she was planning to leave Chalfont until she was feeling better. She had no wish to cause her further upset. Her hopes that she would have left before Lord Lansbury returned from London were dashed.
* * *
Octavia was delighted to have Jane back at Chalfont and in no time at all their days fell into a familiar pattern. Unable to shake off her chill, Lady Lansbury kept to her room, where Jane would visit with Octavia twice a day.
Almost a week after Jane had returned, Lord Lansbury arrived. The first thing he did was to see his mother, who informed him that Jane was back. He was relieved his mother remained in ignorance of what had transpired between Miss Mortimer and himself in London. At the very least he was grateful to Miss Mortimer for that.
Determined to speak to her immediately, he went to the suite of rooms she shared with Octavia, where he was told by Maisie that they had left earlier to walk to the lake.
* * *
One hour later, from the window of his bedroom he saw Miss Mortimer crossing the lawn with Octavia dancing along beside her, Poppy yapping at their heels. After looking fondly at his young sister for a moment, his eyes, as though drawn by a magnet, became fixed on the young woman who was causing such disruption to his life.
What a proud, spirited young woman she was, he thought, and she was wearing a new gown. Ever since he had laid eyes on her she had slowly blossomed before his eyes. Now this tall, stylish goddess of a creature was as rakishly elegant as a fashion picture.
She was wearing an informal day dress in lavender. The front was flat, the back full; the elegant cut accentuating her slimness. Her hair was also different. Swept upward away from her face, it showed to advantage her long slender neck. Curling tendrils drifted about her face and neck as he had never seen them do before.
The loveliness of her smiling face was flushed with her exertions and when she moved her slender, though softly rounded, form floated with a fluidity and grace over the freshly mown lawn. In the simple elegance of her dress, chosen to blend with the soft warmth of her skin and hair, Christopher’s breath caught in his throat as he watched the irresistible curve of her generous lips as she laughed with Octavia. He had never thought to see her looking so at ease, so provocatively lovely, glamorous and bewitching. He already yearned to hold her in his arms, to feel her warmth, smell her hair, her flesh.
As he recollected himself his dark eyebrows dipped alarmingly and his lips thinned. Every time he thought of her, of kissing her, he felt a sharp needle of exasperation drive through him, directed at her, as though, like a witch, she had cast a spell on him, which was totally absurd. It was not her fault that he couldn’t seem to put her out of his mind. No woman had clouded his judgement and stolen his peace of mind so completely. Never in his life had he felt a bond so great and a feeling so all consuming.
Jolted from his reverie when the centre of his attention disappeared inside the house, with a soft curse he turned from the window. After their angry encounter he had believed her to be a scheming little opportunist, driven by nothing but her own ambition. Had he been wrong about her? If it turned out that he had made a mistake, then he would have to bear the load of self-recrimination for the accusations he had heaped on her.
The humiliation that had engulfed him when she had made him the offer of her money had clouded his judgement and it had been wrong of him to condemn her out of hand.
* * *
When the summons came for Jane to attend Lord Lansbury in his study she went directly. Unaware of what awaited her, she was apprehensive but determined to stand her ground. Perhaps he had decided to send her away from Chalfont to be thoroughly rid of her. He had good reason for doing so. But in any case she had to leave. To be near Lord Lansbury, to continue to work in his house with no other prospects, knowing the disdain with which he regarded her, was an intolerable thought. Thank goodness she could make choices about her future.
Although, as she made her way to his study, she found that she felt the same longing to see him again. Looking back, she had no idea what had possessed her when she had found herself alone with him on the train, for she had been unable to stop herself. It was as if Jane Mortimer—plain, God-fearing Jane Mortimer—had undergone an extraordinary transformation beneath that intense silver-grey gaze and become some kind of shameless Delilah. Every time she thought of it, her acute embarrassment came flooding back, along with an odd, breathless excitement that she was certain could not be anything but wicked.
When she entered the study, Lord Lansbury was working at his big desk and did not look up, even when the door was shut. As she stood, she looked at him, recalling the days and nights she had struggled to keep him from her thoughts, to forget him, which had all been for nothing. The memories came and with them the emotions she had felt before she had left him in London. The feelings she had wanted so desperately to deny swept over her and she knew that what she had felt for him before was not dead, was still very much alive inside her.
How could she have thought that she could forget him?
‘You asked to see me,’ she said.
‘Yes, I did. Please sit down. I will be with you in a moment.’
Hearing that terse, cold, impersonal voice, Jane felt her heart contract as she moved to sit down on the chair at an angle to the fireplace and some distance away from the desk. The room opened directly on to the terrace, colourful with roses and pots of geraniums. A sweet scent of honeysuckle and mown grass wafted through the open French windows, along with the call of a blackbird above the constant hum of buzzing bees.
Jane sat quite still, practically holding her breath. The silence was so complete that the swift scratching of the pen across the paper seemed to her to make a shattering noise. He went on writing, eyes down.
Looking at his bent head, despite her determination not to think of him ever again in any romantic sense, Jane felt such a pang of longing and need that she wanted to confess her feelings. How her blood stirred at the sight of him. During the time they had been apart she had hoped she had managed to conquer the debilitating effect he always had on her senses, but his potent sexual magnetism was like a palpable force. How had she allowed him to do this to her? She was scandalised by the stirrings inside her that the mere sight of him commanded and she resented this hunger, this need, that held her captive to her emotions.
She could not allow herself to continue in this way. The sooner she left Chalfont and put Christopher Chalfont behind her, the better it would be for her peace of mind.
Suddenly he put down his pen, looked up and their eyes locked. The eyes that met hers were hard, his face expressionless. Shoving back his chair, he stood up and walked around the desk. Not wishing to be at a disadvantage by remaining seated, Jane got to her feet and gazed at him wonderingly, forgetting in an instant all that he had made her suffer—the unjust, insulting accusations he had flung at her.
As he strode towards her, the room seemed to shrink. He was so tall that she thought he must surely have grown since she had seen him last. But otherwise he was unchanged. There was still the same masterful face and silver-grey eyes, the same brushed-back dark hair. As he came closer a knot began to form inside her chest. He was politely frightening and bore down on her with the predatory grace of a stalking beast.
Considering the turmoil within her, her voice was curiously calm when she spoke. ‘What is it you wish to speak to me about?’ He halted in front of her. She drew a deep breath and inhaled the sharp scent of sandalwood and with it an added scent of him. It disconcerted her. Did he have to stand so close?
‘Do you really want me to spell it out? We cannot avoid one another. It is best that we clear the air between us.’
Jane’s proud, disdainful violet eyes met and held Lord Lansbury’s grey ones without flinching. She was discovering, agreeably, that now she was face to face with him, the vague terrors which had haunted her ever since their last encounter had melted away. The remembrance of her feelings at that time made her forget her momentary wrath. Her face relaxed a little.
‘Yes, that is the sensible thing to do.’
‘I feel as if I have been in some kind of bizarre limbo since our meeting in London,’ he said, moving away from her. ‘You really are quite extraordinary. You shouldn’t go around giving your money to strangers.’
‘You’re not—I mean, a stranger—and I’ve never done this sort of thing in my life. But then, I didn’t have any money of my own before.’
He chuckled softly. ‘It was like something out of the Arabian Nights tale when, like a genie out of a bottle, you appeared on my doorstep, intending to solve all my problems with your money.’
‘Why are you laughing?’
‘Because, on reflection, you were beginning to sound like an American girl.’
Jane bristled. ‘Like Miss Spelling, I think you mean.’ She frowned. ‘Are you making fun of me?’
‘Perhaps a little.’
‘Then please don’t.’
Jane could feel his eyes studying her as he circled the desk, to stand on the opposite side.
‘It seems you are not quite as I thought you to be, which I find disconcerting,’ he continued. ‘My preconceived ideas of you are falling away, Miss Mortimer.’
‘And what preconceived ideas might they be?’
‘I thought you were mild tempered, not easily roused to anger. It appears I was wrong on both counts.’
‘Yes, you were,’ Jane admitted calmly.
‘You have a temper, with no compunction about speaking your mind and attacking those who make you cross.’
‘Only those who provoke me. I understand perfectly if you don’t want me here. Indeed, when I returned I fully intended telling Lady Lansbury that I was leaving—to be gone before you returned. Unfortunately she was unwell and I had no wish to upset her.’
‘For that, at least, I am grateful. I must confess that after what occurred between us on our last encounter, I was surprised to find you had returned to Chalfont. It did enter my mind that you had returned to provoke me.’
‘Provoke you?’ Jane replied, doing her utmost to remain calm, determined not to let him draw her to anger and cause her to lose her fragile grip on her emotions as she had done the last time. ‘Why on earth should I do that? Do not judge me by your own behaviour. It would never occur to me to stoop to anything so shallow. I told you—knowing how abhorrent my presence in your home would be to you now, it was my intention to leave before you returned from London. I considered it best to avoid any confrontation that might end as our last meeting did.’
Fury flared in his eyes. ‘Whenever we happen to meet in the future, Miss Mortimer, it will never end like that one. I do not suppose it occurred to you to inform me before you left Chalfont.’
‘No,’ she answered with characteristic bluntness. ‘It was Lady Lansbury who engaged me to care for Lady Octavia. It would have been extremely rude on my part to leave without explaining my reason for doing so. When Lady Lansbury engaged me to come to Chalfont I was wholly committed to caring for Lady Octavia, but I did explain to her that it would only be a temporary arrangement.’
‘And naturally your change of circumstances means you have to leave.’
‘Yes—although I do have other reasons,’ she told him, thinking of Finn, ‘along with the fact that after what transpired between us has made my situation untenable. You must see that.’
‘Nevertheless, this is my house, Miss Mortimer. You may feel you have to answer to my mother, but I insist on knowing what goes on.’
‘And do you always get what you want?’
Jane watched his dark brows lift in surprise at her impertinence and she could not suppress a hint of satisfaction.
‘Usually,’ he replied. ‘Perhaps because I am a heartless, inconsiderate, arrogant monster. Or so I have been told.’
Having her own words quoted back to her was a bit disconcerting, but if he expected an apology he was going to be disappointed.
‘All aristocrats are the same,’ he went on. ‘I suppose it’s down to the way we were raised. It comes with a lifetime of being surrounded by people who wait upon our every whim. Do not expect an earl to behave otherwise.’
‘With you as an example, Lord Lansbury, I assure you I will not. And if you are reminding me of your lofty rank to try to intimidate me, then please don’t. It will have no effect on me whatsoever. Earls, dukes, call them what you like, are not the sun around which the world revolves. What I did in London—offering you money—was stupid beyond belief. I realise that now.’
‘It was. I did not put you down as being reckless.’
‘I am not. I am impulsive at times, but never reckless. It was quite out of character for me. But Lady Lansbury has been so kind to me—and I have become extremely fond of Lady Octavia. When I realised how wealthy I am—I thought I might be able t
o help in some way. I assure you, Lord Lansbury, I had no ulterior motive when I made you that offer and it was quite wrong of you to assume otherwise. It was hardly my fault if you jumped to the wrong conclusion. Unfortunately I hadn’t thought it through.’
‘Clearly. I hope you understand my reasons for refusing your—generous offer. Try to see it from my point of view. Had I accepted, I should have lost all respect for myself—and for you, too, for putting me in a position of feeling obligated to you and for that I should not forgive you.’
‘Yes, I can see that now. Believe me, Lord Lansbury, the last thing I wanted was for you to feel obligated to me in any way.’
‘Good,’ he said, walking slowly back to stand in front of her, ‘and since you are so concerned about Chalfont, you will be pleased to know that things are beginning to improve. After meetings with my lawyer and the bank manager and several other people who are involved with the running of the estate, I find I do not have to sell the town house after all.’
‘Then I am happy for you, but please do not feel you have anything to explain to me.’
‘I don’t. I just thought you would like to know.’
‘Lady Lansbury must be relieved.’
‘Very much so. However, that said, I want to thank you for your offer—which I should have done when you approached me, instead of losing my temper, for which I apologise.’
There was silence, a silence occupied by Jane in examining what Lord Lansbury had just said. She was astonished. She stared into those clear eyes, searching for mockery, veiled contempt, but found neither. A formidable, exacting man he might be, equal to any risks, brave enough for anything, but one thing he would not do—he would never deal dishonestly with himself or others. There was no arguing with such determination.
‘Thank you,’ she said at length. ‘I, too, lost my temper—which does not happen very often. I accept your apology.’
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