by Carola Dunn
“I hope you will not, sir,” said Jane with low-voiced indignation. “I had rather lose honestly than win by default.”
He smiled at her. “Never fear, Miss Brooke, I shall consider it an honour to defeat a bluestocking.”
“You are very confident!”
“Not, I promise you, because you are a female, but because I have several years’ more experience.”
“That is true,” she conceded, moving a pawn forward. “Besides, I am not really a bluestocking.”
His smile broadened to a grin. “Are you not? Pray don’t tell my aunt. She will be sadly disillusioned.”
“I would not disappoint her for the world.” In a louder voice, she continued, “Chess is thought to be of Indian origin, is it not, my lord?”
“I believe the game was introduced into China from India, though it may be of Persian origin. Certainly, in this set the pieces we would call bishops appear to be Buddhist monks, and Buddhism is an Indian religion, not Persian.”
Jane knew next to nothing about Persia and not much more about China. She steered the conversation to Indian beliefs and customs, having read two or three books on the subject when the Hornby vicar’s son had gone off to India to make his fortune. The earl gravely followed her lead, a smile lurking in his eyes. She knew he was as conscious as she was of Lady Wintringham’s ill-hidden satisfaction in hearing her opinion of the upstart Miss Brooke borne out.
Her ladyship’s frosty face almost cracked in a smile when her nephew declared checkmate after an unequal struggle.
“You were not concentrating,” Lord Wintringham consoled Jane sotto voce. “You were too busy convincing my aunt of your bluestocking credentials.”
“Yes, but you would have won anyway. You are by far the better player. If we were to stay here longer, I should ask for lessons.”
“Who knows, perhaps the fog will persist for a fortnight.”
Did he sound hopeful? With regret, Jane dismissed the possibility.
CHAPTER NINE
“The fog’s thinning, my lord.’’
Edmund strode to the window of his dressing-room and pulled aside the curtain. The haloed moon shone down through a thin curtain of swirling mist. “So it is, Alfred.” He strove to keep the disappointment out of his voice.
Apparently he succeeded. “’Spect you’ll be glad to see the back o’ that lot,” said his valet gloomily. “The Mail coachman already went off to arrange to pick ’em up tomorrow.”
“You don’t sound pleased.”
“The truth is, I’ve taken a proper fancy to Miss Gracechurch’s maid, my lord.” He sighed as he poured hot water into the basin on the washstand. “Well, there ain’t no future in it, and that’s a fact.”
“Perhaps you’ll be able to see her in Town. Why don’t you ask for her direction?” For some reason, the thought cheered Edmund.
Alfred also brightened. “I’ll do that, my lord. We’ll be going to London, then?”
“I have some business that will take us up at some point this spring. In April, perhaps. Will Miss Gracechurch be there so long?’’
“I dunno. Acsherly, I don’t even know if she’ll be staying in Town or going on somewhere else. Ella don’t happen to have mentioned it.”
“Well, find out, man.” His spirits sank again. Even if Miss Gracechurch were to take up residence in London, her young friend might find a position anywhere in the country. Not that Miss Jane Brooke’s situation affected him in the slightest, except that he felt it a pity such a lively damsel should be destined to become a governess.
Alfred was helping him into his coat when Fitz knocked on the door and came in.
“The fog will be gone by morning,” he announced. “My man tells me the Mail coachman has already gone to report the accident.”
“So I understand. Doubtless he will return with another vehicle to pick up his passengers.”
“Miss Gracechurch and Miss Brooke will be leaving. You said you’d think up a way to reward them for helping Daphne. Any ideas?”
“The more I see of them, the more certain I am that to offer money would offend them.” Edmund pondered a moment. “I suggest you lend your carriage to carry them to London. They will travel in far greater comfort and avoid incidental expenses along the way.”
Fitz beamed. “That’s a devilish good notion, Ned. I’ll give my coachman enough blunt to pay the reckoning for their meals and such.”
“He will be able to tell you where they are staying, and perhaps when you go up to Town you’ll discover further ways to assist them.’’ He affected not to see Alfred’s wink and broad grin. No doubt his valet also would extract Miss Gracechurch’s—and her maid’s—direction from Fitz’s coachman.
“Yes, I daresay Daphne will be able to help Miss Brooke find a good post,” said Fitz with satisfaction.
* * * *
“The fog’s nearly gone, Miss Jane.”
“Oh no, is it?” Jane sped to her chamber window and parted the curtains. A bright star twinkled down at her and not far off the winter skeleton of a tall beech stood wreathed in moonlit veils of mist. “Bother! I suppose we shall have to leave tomorrow.”
“Don’t you want to, my lady?” Surprised, Ella reverted to her mistress’s title. “Miss, I mean. I thought you was that keen to get to London.”
“I was. I am. But not when My Lord Winter is just beginning to thaw. He was agreeable all afternoon.”
Agreeable to Jane, at least. He had thoroughly snubbed the impervious Ramsbottom and poor, sensitive Mr. Reid. She suspected he did not do it deliberately, with intent to hurt. His usual manner was enough to rebuff most people. She had hoped that, given another few days, she might persuade him to adopt a less freezing demeanour.
She said as much to Gracie when she joined her in her bedchamber.
“My dear, a man’s nature is not so easily changed.”
“I don’t believe he is cold by nature. It’s more like a suit of armour he puts on.”
“To protect himself from the world?”
“To keep the world at a distance, rather. Armour is the wrong word.”
“If he wishes to keep the world at a distance, no doubt he has his own reasons. You had best not interfere, Jane.”
“I shall have no opportunity, since we must leave tomorrow,” she said discontentedly.
They went down to the drawing-room. Fitz rushed up to them, his good-natured face complacent.
“Ladies, allow me to offer my carriage to take you to London tomorrow.”
“You are very eager to see the last of us, my lord,” Jane teased.
“No, no, nothing of the sort, I assure you. In fact, I left Lavinia moaning to Daphne that she won’t know how to go on without you. Miss Brooke. You see,” he added in a low voice, glancing behind him, “being confined to her bed, Daphne won’t be able to support Lavinia against all the other females as you have.”
“Lady Fitzgerald will soon be up and about,” Miss Gracechurch assured him. “She is rapidly recovering her strength.”
“Do you think so, ma’am? By Jove, I wish you was staying. Dash it, you need not leave so soon after all. My carriage can take you any time.”
Jane looked hopefully at Gracie, but that lady shook her head. “We must not trespass on Lady Wintringham’s hospitality, sir.”
“Lord, I should say not. It don’t bear thinking of. You will accept my carriage, though, won’t you? I shan’t be going anywhere till Daphne’s fit to travel—and my cattle need the exercise,” he added with an air of inspiration.
This time Gracie nodded and Jane said, “You are very kind, my lord. We shall be glad to accept.”
“Good, that’s settled then. I’ll go and give my coachman his orders right away. Ten o’clock suit you? It’s four or five hours’ drive, so you will arrive in broad daylight.”
As Fitz went off to find his coachman, a sudden thought struck Jane. Aghast, she turned to Gracie.
“But if his carriage takes us to St. James’s Place, ever
yone will know who I am!”
“So we shall not go directly to your father’s house, my dear. We can go to an inn or, if you have no objection, we might take up Mr. Selwyn and hire a hackney from his house.”
“Will he not think it odd?” Jane said doubtfully.
Miss Gracechurch blushed. “I fear he already knows your secret. He guessed the greater part and I...I trusted him with the rest. He will not give you away.”
Before Jane could respond, Lord Wintringham came towards them. “I hope you have accepted the offer of Fitz’s carriage,” he said. “I should have lent you mine but that it is already promised to my cousin Neville.”
Jane gave Gracie a triumphant glance. His lordship, she felt, had proved that his nature was amiable. “Thank you, sir,” she said, “we are to go in Lord Fitzgerald’s carriage. Do you suppose he would mind if we invited Mr. Selwyn to travel with us?”
“Mr. Selwyn? I cannot imagine that Fitz will object, but I trust you do not mean to pile the rest of your fellow-passengers on the roof.”
Laughing, Jane assured him that the thought had crossed her mind, only to be reluctantly dismissed.
Lavinia came in, followed by the two students. She began to bemoan Jane’s departure. “I wish we could go, too,” she complained. “Daphne is perfectly well. I am sure she is fit to travel.”
“Not for at least a fortnight,” said Miss Gracechurch firmly.
“Then Fitz could take me to Town now and come back to fetch Daphne later.”
The earl withered her with a contemptuous query: “You would leave your sister alone, and confined to her chamber, in a household you find uncongenial?”
Crimson-cheeked, Lavinia flounced off on Bob Hancock’s arm. Lord Wintringham’s amiability was not to be relied upon, Jane reflected.
Though uneasy in his lordship’s presence, Mr. Reid lingered. “I wish I had purchased an inside seat,” he murmured wistfully to Jane, “but at least we shall meet at the inns.”
“I fear not.” She explained to him about Fitz’s offer. He looked so disappointed, she patted his arm consolingly. Lord Wintringham frowned.
Mr. Reid’s expression denoted an internal struggle. Jane suspected a conflict between his strict notions of the proper behaviour towards ladies and a desire to ask for her direction. She could not tell him, yet she did not want to snub him, so she started talking about the route to London. She had heard that Henley was a very pretty place, and she longed to view the magnificent prospect of Windsor Castle, of which she had a woodcut at home.
“It is visible from the turnpike road, is it not?” she asked the earl.
He assured her that it was visible, and impressive, from a great distance. At that moment, Lady Wintringham entered the drawing-room. Jane at once asked an earnest question about the history of the castle. She could tell by the amused gleam in his lordship’s eye as he answered, at length, that he knew she was doing her best to keep up her character as a bluestocking.
He took her in to dinner. Mr. Reid succeeded in seating himself on her other side, and during the second course he did his best to manoeuvre her into disclosing where she was to stay in Town, without asking outright. She out-manoeuvred him with ease, diverting the conversation to the amusements of the metropolis.
As she expected, his tastes ran to such entertainments as Astley’s Amphitheatre, steamboat rides on the Thames, and balloon ascensions. Jane hoped—silently—that she would have time between balls and routs to enjoy such pleasures.
When she turned back to Lord Wintringham, she found him sombre. This she put down to his other neighbour, his sister, who was still in the sulks. However, he failed to respond to her overtures, so she finished her meal in discouraged silence. Their relationship had returned to its initial state. Then, at that first dinner, she had forced him to talk to her. Now, she could not bring herself to make the effort. After tomorrow she would never see him again.
Or if she did, it would be to suffer his anger at her deception.
She was almost glad when, after dinner, Lavinia demanded her company in playing duets. Fitz, Reid, and Hancock gathered, around the pianoforte. Lord Wintringham took himself off to his library.
* * * *
“You have packed up all your ladies’ clothes already, have you, Miss Ella?”
“Aye, there weren’t much, seeing as you can’t take much on the Mail.”
“You’ll be travelling in style this time, in Lord Fitz’s carriage.”
“I liked it fine on the roof of the Mail. Cold, right enough, but you get a grand view, and atween the coachman and them two young gentlemen we had a lively time of it.”
“Did you, now! I wish you wasn’t going, Miss Ella. I’m going to miss you, and that’s the truth.”
“Well, now, I don’t say as I won’t miss you too, Mr. Alfred. Ever so kind and helpful, you’ve been.”
“My pleasure, I’m sure. You know what—his lordship says we’ll be going up to Town sometime. I’d like fine to see you again.’’
“Get on with you!”
“I tell you no lie. Your Miss Gracechurch wouldn’t mind you walking out with me, would she?”
“That’s as may be, Mr. Alfred.”
“Go on, give us your direction, girl.”
“Lor, I couldn’t do that, not for the world.”
“Why not? Aren’t I good enough for you?”
“Plenty good enough, and I’m not saying I wouldn’t like to see you, but... Tell you what, you give me your direction and maybe I’ll get in touch one of these fine days.”
“Wintringham House, in Grosvenor Square. Just leave a message with the butler. He’s starchy as old Bradbury but he’ll see I get it. Promise you will?”
“I’m not promising nothing, and it’s no good looking Friday-faced.”
“I won’t look Friday-faced no more if you’ll give me a kiss, Ella.”
“My, hark at the saucy fella! Well all right, Alfred, but just one, mind, and watch out for my tatting.”
* * * *
The earl did not appear in the breakfast room while Jane was there. She refused to believe he would not say goodbye. Nonetheless, as she went upstairs to put on her cloak she tried to think of an excuse to seek him out.
The excuse lay waiting for her, in the shape of the book on the dressing-table. It must be returned to the library, and of all places in the vast house his lordship was most likely to be there.
Quickly donning the brown cloak, she hurried down again. The library was empty, even when she checked the deep, concealing chairs by the fireplace. Disconsolate, she set the book on the table and wandered over to the window. She had seen nothing but fog from it before, but now she discovered that it overlooked the broad sweep of drive in front of the wide marble steps up to the front door.
A sound behind her made her turn round, hopefully. Mr. Reid approached her with tentative steps, his gangling form rendered more solid by the three capes of his greatcoat.
“The coach will be here any minute,” he said. “Miss Brooke—Jane—I must see you in London.”
“I’m sorry, it’s impossible.”
“But I don’t care if you’re going to be a governess. I love you!”
To her astonishment, he clumsily enveloped her in his arms and bent his head, his lips pursed, with the evident intention of kissing her. She turned her head and the inexpert kiss landed on her temple. Her face buried in his lapel, she uttered a muffled protest.
He squawked and released her. Lord Wintringham had him by the collar.
“Well, really!” Jane would have delved into her memory for some of her brother’s choicer epithets if the earl had not been present. “I must say I had thought better of you, Mr. Reid. You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”
His face scarlet, he stammered a contrite apology. His lordship, looking grim, let go, and he fled from the library.
Jane’s indignation gave way to embarrassment. “Very young gentlemen can be such nodcocks,” she said uncertainly.
&nb
sp; “You prefer experience?” The earl’s strong arm encircled her waist, his hand raised her chin, his enigmatic grey eyes penetrated, dominated her will, held her motionless and robbed her of breath. His mouth descended on hers, hot, demanding, insistent.
She melted in his embrace, clinging to his broad shoulders. He loved her! Her doubts, her perplexity, her misgivings about his character began to fade like will-o’-the-wisps in the sunlight.
Feather-light, his kisses caressed her cheek and fluttered across her brow. He pulled her closer, crushing her against his hard-muscled body. A fire ignited within her—and alarm awoke.
“No!” No, he didn’t love her. He thought she craved his familiarities, preferring the attentions of a wealthy earl to those of a green boy scarce loosed from his mother’s apron-strings. She had forgotten that to him she was no lady, just an unprotected girl with her way to make in the world. “No!” she cried again, and wrenched herself from his arms.
He made no attempt to detain her. As she tried to pin up her dishevelled hair, he stood watching her, his gaze brooding.
“I ought to scream,” she said in a shaky voice, “or swoon, or slap your face.’’
His lips, so lately tender, curled in contempt. “Why don’t you?”
She swung away from those piercing eyes. Outside the window, a travelling carriage with crested doors was pulling up before the steps.
“Lord Fitzgerald’s carriage.” Gathering the shreds of her tattered dignity about her, Jane raised the hood of her cloak and stalked towards the door, saying haughtily as she went, “Some gentlemen of all ages never reach the age of reason.”
Had she glanced behind her, she might have been surprised by My Lord Winter’s wryly troubled smile.
CHAPTER TEN
“You have grown monstrous tall, I vow. A regular maypole.” The Marchioness of Hornby regarded Jane with a moue of distaste. Herself a golden-haired pocket Venus, she had for half a decade laid claim to the nine-and-twenty years she had in fact attained a full decade ago. A daughter of twenty, even if passed off as eighteen, was going to be a sore trial to her.
