Page 136

T he words spilled out of her mouth before Jane could stop them.

She felt herself blushing anew. Exasperated, she marshaled all her emotions and drew on her cool society cloak.

The earl was observing her far more closely than she liked.

"We will, of course, understand if you choose not to join us for our little early tea, as it is a gathering in which we include the children. More in the way of a divertissement for them, you understand, before they adjourn to the nursery for their supper and evening ablutions.”

The earl frowned. "And should that sway my decision?”

“That I cannot answer, my lord.” Jane smiled faintly.

It was her social smile, for she concluded that no gentleman of fashion, let alone a dissolute rake like Lord Royce, would deign to participate in what could only be considered a nursery meal.

Her invitation would be refused, and that would be the end of it. There was no need for agitation.

“Then I accept, Miss Grantley,” Lord Royce said smoothly, and the smile he returned was the devil’s own.

Jane blinked, dumbfounded, then rallied.

"Very well,” she returned briskly, thoroughly nettled as much by his smile as by his answer.

"I see you have your horse tethered nearby.

I leave you to ride to Penwick Park while I return through the woods.

My aunt, Lady Elsbeth Ainstree, will entertain you until the boys and I are fit to join you for tea. "

“And here I was anticipating taking you up before me on Brutus. You have dashed all my hopes and expectations, Miss Grantley,” the earl teased.

Jane refused to be drawn. "It would be neither seemly nor comfortable. Thank you for your offer, but I must refuse.”

“Winter in the summertime! I see I shall have to look to Lady Elsbeth and your nephews for comfortable conversation, for the Ice Witch has returned.” He bowed formally to Jane, but amusement lingered in the depths of his dark eyes.

"At Penwick Park then, Miss Grantley,” he said in farewell before he turned to retrieve the reins of his horse.

He mounted and touched his hat briefly in salute before wheeling the animal around to trot down the lane.

Jane stamped her foot in frustration. The Earl of Royce was the most disagreeable man ever to enter her orbit.

That he found amusement at the expense of others was unpardonable.

His good humor toward Bertram and Edward was surely an aberration of character, no doubt engendered by the recent receipt of some good news.

Perhaps a horse he’d bet on had won a race, or perchance a debt owed him had been repaid, making him magnanimous and pleasant for a change.

Why had she so rashly and foolishly invited him to tea?

A slight pout marred the porcelain perfection of her features.

For some mysterious reason, the man’s mere presence shredded the social cloak she’d worn for so many years.

Perhaps, she considered as she stared off down the empty road, she’d become too complacent in her adopted mien.

She’d have to work to mend the rents and reinforce the seams, for she was not going to allow herself a relapse into the uncertain, hurt young woman she’d been three years ago.

But why was she staring after him like some country bumpkin?

And if the earl could so destroy her cool fa?ade, she hated to think of her aunt’s response to his sardonic demeanor.

Royce’s appearance at Penwick Park would no doubt fluster Elsbeth and reduce her to a timid mouse.

Oh, to foreswear her ready tongue! She must protect Lady Elsbeth from her folly, she resolutely decided.

Whirling around, she ran back to the manor, entering through a discreet side door.

Childish giggles and laughter greeted Jane’s ears as she descended the stairs after changing her gown and righting the wild tangle of her hair.

She crossed the Great Hall to the parlor door, her satin slippers making no sound.

Judging by the amused expression of the footman eavesdropping by the door, she could tell that the occupants of the parlor were enjoying themselves.

“Jeremy, the door please?” she said, standing before the footman who had temporarily assumed the duties of the butler.

Jeremy straightened abruptly, stammering a disjointed excuse.

Jane ignored his words, her lips slightly pursed to refrain from laughing. Jeremy had much to learn about the proper etiquette of a butler. "The door,” she reminded him gently, pointing to it.

The young man reddened and quickly pushed open the double carved-oak doors, bowing curtly to Jane as she swept by him into the large parlor with its unusual floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the park to the Folly in the distance.

The late afternoon sunlight, streaming into the large room, placed its occupants in a shadowy silhouette.

The Earl of Royce sat in the middle of the long settee, flanked on either side by a child.

That he was enjoying their company was obvious, even though the shadows made his facial expression indiscernible.

Jane paused, frowning in confusion, uncertain how to interpret the scene, for it so strongly worked against her expectations.

As she stood facing the windows, her face was open to the afternoon sun, her expression visible to all.

On seeing her, the earl rose from his seat and urged the boys to follow his example. They did so with alacrity.

Expressions of surprise, amazement, and curiosity chased across Jane’s unguarded countenance. The earl bowed, as did the boys, and Lady Elsbeth, seated on a japanned and gilded chair with her workbasket at hand, choked down a laugh.

“There you are, Jane,” said her aunt in a tone light with contained mirth. "I feared you would not join us.”

Recovering her calm mask, Jane acknowledged the earl’s presence and murmured some apologies to all as she slid gracefully into a chair next to her aunt.

Lady Elsbeth poured her a cup of tea. "I forbade the boys and our guest the blackberries until you could join us. I felt it only proper that you have the first taste, as they are your treat."

“I believe Miss Grantley has already availed herself of a taste. Among other things,” the earl drawled as he sat down again. "I distinctly remember a dark purple cast to her lips when I met her this morning."

Now that she was seated among them, Jane could see the smirk on the earl’s face and realized he’d tasted the berries on her lips. A slight blush stained her cheeks.

“I will admit I lacked forbearance,” murmured Jane wryly, catching the earl’s eye.

The slight elevation of one of his dusky brows prompted her to add, “A vice I find universal. Now, Elsbeth,” she said briskly, perturbed by the earl yet determined to ignore these strange sensations, “since you have waited, allow me to do the honor of serving.”

She deftly divided the small harvest into five bowls, then picked up a silver creamer. "My lord?” she asked coolly, holding the creamer over one of the bowls.

“If you please. Miss Grantley.”

“Judging from the laughter I heard as I descended the stairs, I gather my prolonged absence was not missed,” Jane remarked as she handed the earl a bowl of berries.

“I beg to differ with you, Miss Grantley. You were certainly missed,” the earl returned with a smooth, practiced gallantry that made the skin around Jane’s mouth tighten. "But I must confess, the laughter you heard was, lamentably, at my expense.”

The wry expression he bestowed on her nephews sent the children into renewed gales of laughter, keeping Jane from making a peevish comment.

In awkward defense, she tried to look at him archly but only succeeded in appearing adorably confused.

Worse was the realization that the horrible man seemed to know her thoughts and feelings and found humor in them!

“Lord Royce has been regaling the boys with some of his more youthful exploits. Though perhaps it would have been best if he had refrained from giving them ideas,” Lady Elsbeth said pointedly, fixing her nephews in turn with a meaningful stare.

“More to the point, Lady Elsbeth,” Royce interceded, “are the punishments that were meted out. Though I must admit, on more than one occasion, my punishments were self-inflicted.”

“What do you mean, my lord?” asked Edward, screwing up his face in perplexity, his feet swinging against a leg of the settee.

“He’s just teasing, you nodcock,” said Bertram disgustedly. "Lords don’t get punished.”

The earl leaned back, the better to assay Bertram. "I beg to differ with you, young master,” drawled the earl. "Not only are lords punishable, sometimes they bear punishment, beyond physical scars, their entire lives.”

Jane and Lord Royce exchanged covert glances over the heads of the boys. "The most valuable possession a man has is his good name. Lose that, and you’re punished day in and day out for all your life.”

Jane squirmed under his steady regard, for in his stare she read the real truth of his words, a truth that somehow cut at her heart. Elsbeth pursed her lips, her eyelids drooping over her soft hazel eyes as she feigned renewed interest in her embroidery.

“How can you lose a name? I mean, it’s not like a marble,” Edward said.

The earl laughed, ruffling the boy’s hair. "It means to lose the good opinion that people have of you.”

“Oh, is that all?” Edward said disgustedly.