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T he next afternoon Jane wandered into the stillroom, a sheaf of papers in her hand and a frown pulling her brows together. "I think a dinner followed by dancing is what we should plan for the day our guests arrive.”

Lady Elsbeth did not look up from the herbs she was grinding between mortar and pestle. "If you say so, my dear, I certainly have no objection; however, I thought you intended to plan country entertainments that Serena would dislike. I doubt she will fault dinner and dancing.”

“I know, but I have decided our first task is to turn her attention from my state of spinsterhood. If we include Lord Royce in our invitation, Aunt Serena and Millicent will be diverted before they implement whatever devious plans they have for me.”

“Gracious! How can you be sure they possess devious plans?”

Jane shrugged and laid her papers on the workbench. "They did once. I see no reason for them not to do so again.”

Lady Elsbeth pursed her lips, studying her niece.

The afternoon sun, streaming in the high narrow windows of the cool, subterranean stillroom, bathed Jane in a glow of light.

Oh, how she wished to be in Jane’s confidence!

She was so outwardly self-assured, yet inwardly she hurt from some disappointment unknown to Elsbeth.

Possibly it was suffering caused by the very contretemps lying between her and Serena.

No matter, little by little, she would discover the particulars.

She only hoped it would be sooner than later, for she placed no confidence in the earl dancing attendance on Millicent.

As the widow of David Hedgeworth, Millicent possessed wealth, but nothing compared with Jane’s holdings.

Being, as she understood from the voluble Mrs. Chitterdean, on a repairing lease, Lord Royce could well turn his attention to Jane as the wealthier of the two, and that would certainly set the cat amongst the pigeons.

And she could envision that circumstance, for though she deplored the public persona Jane adopted in London society, she was dismayed to perceive it was faltering in the earl’s company.

She had never witnessed that before. It boded ill.

“Pass me that bottle of oil, if you please, Jane,” said Lady Elsbeth calmly. "What other plans are you making?”

“An alfresco breakfast on the terrace followed by some games, such as pall mall, or an old-fashioned round of battledore and shuttlecock. Then perhaps we’ll encourage the gentlemen to play court tennis, billiards, or shovel board, activities that will keep them together and away from the ladies.”

“Serena will not find favor with that circumstance.”

“Precisely.”

“It might work,” Lady Elsbeth said while measuring the mixture into a clean glass bottle.

“Of course, it will work particularly since I intend to encourage the children’s company during all our daytime activities. If I know those boys, they will take Lady Tipton’s measure soon enough and delight in plaguing her."

“Jane! I will not have those boys playing nasty tricks like—like toads in beds or—or worms in drinks.”

Jane laughed. "Rest assured, though I have no love for my Aunt Serena, I would not descend to that level. After all, she is my mother’s sister, and I know Mama would disapprove of such measures. No, I will merely encourage them to be attentive.”

Lady Elsbeth shook her head doubtfully. "You have a devious mind. I wonder why I never noted it before.”

“Devious?” Jane laughed, her green eyes shining like emeralds. "If I am, my relations have proved apt teachers. Between Aunt Serena and Cousin Millicent with their machinations, and Bertram and Edward with their high pranks. I’ve had a liberal education.”

Lady Elsbeth raised an eyebrow. She shook fresh herbs into her mortar and continued working her pestle in thoughtful silence.

Jane wandered over to a long, narrow shelf lined with varicolored glass bottles. Absently she began straightening the haphazard row, her fingers leaving tracks against the smooth patina of dust. Her mind turned fretfully to the memory of her meeting with the earl.

“Jane, hand me that other vial of oil, would you please, dear? The one on the end,” Lady Elsbeth said, grinding the herbs in her stone bowl one last time before laying aside her pestle on the workbench.

She picked up the slender green glass bottle and carried it over to her aunt.

"Elsbeth,” she began pensively, “what is the story behind Lord Royce? I mean, is he really as villainous as I’ve heard?

Some of the tales are ten years old if they’re a day, and not every telling has quite agreed on the facts. ”

“The Devil’s Disciple?” Lady Elsbeth Ainstree smiled wryly as she took the bottle from Jane. "Not knowing what you’ve heard, I cannot say; however, it has been my experience that tales grow with the telling. Still, it was a particularly nasty story even before time’s embroidery.”

She uncorked the bottle and carefully poured a few drops onto the crushed herbs in the bowl.

She recorked the bottle and resumed her work with the herbs.

"I remember the incident that sparked the scandal, for it involved the younger sister of a friend of mine. I felt greatly sorry for my friend during the episode. It made a terrible scandal.”

“What exactly happened? I was only what? Ten at the time? I didn’t know anything of it then, of course, but it was one of the first tales I heard after my come-out.”

Lady Elsbeth’s hands slowed, and the expression in her soft hazel eyes grew pensive as she thought back on that time ten years ago.

"I was twenty-three and spending most of my time with my brother, your Uncle Hereward, and his family.

I was not part of the social whirl. I think it was measles that time that your cousins had, I mean.

"Royce, who had inherited the title from his father three years before, was a Corinthian even at twenty-two. He lived and spent freely. He was wild to a fault, up to every rig and row imaginable. He didn’t care a groat for what scandalized society.

It was all so much grist for the mill. Of course, at that time, the Royce family fortune must have seemed immense and inexhaustible.

I have heard it said that his wild behavior resulted from the repressive childhood he endured.

Certainly, his mother, Lady Aurelia Morecaster, had no time for children.

I believe the tale he told the boys about his mother leaving to visit friends so she wouldn’t have to hear him cry out in anguish or pain.

She talked incessantly, I remember, about her sensibilities. "

Remembering the earl’s comment about his lack of sensibilities and wondering if that came as a result of his mother’s excesses, Jane’s lips drew together in a moue of distaste.

“Eventually, he ran off to Europe with Vivian Montrechet. Vivian was a gay, starry-eyed seventeen-year-old in her first season. From all tales, she was very popular with the gentlemen. I believe your Uncle Edward even dangled after her for a time. She only had eyes for the Royce title and wealth.”

“Why did he leave the country and not come back until now?”

Elsbeth sighed."Royce was a hot-headed scoundrel and became embroiled in more than one duel. The last was with Mr. Quarrels and involved an accusation of cheating at cards. To Royce’s credit, I will say the charge was leveled at Quarrels.

Anyway, Royce severely injured the man. For a time, it was doubtful he would live.

It was strongly suggested to Royce that he go abroad in case Quarrels succumbed to his wounds, for which there might have been legal repercussions. ”

“Do not tell me this Mr. Quarrels was Mr. Jonah Quarrels?”

Lady Elsbeth laughed. "I see I will not have to.”

“So where Royce failed, young Mr. Drummond succeeded?” Jane said dryly.

“If one could call mutual misfortune success.”

“I can understand why he left, but why did he remain exiled when it was seen that Mr. Quarrels would recover?”

Lady Elsbeth shook her head and shrugged.

"Possibly because he did not go abroad alone.

Vivian Montrechet accompanied him, and the story was that he lured her with marital promises, which he promptly renounced, or merely forgot, once her reputation was in tatters.

They gadded about the continent. Then—oh, I believe it was some two to three years later—Vivian gave birth to a boy.

“But, even with an heir at hand, Royce refused to legitimize the child.

And shortly after that, Vivian disappeared.”

One raven eyebrow rose. "Disappeared? Oh, come now, Elsbeth. These days people do not just disappear. I will admit I have heard varying tales, but to say she simply disappeared? That is too much like one of those Gothic novels! I heard that he grew tired of her and ruthlessly turned her out, but he kept the child, callously refusing the mother egress to her offspring.”

Lady Elsbeth smiled. "To be sure, it makes a better lesson told that way,” she offered dryly, her hazel eyes twinkling. "But I confess, over the years, I have not been in circumstances conducive to hearing gossip.”

Jane folded her arms across her chest and leaned back against the workbench. She tilted her head. "But what of the child? I’ve heard the boy died at three.”

Lady Elsbeth nodded. "Perhaps fortuitously.”

“Elsbeth!”

Distracted, Lady Elsbeth ran long fingers through her short, brown curls. "I’m sorry, my dear, but think—the child was a bastard and not even a publicly acknowledged one at that. The son of a rakehell and a woman who was no better. What sort of life would he have had?”

Jane refused to contemplate that question. Instead, she asked, “How did he die?”

“That is a question that has much occupied society, and speculation has not always run to natural or ill-health causes.”

Jane shivered. "The man’s history makes him a monster! How could you even countenance him at our tea yesterday? I’m sorry, Elsbeth. If I had known ...”