Page 146

“Please, won’t you come in, Aunt Serena?” Jane invited smoothly, nodding to Millicent and Mr. Burry to include them as well. "Mrs. Phibbs has your rooms ready.”

“Thank you, my dear. I admit I am quite fagged. Though the roads these days are much improved, traveling just does not agree with my constitution.”

Jane released the boys to scamper down to the stables. "Yes, I understand that is a condition I may have to contend with when I reach your years,” she said blandly, turning to lead the small party into the house.

Lady Elsbeth frowned, Lady Serena looked nonplussed. Millicent chuckled. Lady Serena sent her a scathing look, which her daughter shrugged aside.

“We have planned a small party for this evening to celebrate your visit. Just a few of the neighbors for dinner with more arriving afterward for a little informal dancing,” Jane said as they approached the main staircase.

There stood Mrs. Phibbs with her retinue of maids ready to show their guests upstairs.

"I do hope you will be recovered by then?”

“How quaint,” Millicent cooed. "A country party. I swear I haven’t attended one since I was sixteen, before my come-out. I don’t suppose you have any important guests on your list? I doubt you even know the Earl of Royce, and he is the nearest neighbor, is he not?”

Jane looked back at Millicent to see her cousin smiling at her with treacle sweetness.

"Royce? Oh, indeed we do. He has been over every day the past week,” she said.

Not for a moment would she admit the objects of his attention have been her two nephews.

"But he was uncertain as to whether he would join us. It seems he is expecting a guest today and did not wish to make commitments for his friend without consulting him first. It may be that we do not see him at all until his guest has left,” Jane offered guilelessly, smiling graciously back at her cousin.

“We keep country hours here at Penwick Park, so dinner is at six. I hope that will not discommode you in any way? And do not worry about the rest of your party. I shall send a man out after the Willoughbys to see if he may be of assistance.” She paused to give Mrs. Phibbs a few quiet instructions, then turned to smile broadly at their guests.

It was that cold social smile that failed to reach and warm her eyes.

"Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some last details to go over with Cook. ”

Lady Elsbeth watched Jane walk away, realizing her niece would rather be running. She shook her head. "We shall send your servants up as soon as the carriages are unloaded. Mrs. Phibbs has directed that all irons be warmed so that your clothing can be pressed.”

“Damned thoughtful of you. Know my stocks will need a going-over. Always do after being packed away, unless I have a mind to be slovenly, which I tell you now I can’t abide. Never could, never would.” Mr. Burry released Millicent’s arm and rolled back on his heels.

“Of course you can’t, Burry dear,” soothed Lady Serena as they followed Mrs. Phibbs up the stairs.

Lady Elsbeth smiled stiffly, her head bobbing as she watched them ascend the stairs.

When they’d attained the first- floor landing, she relaxed and sighed deeply before turning to search for Jane.

She’d best remind her niece to keep her tongue between her teeth.

It didn’t do to go borrowing trouble. Particularly any that Serena could contrive.

Lord and Lady Willoughby, accompanied by Sir Garth Helmsdon, arrived some thirty minutes later.

Lord Willoughby was a surprisingly ugly brute of a man, who spoke with a dialect that reminded Jane of her Uncle Edward and his military cronies.

Lady Willoughby was a small, wiry woman who scarcely spoke above a rasping whisper, due, her spouse informed them, to a nearly fatal illness she’d suffered many years before.

In contrast to her ugly husband, she was a faded beauty for whom time’s touch had been gentle.

They all appeared tired, dusty, and more than a little disturbed by Serena’s cavalier manner of leaving them to their misfortune.

With scarcely a greeting for their hostesses, the Willoughbys retired upstairs.

Sir Helmsdon looked predisposed to talk, maneuvering Jane into a corner of the hall for just that purpose.

Luckily for Jane, her nephews chose that moment to return to the house.

They’d seen Sir Helmsdon’s long-tailed gray out in the yard and declared it a beautiful animal.

The boys rushed over to the horse’s owner, pummeling him with questions regarding the animal.

Jane smiled and murmured her excuses, then slipped out under his arm.

Her position was immediately supplanted by Edward, who wanted to know what weight he rode and how long the horse could carry him.

Their enthusiastic questions carried them in Sir Helmsdon’s wake as he followed Jeremy to his assigned room.

Elsbeth came to stand beside Jane as they watched the Willoughbys and Sir Helmsdon climb the stairs.

“It would appear Serena’s sterling character has already begun to tarnish,” she murmured in Jane’s ear.

“Yes, but she obviously could not hold the Willoughbys of much account. After all, they do not have an unmarried wealthy son for Millicent.”

“Then why their company?”

“I don’t know, but likely there is a reason—at least one that makes sense to Aunt Serena’s brand of logic.

Helmsdon concerns me more. He was quick to pursue private conversation.

I had hoped he would dangle after Millicent awhile longer.

That would have given me room and time to maneuver and plan my strategy. ”

“Jane, you talk as if this were one of Wellington’s campaigns!”

Jane sighed and hooked her arm in Elsbeth’s as they turned to walk to their new rooms. "The worst of it is, I have no experience in this type of battle, whereas Aunt Serena and Cousin Millicent are hardened, experienced field marshals."

"What you need is another hardened, experienced field marshal to offer advice.”

Jane laughed. "I’ll agree to that, but the country is not the place to find such veterans!”

“Ah, do not be so hasty. There is one near to hand. One who might just find it an amusing exercise.”

“Who? Surely you don’t mean Lord Royce!”

“Why not?”

“Elsbeth, do not be ridiculous, I pray you, please!”

“I am not ridiculous. Who better than a man to warn against another man’s stratagems?

Who better than a man who has successfully avoided the parson’s trap set for him by ambitious mamas?

Think, Jane. I know you thought to use him as an unknowing diversion.

Wouldn’t it be better to use him as a knowing one?

He is bored. He said so himself. This is just the stuff to appeal to his jaded fancy. ”

Jane’s brow furrowed, and she bit her lip as she thought over her aunt’s words. Bizarrely, they did make sense.

Abruptly she shook her head and removed her arm from Elsbeth’s. "No, it won’t answer. Remember, he has a guest visiting him now to assuage his boredom. He would not care to become involved in what he could only deem scheming feminine nonsense.”

“You don’t know that. But wait. Keep an open mind. Let’s see if he and his guest come to dinner. Time enough to evaluate our chances.”

Her niece nodded reluctantly, then smiled. It was a warm smile that made Jane’s ice-green eyes look like springtime.

Lady Elsbeth wished it were always spring and summer for Jane. That would be her campaign.

“Speaking of dinner, I had best turn myself over to Mrs. O'Rourke, or she will be prophesying a late appearance on my account!”

Lady Elsbeth looked down at the ornate gold-worked watch pinned to her bodice. "Oh dear me, yes. I hadn’t realized the time had grown so short! I had better move smartly if I wish to be ready before our guests.” Grabbing her skirts, she lifted them slightly to hurry down the long hall.

Her hand on the latch to her room, Jane watched her aunt, a loving smile softening her features. Too often, Lady Elsbeth adopted matronly airs. It was good to see she could at times give way to youthful impetuousness.

Millicent Hedgeworth had never been given to early, or even timely appearances.

She was a woman who loved making late grand entrances to garner attention.

It was with surprise then that Jane found her dressed and seated (or rather, ornamentally draped) upon a settee in the parlor.

The twilight sun streaming in the floor-to-ceiling window caught red-gold highlights in her brunette hair, creating a halo around her head.

Her face was in soft, flattering shadow.

She was dressed in a rose silk gown trimmed with pearls, lace, and knots of pale pink and moss-green ribbons.

The low décolletage revealed more than it covered of her creamy white breasts.

A patterned silk shawl of black, green and rose was draped negligently on one shoulder, but fell in a pool of shimmering color across her other arm.

It was a pose to send a painter into raptures.

Not being a painter, Jane was more amused than moved.

It occurred to her that in some ways she and her cousin were really alike, for she also dressed for effect.

After nodding to Millicent, Jane took a seat near the fireplace in a straight-backed Elizabethan chair of massive regal proportions.

It was a chair to match her regal, aloof manner.

Her gown was similarly chosen. It was of deep forest-green with only the glint of silver embroidery relieving its austere design.

In her more shadowed portion of the room, Jane appeared remote and inviolate.

The silence stretched between the women. Jane sat relaxed, a wax statue of a queen on her throne. Millicent’s pose grew cramped, and she began to fidget.

“So, cousin, how many are we to expect to your country entertainments?” Millicent asked, running the fringe of her shawl through her fingers.