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Jane glanced up, astonished. She exchanged smiles of surprised amusement with the earl.

Lady Serena saw Jane’s astonishment turning to laughter.

"Millicent is a delicate, refined creature,” she said archly, implying that Jane was not.

"She is devastated by the accident her fainting spell caused. Though I understand, after listening to the boys' ceaseless chatter, that the actual fault must lie with you, Sir Helmsdon. It was your toy that Lord Royce so unfortunately slipped on. Ah, well,” she continued quickly, refusing to allow Sir Helmsdon an answer, “there is no coin in consideration of what might have been. Now my poor Millicent bears two burdens: her ill health and her guilt. Not to mention the dreadful bruises I fear will show by morning. Poor child. Elsbeth, do you have some medicine that might also relieve my daughter’s suffering?”

Lady Elsbeth nodded. "When I’ve finished here,” she said shortly, not trusting herself to say more.

Lady Serena smiled. "Of course. Now, everyone out so my sister may tend to Lord Royce and afterward, dear Millicent.” She held the door open and looked pointedly at the others.

All but Jane and Lord Conisbrough moved to obey.

She pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow.

"Do you think it wise, Elsbeth, for Jane to stay in a man’s room? ” she said for all to hear.

“I require Jane’s assistance. The only problems I could foresee would be those created by malicious, unwarranted gossip. Be that as it may, Serena, what is it you expect the earl to do in his present state?”

Lady Serena spasmodically opened and closed her mouth like a landed fish. Then color rose up her neck, and her eyebrows pulled together. "There is no need to be crude, Elsbeth,” she said austerely, tossing her head in the air and leaving the room. The door closed smartly behind her.

Those left in the room were silent a moment, then burst into laughter.

“We should not laugh,” Lady Elsbeth said, taking a strip of cloth from Jane and winding it around the earl’s ankle. "Millicent may indeed be ill.”

“Elsbeth, I can assure you the only illnesses Millicent is suffering from are jealousy and embarrassment."

“You should be flattered, Miss Grantley,” said the earl, toasting her silently with his port glass.

Jane flushed. "Oh, not of me, my lord. Of my nephews. You were paying more attention to two ‘scrubby schoolroom brats’ than to her.”

The earl sighed heavily. "I knew it would somehow come around to being my fault,” he said ruefully.

“You would have done better to hit your ankle with a cricket bat,” Lord Conisbrough offered as he held up the injured member to allow Lady Elsbeth to bandage it.

“Oh, but this was so much more dramatic, I think!” Jane declared, her green eyes glinting.

"I do have a complaint with you over this, Lord Royce. You have quite spoiled my plans for tomorrow’s entertainments.

We were planning games and recreations for tomorrow.

My brother-in-law is a great sport and game enthusiast; consequently, Penwick is furnished with all manner of equipment.

Court tennis, pall mall, battledore and shuttlecock, shovelboard, archery?—”

“Enough, Miss Grantley!” Royce said, laughing. "I perceive my clumsiness was well-timed. Lady Elsbeth, how long will you have me trussed up in this manner?” he asked, waving his hand to indicate the thick bandage wrapped about his ankle.

Lady Elsbeth rinsed her hands of the salve.

"Not for long, my lord. You will be surprised, come morning, to discover that the ankle will begin to bear weight, though it will be best to avoid walking and to keep it as immobile as possible. The salve will take down most of the swelling and should soothe the ankle. I must apply the salve twice a day as long as any swelling exists, then once a day for two to three days more. Now I suggest you rest. Come, Jane, we’ve left our guests to their own devices far too long. ”

Jane nodded and began to move away from the bed only to feel her hand captured by a strong, masculine one. She looked around in confusion.

Royce smiled. It was a smile that reached his eyes, lighting the darkest, shadow-haunted corners. It was the roguish smile that gave truth to his nickname, the Devil’s Disciple. Jane felt a rush of liquid warmth surging through her body. Those strange prickly tingles followed it.

“Thank you,” he said softly. He grinned, then released her hand.

She nodded and turned to follow her aunt out the door, an unreasoning disappointment settling in the vicinity of her heart.

“O-o-h-h!” keened a low-voiced wail.

Jane was seated before the mirror brushing her hair. She turned her head, her eyebrows raised in patient amused inquiry, to look at Mrs. O'Rourke.

The woman had dragged the rocker into the warm morning sunlight that spilled into the room, savoring the sun’s warmth and the lulling motion of rocking. "I ken feel it in me pur joints,” she moaned. "There is wickedness afoot, there is.”

“The only wickedness lies in the port you consume,” drawled Jane. "That’s gout you’re feeling,” she continued unsympathetically, coiling her hair into a high coronet on top of her head.

“Nay, lass, it’s mortal danger yur in. I have the cursed sight, and well ye know it.”

“What I know is that you have been worse than useless to me this morning. No doubt our guests are already at breakfast. What a poor hostess that makes me! Besides, I’m famished!

” She shoved the last of the pins into place, then turned her head from side to side to evaluate her handiwork.

She preferred the side curls Mrs. O'Rourke typically coaxed from her hair, but the simple style she’d achieved would serve. She rose from the dressing table.

“Be warned! The clouds of darkness are gathering!” intoned Mrs. O'Rourke, increasing her rocking speed.

Jane glanced out at the bright, sunlit, cloudless sky and shook her head. "Ask Lady Elsbeth for something to ease the pain. And please, stay away from the bottle,” she said kindly before leaving the room.

“Trust in the Lord!” were the last words she heard. Jane shook her head ruefully, hoping Mrs. O'Rourke's foolishness was not a harbinger for the day.

Youthful screams and the trampling of running feet greeted Jane as she opened the heavy oak door leading out of her bedroom wing.

Careening wildly around a corner came Edward, screaming and laughing.

Behind him chased Bertram, threatening to collar him.

He was followed by a harassed and frightened Becky.

Jane grabbed Edward’s shoulder as he approached her and spun him about. "What is this all about?” she demanded as Bertram skittered to a halt beside them.

Bertram swiped at Edward, who ducked. His blow caught Jane on the forearm. "Sorry, Aunt Jane," he said as he made another swipe at his brother.

Jane caught his arm. "I will not have this kind of nonsense. What is going on between you two?”

“Oh, miss,” gasped Becky, her sides heaving from chasing the two boys. She gulped air. "Edward’s gone and touched Master Bertram’s butterfly collection.”

“I see. Has he harmed it?”

Bertram pouted and scuffed his feet. "He could have. And he was told never to touch it. He breaks everything.”

“Do not!”

“Do too!”

“Boys, boys! That is enough. Wasn’t Miss Twinkleham supposed to monitor your lessons this morning?”

“She’s sick,” Edward blurted. He glared at his brother. "Just because you’re older doesn’t mean you can punish me, either. That’s for adults to say,” he shouted belligerently, pushing at his brother’s arm.

“Edward, I said, that’s enough,” Jane repeated.

“What is all this noise?” complained Lady Serena, coming down the stairs.

She held her fingertips to her temples. "Already, it is giving me a headache. How can I coax my poor Millicent to come downstairs to lie on the chaise if all this noise persists?” She waved her hands in the direction of the boys.

"They belong upstairs in the schoolroom, not running about like wild animals among polite company.”

Jane put her arms around the boys’ shoulders. "They are merely displaying youthful exuberance,” Jane defended, drawing them closer. "They are at loose ends this morning because their nurse has taken ill.”

“What concern is that of mine? Surely others can care for them. Your concern should be with your guests. Really, Jane, you are not at all practical.” Lady Serena swept past them, her disgust and censure evident in every line of her body.

Jane glared at her retreating back and shook her head. She bent down to talk with the boys quietly. "This is not a good day for Nurse to be sick. Why don’t you ask Cook for a special treat, then go outside for a while.”

“Can we go up to the Folly?” asked Bertram.

“If Becky goes with you. And this time, there will be no running off alone or climbing trees.” She patted them on the shoulders and pushed them in the direction of the kitchen.

Sir Helmsdon met her as she was about to enter the breakfast parlor.

“A word with you, Miss Grantley?” he asked. "In private.”

Jane raised an eyebrow but agreed, leading him into the library.

Her stomach rumbled in protest. She hoped he did not hear it.

She usually never ate much in the mornings, but the previous day’s activities had robbed her of an appetite when they sat down to dinner.

This morning she was inelegantly reminded of that circumstance.

She took a seat in one of the chairs before the fireplace and invited him to sit opposite.

Sir Helmsdon flipped the tails of his morning coat up and sat on the edge of the seat, one leg stretched out before the other. "Miss Grantley, will you marry me?” he asked without preamble.

Jane blinked, then rallied. "We have been through this before. No, Sir Helmsdon, I will not.”