Page 13 of The Defiant Governess (Intrepid Heroines #6)

Suddenly, the marquess spoke directly to her. “Do you always wear spectacles?”

“Why, n-no,” she faltered. “That is, they’re rather new and I don’t need them all the time.”

“Perhaps they are not suited to you.”

“Why is that?” She was curious as to why he would remark on it.

“Because you appear to be squinting most of the time. Maybe you would be more comfortable if you removed them.”

Flustered, Jane plucked them off her nose and shoved them into her pocket.

“An improvement,” murmured Saybrook, a slight twitch at the corners of his mouth.

“How would you know that?” she demanded.

“To your appearance,” he shot back.

Jane lowered her eyes to her plate. So that was his plan in inviting her to dine—to humiliate her in payment for what she had done that afternoon before he turned her out . She bit off any retort, determined not to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had rattled her.

When the final covers had been removed, Saybrook turned to Peter. “And what do you usually do until your bedtime?”

“Miss Langley has been teaching me to play chess.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Chess? How interesting. Why don’t you run along and set up the board in the drawing room while Miss Langley and I have a word together in the library.”

Jane rose wordlessly. No doubt he had been savoring this moment throughout dinner. But she smiled to herself. There was really nothing else he could do to her—she was already dismissed.

She followed him into the library when a fire blazed, casting a rosy glow over the polished wood paneling.

Saybrook walked deliberately to the side table and poured himself a brandy.

He swirled it round in his glass, then went to stand by the fire.

Jane, too, remained on her feet though he had gestured for her to take a seat.

The marquess leaned an elbow on the mantel and crossed his legs nonchalantly.

But instead of speaking right away, he kept his gaze riveted on the glass in his hand.

Jane lifted her chin a touch, thinking that he was probably enjoying himself.

She was sure he was about to ring a blistering peal over her head, but on consideration, she had to admit that she deserved it.

Her behavior had been outside the pale this afternoon.

It was a wonder that Saybrook had allowed her to set foot back in his house, not to speak of actually sitting down to dine with her.

It must have cost him a considerable effort, for which he was entitled to be repaid.

She resolved to bear his tirade in silence, keep her tongue in check and leave with as much of her dignity intact as she could.

When he finally raised his eyes, Jane was surprised to see not anger but a strange expression that she couldn’t fathom. Disconcerted, she dropped her own eyes and waited for him to speak.

“You are packed?” he asked quietly.

She nodded.

There was a pause as if he expected her to say something. Perhaps he thought she would beg for another chance? She knew things were way too far gone for that and remained silent.

His fingers drummed on the polished wood. He took a sip of the spirits in his glass. Then abruptly, he spoke again.

“You should remain at Highwood—if you please.” though the last words were added grudgingly, it was more of a statement than a request.

“You must be jesting,” breathed Jane. It was the last thing she expected. “After what happened this afternoon...”

Saybrook ignored her. “The change in Peter has been nothing short of remarkable. I prefer that he stay in your care. I will make it worth your while—consider your salary doubled.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “You cannot simply buy people, milord!”

He smiled—a cold, bitter smile. “I just have. You are staying, aren’t you?”

“For Peter’s sake, yes,” she replied. “But I shall not accept a single penny more than what Mrs. Fairchild offered when she hired me.”

“Suit yourself.”

All vows of curbing her tongue went flying out the window. “If I didn’t feel that the poor child needs someone to show him a little warmth and affection, don’t think for a moment that I would remain here.”

“Another reminder of how sadly my character is lacking? How kind of you to inform me,” remarked Saybrook, his voice heavy with sarcasm.

“Pray, might I request that the next time you feel obliged to inform me of my countless defects in character you choose to do it in a private manner such as this.” He had not raised his tone, but his voice was taut with barely controlled anger.

Jane could think of nothing to say. Part of her was furious at his high-handed manner, while part of her acknowledged his right to be angered and humiliated by her actions at the fair. And part of her was happy that she didn’t have to leave Highwood.

“Am I excused, my lord?”

“Indeed you are not,” he muttered. “But yes, you may go.”

She hurried through the door, letting it shut with something suspiciously like a slam.

Saybrook swore under his breath and downed the contents of his glass in a single swallow.

“You had best keep an eye on your King’s knight,” cautioned Jane.

Peter looked up at her quickly, an accusing look breaking his mask of concentration. “I was going to move it,” he said. “To there.” His small fingers grasped the ivory figure and placed it near her Queen.

Jane frowned in mock consternation. “I seem to be in the suds now, Peter. You have gotten quite good at this.”

The boy grinned as she pondered how to allow him to checkmate her without being too obvious … and then suddenly she was aware of a shadow falling over her.

“Uncle Edward! I have Miss Jane in check,” announced Peter.

Saybrook surveyed the board. He was still dressed formally in black, but his cravat had been loosened, giving him a more informal look, and his hands were thrust into his jacket pockets.

“Indeed you have. And your response, Miss Langley?”

Jane moved a Pawn. It was a clever piece of thinking which gave the boy a victory only if he was advanced enough to see it.

Saybrook’s face remained impassive at her move, but he watched Peter intently. The boy studied the board carefully, taking his time. When he made to advance his Bishop, he hesitated, almost making the wrong move, then quickly corrected himself and placed it on a different square.

“Check!”

“Mate,” added the marquess softly. “Well done, lad.” He smiled faintly at the boy, who beamed with pleasure.

Jane tipped her King over in defeat. “And now young man, I think it’s well past your bedtime.”

For a moment, it looked as if Peter might try to argue, but then his face brightened. “Oh, very well. I want to hear what happens to Galahad.”

Saybrook cocked an eyebrow at Jane. “Galahad?”

“We are reading King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, milord,” she replied as she rose from her chair. “I trust you do not disapprove—it was in the schoolroom library.”

“I am familiar with it,” he remarked dryly. “Illiteracy is not one of my faults.”

Jane flushed.

Turning back to the boy, he asked,” Does Miss Langley read to you every night?”

“Oh yes. It is very exciting. There is jousting and swordplay and Sir Galahad was very brave, but he was hurt and … would you like to listen too?”

Saybrook looked surprised.

“Peter,” said Jane softly. “I’m sure His Lordship has more important …”

“Yes, actually I would.” To Jane’s amazement, he reached out his hand to the boy and the two of them headed for the stairs together, leaving Jane to follow behind.

When Peter was settled into his bed, Jane placed the candle on the nightstand and moved her chair closer to the light. Opening the leatherbound volume to where they had left off, she began to read, furious with herself that her voice seemed a trifle unsteady.

Saybrook had at first moved to take a chair, but then simply leaned a shoulder against the wall near the foot of the bed.

He had placed his own candle on the dresser so his features were unreadable in the flickering shadows, but his very presence was unsettling.

She was sure he was intent on rattling her—why else had he sought their company when he had never done so before.

She read on, never raising her eyes from the pages, fighting to keep her voice even so that he wouldn’t have the satisfaction of knowing he made her nervous.

The chapter seemed to go on forever. But thankfully she noted that the boy’s eyes were beginning to droop and closed the book.

“I think that’s enough for today, Peter.”

Peter voiced a sleepy protest, which was cut off in mid-sentence by a big yawn. She ruffled his hair. “It will wait until tomorrow.”

“Very well,” he sighed. “It’s a ripping yarn, isn’t it, Uncle Edward.”

“Quite,” came the reply from the shadows.

“Do you think I might ride with you sometime?” continued the boy. “Like tomorrow?”

“Peter,” said Jane in a low voice. “You mustn’t pester your uncle.”

“I beg your pardon …” apologized Peter, but Saybrook interrupted him.

“I must ride out with my steward in the morning but perhaps after lunch you would like to accompany me to see Fleming’s sheep. I believe they are shearing tomorrow. That is, if Miss Langley agrees that it will not interfere with your lessons.”

Jane could feel his eyes upon her.

“Oh, Miss Jane, may I?”

“If it pleases His Lordship, of course you may. But only if you promise to go to sleep now. You’ve had quite enough excitement for one day.” She couldn’t refrain from smiling when she saw that the boy’s eyes had closed before she had finished her sentence.

Once in the hallway Jane meant to hurry off to her room. For her, too, more than enough had happened to occupy her thoughts. But she was stopped by Saybrook’s voice, low and quite close behind her.

“Do you play, Miss Langley?”

She turned in confusion. “Sir?”