“You, my lord, are no gentleman!” she pronounced softly.
“Yes, I am aware of that,” he said smoothly, and the raffish smile he returned sent warning shivers down her spine.
Though nettled as much by his cavalier manner as her reaction to him, Jane was determined not to reveal her lack of composure. Aware of a faint warmth in her cheeks, a lamentable mute testimony to the man’s disturbing influence, her black brows came together, and she continued to glare at him.
The earl crossed his arms over his broad chest and cocked his head, studying her. "You do that very well.”
“My lord?” she asked, chafing at his urbane countenance.
“Have you ever considered a theatrical career? No, of course not,” he drawled, lowering his arms to rest his hands on his hips and flashing her another of his relaxed, devilish smiles. "Ladies of fashion and privilege confine their thespian instincts to that greater theater of human comedy: the Bon Ton.”
“And gentleman of fashion and privilege confine their brains to the lower half of their bodies!” Jane returned with asperity, then bit her lip in exasperation for allowing herself to be so drawn. Her father and sister often teased her for the sometimes unladylike cast of her mind, but it was a tendency that she had, until now, kept carefully hidden from society.
His dark eyes flared wider, then sank to their habitual heavy-lidded gaze as he burst into appreciative laughter. "A hit! There is a fire in our Ice Witch! Well done. But beware, my dear, when and to whom your temper betrays you, lest you melt away. Now shall we cry quits and be friends?” he inquired affably.
Jane stood rigid with rage and embarrassment; her skin now blanched white save for two bright flags of color flying high on her cheeks. "Friends implies a commonality of interests and taste. I hardly think that a possibility between us,” she regally assured him.
"And I remind you that we have not been formally introduced. Therefore it would be the height of impropriety to embroider upon this chance and slight acquaintance,” she added repressively.
“Ah, an Ice Witch with cold menace. Or is that your witch’s familiar, complete with claws? I say again; you may find you are out of your league. After all, what is a witch in comparison to a devil? Good day, Miss Grantley,” he said curtly, his face a sudden study in granite hardness. He tipped his hat, then turned on his heel, mounted his horse, and rode away without a backward glance.
The earl rounded the bend in the road and was lost from sight behind a tall hedgerow before Jane felt her breath expel in a long, pent-up hiss. She hadn’t even been aware of holding it in. She pursed her lips, and her eyes narrowed as she continued to look down the empty road.
So that, she mused, was the infamous Vernon Morecaster, fifth Earl of Royce: rake, betrayer of innocents and an inveterate gambler. The Devil’s Disciple. There could not be a more contemptible person. Millicent was welcome to him.
For the remainder of the afternoon, Jane brooded over her meeting with the irritating earl. The man lacked any sense of social nicety. In person and manner, he was the complete antithesis of Mr. Hedgeworth. It was just as well that he remained on the continent for so long, for despite his rank, the earl did not belong in polite society. But perhaps, she thought with asperity, she should foster his acquaintance. That way, when Millicent arrived, Jane could include him in their social engagements and pair him with her cousin. It was apparent the two deserved each other, a more self-centered couple she’d yet to meet.
So caught up was Jane in her ruminations that Lady Elsbeth had to address her twice before she was aware of her aunt’s presence.
“All afternoon you have been glowering at the world. I know you are not happy at the prospect of Serena’s visit, but please, dear, do not let her put you in queer stirrups. If her coming bothers you that much, I will write to her to see if there may be some way of dissuading her from visiting,” Lady Elsbeth said.
Jane smiled. "I’m sorry, Elsbeth. I suppose I have been incredibly bearish today. But you do not need to write to my aunt. In truth, I am beginning to anticipate her visit.”
She laughed and drew Lady Elsbeth over to a yellow damask settee, urging her to sit beside her. "It would be best, I suppose, to confess that I have met the infamous Earl of Royce, and if I have been brooding today, it’s because I have been attempting to strategize a way to throw the earl and Millicent together."
“Throw them together?”
“Yes, for when I met the earl this morning, I determined that he is well-deserving of my cousin and she of him. They are like bookends, equally full of their self-worth and equally ready to do anything to achieve their goals.”
“Gracious!”
“Exactly,” Jane said dryly. "I will allow that in normal society, I would steer a wide path around the man, for I sense a wildness in him. He’s like a storm ready to break, a storm that, if it did break, would leave destruction in its wake. His looks, coupled with that underlying turbulence is, I will admit, compelling. That is until one has the opportunity to take the measure of the man. Lady Tipton and Millicent will be intrigued and shall not look behind the surface image that I can assure you. I shall be certain to include the earl on our invitation list during their visit. He shall keep them busy and so they willspare little thought for me or my marital status. Particularly if I pretend an interest in the earl myself.”
Lady Elsbeth tsk-tsked and tried to look severely at her niece, but without success. Her lively sense of fun appreciated Jane’s plans, though her position as chaperon demanded that she protest. "I believe you are espousing Machiavellian principles, which is very unladylike. I cannot help but wonder what your mother would say."
Jane laughed. "Elsbeth, it is about time you learned that I do not possess a well-disciplined mind, however much I may try to conceal that deplorable circumstance. In truth, I also possess my share of pride, and that pride demands I serve Lady Tipton and Mrs. Hedgeworth some measure of a trick as they would me."
Lady Elsbeth pursed her lips and shook her head slowly."I don’t understand, Jane. Won’t you please tell me what happened between you and Serena and Millicent?”
Jane looked at her aunt with deep regret swimming in her liquid green eyes. "I’m sorry, Elsbeth, truly I am. Perhaps it is best if we drop this subject. It is too fine a day to talk of gloomy things. And it is nearly teatime. Do you know where the children are? I picked some blackberries today, especially for them.”
“Blackberries? This early?”
“First of the season, I believe, but very juicy nonetheless.”
“I don’t believe they would care to miss fresh blackberries. They’re outside, no doubt getting as filthy as pigs. Nurse Twinkleham sent them out with one of the maids, young Becky, I believe, while she helped Mrs. Phibbs and me inventory the linens.”
Jane, amused, rolled her eyes. "Perhaps not the best of choices. Bertram and Edward hardly ever mind her.”
