A slow blush transfused Jane’s pale complexion. She was suddenly aware of her disheveled appearance. With trembling fingers, she smoothed the long sleeves of her dress, buttoning them at the wrist. "Bertram, Edward, it is nearly teatime, you know. I have a special treat for you, too. Blackberries. But you’ll need to get cleaned up first. Though whether you should have any or not, I don’t know.” She was babbling and knew it. She avoided the earl’s gaze as she leaned down to straighten Edward’s jacket and brush grass from Bertram’s sleeve. It was a useless, nervous endeavor, for the children’s clothes were too messy to be set to rights.
“Fresh blackberries! Did you hear that, Edward? I’ll race you home!” Bertram cried, tearing off through the trees.
“No fair!” declared Edward, taking off after his elder sibling.
Jane and the earl laughed again as they watched them scamper off.
“So all your efforts this morning were for those two scapegrace boys,” he said.
“Yes. The Littons, my sister and her husband, are out of the country. Their governess wished to be relieved of her duties, so my aunt and I came down to Penwick Park to care for the boys in their absence,” she found herself explaining.
The earl nodded, his expression solemn. "They are lucky boys to be surrounded by people who love and care for them,” he said gruffly, a faraway expression in his dark eyes. Then helooked back at her, his devilish smile returning. "I am beginning to believe, Miss Grantley, that you need a keeper. First, I find you entangled in a blackberry bush, and now I discover you threatening that flawless complexion,” he said, lifting her hat from where it lay dangling by its ribbons on her back and resettling it on her head.
Conflicting feelings surged in on a tide of embarrassment. Was that a touch of sorrow she’d seen in his face? Why? By all reports, he did not care for children. Rumors abided concerning a child born to him and a woman he fled to the continent with more than ten years past. Still, more speculation was raised as to why he never married the woman, for she was of good family. Conflicting tales of the fates of those two innocents still circulated society, lessons for young women flattered by another rake’s attentions.
Suddenly Jane doubted all she’d heard about the earl. She looked up at him, a curiously intent expression in her eyes.
“My lord, would you care to join us for tea?”
CHAPTER 3
The words spilled out of her mouth before Jane could stop them. She felt herself blushing anew. Exasperated, she marshaled all her emotions and drew on her cool society cloak. The earl was observing her far more closely than she liked. "We will, of course, understand if you choose not to join us for our little early tea, as it is a gathering in which we include the children. More in the way of adivertissementfor them, you understand, before they adjourn to the nursery for their supper and evening ablutions.”
The earl frowned. "And should that sway my decision?”
“That I cannot answer, my lord.” Jane smiled faintly. It was her social smile, for she concluded that no gentleman of fashion, let alone a dissolute rake like Lord Royce, would deign to participate in what could only be considered a nursery meal. Her invitation would be refused, and that would be the end of it. There was no need for agitation.
“Then I accept, Miss Grantley,” Lord Royce said smoothly, and the smile he returned was the devil’s own.
Jane blinked, dumbfounded, then rallied. "Very well,” she returned briskly, thoroughly nettled as much by his smile as by his answer. "I see you have your horse tethered nearby. I leaveyou to ride to Penwick Park while I return through the woods. My aunt, Lady Elsbeth Ainstree, will entertain you until the boys and I are fit to join you for tea."
“And here I was anticipating taking you up before me on Brutus. You have dashed all my hopes and expectations, Miss Grantley,” the earl teased.
Jane refused to be drawn. "It would be neither seemly nor comfortable. Thank you for your offer, but I must refuse.”
“Winter in the summertime! I see I shall have to look to Lady Elsbeth and your nephews for comfortable conversation, for the Ice Witch has returned.” He bowed formally to Jane, but amusement lingered in the depths of his dark eyes. "At Penwick Park then, Miss Grantley,” he said in farewell before he turned to retrieve the reins of his horse. He mounted and touched his hat briefly in salute before wheeling the animal around to trot down the lane.
Jane stamped her foot in frustration. The Earl of Royce was the most disagreeable man ever to enter her orbit. That he found amusement at the expense of others was unpardonable. His good humor toward Bertram and Edward was surely an aberration of character, no doubt engendered by the recent receipt of some good news. Perhaps a horse he’d bet on had won a race, or perchance a debt owed him had been repaid, making him magnanimous and pleasant for a change. Why had she so rashly and foolishly invited him to tea?
A slight pout marred the porcelain perfection of her features. For some mysterious reason, the man’s mere presence shredded the social cloak she’d worn for so many years. Perhaps, she considered as she stared off down the empty road, she’d become too complacent in her adopted mien. She’d have to work to mend the rents and reinforce the seams, for she was not going to allow herself a relapse into the uncertain, hurt young woman she’d been three years ago.
But why was she staring after him like some country bumpkin? And if the earl could so destroy her cool fa?ade, she hated to think of her aunt’s response to his sardonic demeanor. Royce’s appearance at Penwick Park would no doubt fluster Elsbeth and reduce her to a timid mouse. Oh, to foreswear her ready tongue! She must protect Lady Elsbeth from her folly, she resolutely decided. Whirling around, she ran back to the manor, entering through a discreet side door.
Childish gigglesand laughter greeted Jane’s ears as she descended the stairs after changing her gown and righting the wild tangle of her hair. She crossed the Great Hall to the parlor door, her satin slippers making no sound. Judging by the amused expression of the footman eavesdropping by the door, she could tell that the occupants of the parlor were enjoying themselves.
“Jeremy, the door please?” she said, standing before the footman who had temporarily assumed the duties of the butler.
Jeremy straightened abruptly, stammering a disjointed excuse.
Jane ignored his words, her lips slightly pursed to refrain from laughing. Jeremy had much to learn about the proper etiquette of a butler. "The door,” she reminded him gently, pointing to it.
The young man reddened and quickly pushed open the double carved-oak doors, bowing curtly to Jane as she swept by him into the large parlor with its unusual floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the park to the Folly in the distance. The late afternoon sunlight, streaming into the large room, placed its occupants in a shadowy silhouette. The Earlof Royce sat in the middle of the long settee, flanked on either side by a child. That he was enjoying their company was obvious, even though the shadows made his facial expression indiscernible.
Jane paused, frowning in confusion, uncertain how to interpret the scene, for it so strongly worked against her expectations. As she stood facing the windows, her face was open to the afternoon sun, her expression visible to all. On seeing her, the earl rose from his seat and urged the boys to follow his example. They did so with alacrity.
Expressions of surprise, amazement, and curiosity chased across Jane’s unguarded countenance. The earl bowed, as did the boys, and Lady Elsbeth, seated on a japanned and gilded chair with her workbasket at hand, choked down a laugh.
“There you are, Jane,” said her aunt in a tone light with contained mirth. "I feared you would not join us.”
