Jane saw the worry in her aunt’s eyes and was touched, but she did not feel she could confide the extent of her misgivings surrounding the upcoming visit. She hoped she was wrong, butshe suspected that neither Lady Serena Tipton nor Sir Garth Helmsdon intended to act in an honorable fashion. She felt like a warrior girding up for battle, checking her defenses, setting strategy, and readying her ammunition. The problem was, she had no ammunition with which to fight, save for the Earl of Royce. And he was at best a keg of dynamite, as likely to destroy her as her enemy.
What could he want now? She tore at the strings of the large white apron that covered her gown. She flung it over her head, tossing it in a hallway chair by a tall pier-glass in which she stopped to check her appearance. She patted a stray raven lock back into place, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. The trick to dealing with men like the earl, she told herself, was to be impeccably polite. Such behavior drove them crazy.
She closed her eyes a moment to will a relaxed, calm state to greet the earl. Behind her, Lady Elsbeth began making slight noises indicating her growing sense of unease. Jane opened her eyes and flashed Lady Elsbeth a smile before taking her arm in hers.
“I’ll not deny the man makes me nervous. Look at me, preening like some fresh debutante! It is simply not to be borne!”
Lady Elsbeth relaxed and smiled in turn. "No, but I’ll own I feel it healthy for you to be thrown off stride a bit. One can become too complacent.”
“With Aunt Serena and Sir Helmsdon arriving, complacent is the last thing I could be!” she said, laughing, her eyes warming at last.
“Miss Grantley, it is welcome to see you recovered from your unfortunate accident,” drawled the Earl of Royce from the open parlor doorway.
Jane looked up, emotion draining from her features and leaving two bright spots of color in its wake. Royce was dressed in riding attire, his hat and crop tucked under one arm.
“My Lord Royce,” she murmured, dipping slightly while extending her hand. "You do me an unexpected honor.” Her lashes descended over her eyes, masking the irritation reflected in those twin green pools of light. "Please come in and sit down. May we offer you anything in the way of refreshments?” She gracefully swept past him and sank onto one of the settees. She indicated an invitation to be seated with a brief wave of her hand.
“No, thank you anyway. I do not intend to stay long. I only came by to determine if you or Bertram have lingering complications due to your unfortunate contretemps of yesterday.” Taking up a position by the fireplace, he remained standing.
“So kind of you.” It rattled her that he stood, looming over them. He was so damned casual and at ease. He wasn’t even appropriately dressed for visiting!
He laughed shortly. "You’re mistaken. I’m told I’m never kind. Merely curious, meddlesome, and presumptuous. A respite from boredom,” he drawled.
One of Jane’s eyebrows lifted as she absorbed his enigmatic speech. She rose from her seat and moved about the room, restlessly pacing. An odd tingling irritation prickled at her nerves. She must regain control. She mustn’t let this man affect her!
“And in my meddlesome, presumptuous, and bored way,” he continued, “I am curious as to what you decided regarding punishment for Bertram."
“Why?”
He shrugged. "I like the lad.”
Jane’s lips twitched, but she refused to give in to humor. "I must confess, not knowing what my sister and her husband would say, I let the matter drop.”
The earl laughed. "And so the Ice Witch melts.”
"Hardly, sir,” she said repressively to cover confusion.
“Lord Royce,” interrupted Lady Elsbeth. She glanced askance at Jane then continued, her full attention upon the earl. "We are expecting guests in a few days and will be devising entertainments for their enjoyment. May we count upon you to help make up our numbers?”
“Guests?” He frowned a moment. "I did not think you had the notion of entertaining at Penwick.”
“Actually, we don’t,” Lady Elsbeth candidly confided. "But my sister has autocratically decided otherwise,” she continued with a laugh. "She writes that she and some friends will be in the neighborhood for a few days on their way to Brighton."
Out of the corner of his eye, Royce saw a slight frown mar the cold perfection of Miss Grantley’s studied, formal expression. So the upcoming visit did not find favor with the Ice Witch, he thought. Interesting. He wondered why.
“I should be delighted; however, I am expecting company of my own within the next few days,” he said, his hands spreading open in apology.
Jane turned swiftly to face him, her skirts swishing at the sudden movement. Red flags flew on her cheeks. She stood rigidly, her hands clasped tightly before her as she stared up at him. "Must you display your prurient interest in the country? Isn’t the city a more apropos setting for that kind of indulgence?” she inquired coldly.
“Jane!” Lady Elsbeth gasped at both the indelicate suggestion and the tone in which it was proposed.
The ice underlying Jane’s words would have given a lesser man pause. The Earl of Royce merely laughed.
She flushed, gnashing her teeth together while the earl gave himself over to unrestrained mirth. Despite her anger and chagrin, Jane could not help but note how relaxed and approachable Royce looked in the throes of laughter. Hardly a devil’s disciple. Laughter even lent his hard, craggy features a certain handsomeness usually missing with his habitual sardonic expression. These observations did not please her. Royce was not a man to like, let alone call a friend. And, she told herself, she pitied any woman who called him lover.
“My dear Miss Grantley, you undoubtedly have listened to society’s tales and have allowed your imagination to play upon them. I’m flattered to have come so into your thoughts. But I’m afraid I should disappoint you. My guest is altogether male.”
His last word hung heavy in the air like some unspoken threat or impending thunderstorm. Lady Elsbeth shivered at his tone. She glanced at her niece and noted that Jane blanched as she absorbed his meaning.
