“I beg your pardon.You’re right, and even if you overheard your father discussing such a thing, you should never repeat it.You aren’t supposed to know what a mistress is.They’ll blame me for telling you.”
“In fact, I’m not really sure what a mistress does,” Hortensia said thoughtfully.“She sleeps in his bed and wears his jewels.Does she cook for him and take care of him?”
Jenny groaned.“The less you know of mistresses, the better.You won’t be meeting any in polite company so you don’t need to be thinking about them.And whether your cousin has one or a baker’s dozen, you don’t need to know.”
“I do if he’s going to marry you,” Penelope said, and Jenny wanted to groan again.Penelope was like a terrier when she came up with an idea—she never let go.
“He’s not going to marry me.He’s not going to even notice me.”
“He already did,” Penelope said.
And Jenny knew it was the truth, whether she liked it or not.Those dark, mesmerizing eyes had watched her, taking their time as they surveyed her, and that small, sly smile had been meant for her.And if she were to be completely honest, she’d reacted to that wicked little smile, though she knew she hadn’t shown it.
She dressed in her sedate gray dinner dress, and tucked her brown hair in a tight chignon that was going to give her a headache, she was sure of it.By the time she accompanied the girls downstairs to the dining room, it was full blown and she wondered if she dared absent herself from dinner.
He wasn’t there.The Rohans were all quite tall, even the wives, but there was no taller, brooding figure dressed in funereal black lurking in a corner, watching her.She was perfectly safe.
Safe?What an odd word to think of in conjunction with Brat de Malheur.He was no danger to her, and any moment of silent communication surely had to be in her imagination.The twins were clearly disappointed, but at least his absence would put a stop to their matchmaking plans.
As for her, she felt nothing but relief, a relief too strong to be healthy.It was mixed with disappointment, but that had nothing to do with her.She took a quiet, perverse pleasure in the way Brat had baited his stuffy Uncle Charles, and after living under the man’s thumb for three years, she was delighted to see him get a trace of comeuppance.She could have happily witnessed more.
But she was seated next to the young curate, a Mr.Elliott, and their conversation was wide-ranging and lively, so much so that she almost forgot about Brat entirely.Almost.
By the time the women retired to the salon, Annis had grown increasingly bad-tempered, and she shooed Jenny up to bed before she could have a cup of post-prandial tea.
“You may leave us now, Lancaster,” Annis said in arch tones, a particularly annoying form of address.“You should go up and make certain the girls’ room is ready for the night.”
Not only was this work for a servant, but suggesting that anything less than perfection was an insult to her hostess.Jenny noticed the thinning around Miranda’s mouth.
“I think you can trust my servants to see to you properly,” she said in a tight voice.
Annis remembered her manners.And, Jenny suspected, she was a little bit in awe of her sister-in-law.“I beg your pardon, Miranda.I didn’t mean to suggest anything less.I was merely wishing to give Miss Lancaster something to do.She’s had it far too easy here, what with the army of servants you keep.”
Charles and Annis, on the other hand, had a bare skeleton of a staff, so that Jenny had had to serve as maid and cook for her charges instead of concentrating on her teaching duties.Neither of the girls were inclined toward academia, but they’d been willing enough, and Jenny had been too fond of them to leave her unsatisfactory employment.She was truly looking forward to being pampered by Aunt Dorothy’s beloved old retainers.
“Please stay and join us for tea, Miss Lancaster,” Miranda said.“We’d be happy to have you.”
“If you’ll excuse me, I have a bit of a headache,” she said regretfully, the absolute truth.It had grown worse and worse during dinner.And she couldn’t help but wonder whether it was her too-tight hair or the absence of a certain person that was causing it.
“Certainly.But you must plan to join us from now on.We tend to treat everyone as family here.”
Annis sent her a nasty glance as she hastily left the salon, and she stood in the great hall, wondering which way to go.
“Miss me?”said Brat de Malheur.
ChapterFour
Jenny let outan undignified little shriek, the very last thing she wanted to do.The man unsettled her, and she was determined not to show it.On top of that, she didn’t know how to address him.Were sons of earls automatically “my lords”?
“You startled me,” she said lamely.Her husband would have been sorely disappointed in her.She always prided herself on being cool and calm, the perfect figure of decorum, and now she was fidgeting like a schoolgirl.
“I meant to.”
Things were going from bad to worse.He was dressed in black, which she told herself was an affectation, and he was watching her out of those dark, all-knowing eyes, and if she had one ounce less self-control, she would have turned and run.
“You were definitely missed at dinner, Mr.de Malheur,” she said, deciding to chance the lesser title to put him in his place.He didn’t appear chagrined.
“But did you miss me?”
