And then she saw the streak of mud he had trailed through the house.
She sighed. Maybe he wasn’t aware of what he was doing. Maybe they didn’t have mud in Texas. Maybe he just didn’t care. Either way … Jane turned and started after the earl and Amelia. The door to the library was open. Amelia was gushing in delight over something. Jane froze. Amelia was holding up a glittering necklace of gold and lapis. Her expression was ecstatic.
“Thank you, darling, thank you!” she cried, flinging herself at the earl.
Jane backed away. The earl was giving her presents? Expensive jewelry? It shouldn’t hurt, but it did. It crushed her earlier joy. He was a stupid, rutting boor of a man who couldn’t see past a pair of big breasts! And to think, to think she had actually hoped to civilize him? To think she had fancied herself falling in love with him! To think she had thought he was coming around and starting to care about her! She was a fool—as big a fool as he! She could never compete with the likes of Amelia!
Jane hurried down the hall and out the front door. Bitter tears stung her eyes. The problem was, it was too late.
She was already in love with him.
14
“What?”
“I am sorry,” the earl of Dragmore said, without expression. “This is good-bye, Amelia. It’s over.”
Amelia stared, white-faced, the necklace dangling loosely from her hand.
“After dinner the coachman will take you to Lessing. There’s a five o’clock train to London.” He started to walk past her.
She grabbed his arm, her face ugly in its vicious fury. “You bastard!”
He stood very still. “I never said I wasn’t a bastard,” he said dryly. Little did she know she spoke the truth.
She slapped him across the face.
With the back of his hand, he rubbed his flesh, as if to remove her touch. “Now that you’re calmer, please see to your things.”
“You bastard!” she cried again, this time her voice breaking. “I love you!”
He raised a brow. “You don’t love me,” he said crudely. “You love this.” He touched his groin briefly.
“That’s not true! I do love you, I always have …”
“Spare me the theatrics.” His voice cut like a knife. “It’s over.”
“It wasn’t over last night!”
The earl looked at her. “Don’t press me to say things I shouldn’t have to say.”
She shrank, then. “It’s her. That little blonde. It’s-”
“She is my ward,” he said curtly. “I’m arranging a marriage for her. I am hungry. You may join me —but not to discuss this topic.”
“Bastard.” Amelia sobbed, and she ran out of the room.
The earl walked into the dining room and felt a twinge of pleasure at the sight of a third place set on the table—for Jane. “Thomas, I don’t think Amelia will be joining us.” He looked around, but Jane was not in sight. “Five minutes,” he told his butler.
He bounded up the stairs. He felt renewed. Invigorated. Why? Because he’d recognized the fact that he despised his own mistress and had decided to get rid of her? Yes, that was it. Too bad he hadn’t come to this conclusion a long time ago.
He remembered dinner with Jane the day before yesterday. He remembered her sweet smile when he’d poured her a glass of wine—after he’d been unspeakably rude to her. Her manners had been so perfect, so proper, while he had behaved, and looked like, a farmer. He recalled how her face had lit up like an angel’s when he’d said hello to her just now in the hall. Something within him had lit up too.
He stripped off his shirt, throwing it on the floor. He strode into the water closet and began washing his torso, under his arms, his face. After toweling himself dry, he slid on a fresh, clean white shirt. Then he glanced down at his breeches, stained and dirty from his day’s labors. With a sigh, he sat and yanked off his muddy boots. He donned another pair of pants, then he wiped off his boots, gave them a quick polish with his dirty shirt, and pulled them on. He hurried downstairs, his step lighter than it had been in a long time.
Jane had not appeared. Amelia’s place had been removed. The earl paced a few minutes, aware of Thomas’s curiosity, feeling ill at ease. He had never waited for anyone, not in four long years— he always dined alone. His face grew pink, high up on his cheekbones, giving him a sunburned look. “Thomas, where is Jane?”
“I saw her go outside, sir, and I don’t think she’s returned.”
