But what did it matter now? It was done, and he wouldn’t be so foolish again. He’d find the earrings with Basingstoke’s help and put this entire debacle behind him.
Until then, perhaps he’d have another glass of brandy, after all.
He rose and went to the sideboard but paused at the glass doors. Stoneleigh and Miss Thorne were still in the garden. Stoneleigh wasstillnattering on, and though Miss Thorne was doing her best to hide it, there was nothing genuine about the stiff smile pasted to her lips.
Stoneleigh didn’t seem to notice it, but Jasper saw it as plainly as if she’d confessed it aloud. It was the same expression she’d worn when she’d come into the study early this morning and found him still here, and in his shirtsleeves, no less.
He snorted to himself as he poured another brandy. It had been plain to see that Miss Thorne had never before laid eyes on a single strand of male chest hair before this morning. He’d never seen a lady more scandalized in his life. It was a good thing he’d left when he did, or else she might have fallen into a sw—
Wait. He paused, the glass halfway to his lips.
He’d left her here in the study this morning alone, without a single servant as witness.
Basingstoke’s servants were an unfailingly loyal group, devoted to their master and mistress. If a servanthadfound the earrings, they would have turned them over to Basingstoke at once, and Basingstoke and Grantham would have given him an earful as soon as he walked into the study this afternoon.
He glanced back at the chaise. Just what had Miss Thorne got up to when she’d been alone in the study this morning? Something she ought not to have, he’d wager.
Outside the glass doors, Stoneleigh had drawn Miss Thorne’s hand through his elbow, and he was leading her toward the terrace that led into the library.
Well, how convenient.
The library was just the place for him to have a private chat with Miss Thorne.
He dropped his untasted brandy on Basingstoke’s desk and darted out the door and down the corridor to the library. Once inside, he dashed toward a chair in a dim corner of the room, out of reach of the glow of the fire burning in the grate.
He’d just dropped into it when one of the terrace doors opened.
* * *
“No, my lord. It’s quite alright. There’s no need for you to accompany me inside.”
Prue hovered in front of the glass door, blocking Lord Stoneleigh from following her into the library. It had taken every shred of her control to hold on to her temper while they’d been walking in the garden, and it wouldn’t do for it to snap in the library.
Not with all these heavy books about.
“Such charming bashfulness, Miss Thorne!” He bowed over her hand, his lips grazing her glove. “Your modesty does you credit.”
“Thank you, my lord.” She pasted a bright smile over her clenched teeth and withdrew her hand from his tight grip. “Good-bye.”
“Until tomorrow, Miss Thorne.” He offered her yet another bow and then wandered off in the direction of the front drive, where his carriage was waiting.
She waited until he was out of sight, then closed the door and threw herself into a chair, dropping her forehead into her hand. Her courtship, such as it was, had just gone from awkward to disastrous.
She’d been startled when he’d launched into a detailed discourse on the evils of wagering, but she’d assumed he was only reciting his next Sunday’s sermon to her. It was a bit strange, yes, but she’d have to accustom herself to such things if she was to become a vicar’s wife.
As it turned out, it wasn’t a sermon at all. It was a warning.
A great many people knew about her father’s ill-advised wager with the Duke of Montford, mainly because thetonwas forever panting over Montford’s antics. There’d been enough gossip that the tale of her father’s ruination—much embellished, of course—had reached as far as West Farleigh, where Lord Stoneleigh’s parish was located.
After carrying on for some time, Lord Stoneleigh had moved on from a general commentary on the evils of wagering to the specific evil of her father’s wager with the Duke of Montford. Then in the next breath, he’d hinted it would be best if she didn’t spend a great deal of time with her father once they were married.
Oh, he didn’t blame the daughter for the sins of the father—he was quick to assure her ofthat—but he was a vicar, after all, and must set the example for his flock.
It was, of all things, the last one she’d expected from him. She couldn’t have been more shocked if he’d slapped her.
She raised her face to gaze into the fire. Lord Stoneleigh was right about one thing. There was no end to the evils that wager had brought down upon their heads. Her father—a decent, honorable gentleman—seemed destined to be punished forever for this one mistake.
What was to be done now? Marrying Lord Stoneleigh meant financial security for herself and her father, yes, but at what cost? Was she meant to turn her back on the only parent she had left, the parent she adored, who’d taught her to ride and shoot, and who’d loved her with the tender devotion of two parents after her mother had died?
