Andrea Pickens - [Lessons in Love 01] Read online

  The duke decided it was time to change the subject. "I hope, Saybrook, we shall have the pleasure of your company for an extended visit. I look forward to meeting the young lad who has occupied so much of my daughter's attention for the past months."

  Saybrook shook his head. "I think not. It would be best if we leave in the morning now that there is no need to see to my former governess's welfare."

  "Surely not!" interrupted the duke. "I'm certain it would do your injury no good to travel again so soon, and I can see that my daughter would be bitterly disappointed in not being able to spend some time with the boy."

  Saybrook began to speak.

  "Besides," added Avanlea. "We have a ball planned for my niece and are in need of all the gentlemen we can muster. I would take it as a great favor if you would at least stay until then."

  "I..."

  "Please, sir." Jane's voice was nearly inaudible.

  The turmoil was evident on Saybrook's face. "I..."

  "Good!" boomed the duke. "It's settled, then."

  Saybrook's lips compressed into a tight smile. "You are most persuasive, Your Grace."

  The duke returned the smile. "No, I simply refuse to take no for an answer. Prerogative of rank."

  At that moment, the footmen came in to clear the table. As they left, Jane rose too. "If you will excuse me, I shall leave you gentlemen to your port. I think I will retire early tonight. I feel a bit of a headache coming on."

  "Headache," remarked Thomas as he stared at her retreating figure. "Why, she's never had..." A quelling look from his father silenced any further words.

  "I pray you will also excuse me." Saybrook stood up. "It has been a fatiguing day."

  The duke rang for a candle. "Good night to you, sir. Let Grimshaw know if you are in need of anything."

  Saybrook made a bow, an inscrutable look on his face. "I believe you have thought of everything, Your Grace." With that, he followed the footman to the door.

  Walking to the sideboard, the duke poured himself a large port and held it eye level, a smile on his face as he regarded its rich, ruby color.

  "What on earth are you grinning like a Bedlamite for?" demanded his son.

  "Oh, I think you shall see soon enough," he took a sip from his glass. "But I wouldn't be young again for all the tea in China."

  "Why..."

  He shook his head in exasperation. "Youthful pride. It makes you young people too blind to see what's in front of your noses."

  "You don't mean—why, it's clear they don't even like each other!"

  The duke started on his way to the drawing room. "Thomas, you disappoint me," he said. "Until now, I would never have considered my heir an utter fool."

  * * *

  Jane pulled her nightgown closer as she sat on the windowseat of her bedchamber watching the moonlight play off the boxwood hedges and ornamental shade trees. Drat the man. Just when she was beginning to think she could put him out of her mind, he had to reappear in her life, upsetting her carefully constructed equilibrium. Upon raising her eyes and meeting those familiar sea green ones, upon seeing him standing there looking devastatingly handsome in his evening clothes, it had taken only a second for the foundations to come tumbling down.

  How had he found her? And more puzzling, what was he doing here?

  She had to blink back tears. Surely he must hold her beneath contempt now that he knew of her lies, her deceit. Surely that was what she had seen in his eyes the few times their glances had crossed during the evening, before he had quickly averted his face. Why, he couldn't even bear looking at her.

  It would have been much better if she had encouraged him to go on the morrow. So why had she asked him to stay? She rose and began to pace the room. She had asked him because—

  Jane caught herself. A sudden realization washed over her. Coward! For months, she had been a coward, she who had always prided herself with not being afraid to face anything. She had been afraid of her feelings, afraid of risking not only her precious independence but her heart as well. It was only now that she understood risk was a part of life, and that the rewards were worth far more than youthful pride.

  But finally realizing the truth did not make it any easier to know what to do. It was probably too late now to win back his regard. What a mull she had made of things, she who was always so sure she knew best. It was a bitter pill to swallow to realize how bullheaded she had been in not telling Saybrook the truth when she had had a chance. She should have trusted that he would understand.

  And now?

  She climbed between the covers to ward off the chill that was creeping over her, but she knew that sleep would be a long, long time in coming.

  * * *

  Jane was not the only one pacing the floor of a bedchamber. Saybrook was also in such an agitated state of mind that he couldn't sleep, despite his physical fatigue. He laughed harshly at himself. What a fool she had played him for. Only a complete gudgeon would not have known that "Jane" was no ordinary country miss. And as her father pointed out, he had also been placed in a scandalous position for both of them, and of scandals he had had enough.

  Yet despite his hot anger at having been duped, he felt an infinite sadness at the loss of his "Miss Langley." His mouth crooked in an involuntary smile when he pictured her once more in her dreadful gown, her hair twisted in an unattractive bun, her eyes flashing as she argued some point with him.

  He forced the image from his mind. She was irrevocably gone. A duke's daughter and a grand heiress. Why, her father—and no doubt Jane herself—would think him a mere fortune hunter intent of taking advantage of the situation if he offered for her now. That he couldn't bear.

  An oath escaped him. Why had he allowed himself to be maneuvered into staying here? He should depart at first light, no matter his promises and Peter's disappointment. He should get far enough away where he would be sure of never seeing her again until she was safely married. Perhaps to the Continent again. Wearily, he sank onto the bed and buried his hands in his hair. He could deal with the pain if he didn't have to see her.

  Oh yes, he was an expert at dealing with pain.

  * * *

  Jane smiled as she watched Peter urge his pony into a gallop as they returned to the stables. The boy was having a wonderful time. If she didn't know him better, she might worry that he was being dreadfully spoiled, what with all the attention from every adult in the house. Why, even her father had been taken with the boy. She had found him showing Peter how to feed the ducks out by the pond. The duke had looked up and, with a pointed look, remarked on how lively the place was with brats about.

  But Saybrook was another matter. It was as if he were at the other end of the earth. In the two days since his arrival he had barely uttered a word during meals and retired immediately afterward. Unable to ride, he spent most of his time taking long, solitary walks or sequestering himself in the duke's library. Not once had he spoken a direct word to her. In fact, it was obvious he went to great pains to avoid being in her presence.

  She felt the sting of tears. What had she expected? As the stables neared, she wiped at her eyes with her sleeve. At least after tomorrow he would be gone and she could at last forget about him.

  Thomas was taking Peter to see the kennels for the afternoon, so Jane finally had a few hours to herself. She changed out of her riding habit and picked up a book from her escritoire. Throwing a shawl over her shoulders, she left the room, praying that none of the servants would stop her with some household matter that needed her attention. Slipping out through the french doors of the breakfast room, she hurried down a path behind the formal gardens. Since she was a small girl, she had had a favorite spot, one she always went to when she needed solitude or comfort. It was a small knoll overlooking the lush grazing lands that rolled down to the river. Surrounded on three sides by a thicket of small hemlocks was a weathered wooden bench where she had spent countless hours reading or just watching the light play off the distant water.

  She glanced
down at the book she was carrying. It was a small leather-bound volume, the same one she had been reading that night in the sickroom at Highwood. How she and Saybrook had once argued over the contents. She had insisted on reading him passages of The Corsair to refute his casual remark that Byron was a self-conscious romantic, not a great, passionate poet. He had listened, a sardonic smile on his face, then admitted that such words might set a woman's heart aflutter.

  She had nearly thrown the book at him until he could contain his laughter no longer and she had seen he was teasing her. He then allowed that he did admire the poet's fiery soul, though at times he was a trifle melodramatic. Then, to her great surprise, he had insisted that she keep the expensive copy from his library, saying the book suited her "impassioned nature."

  Jane reached the glade and settled herself on the bench, drawing her shawl around her. As usual, she wore no bonnet around the estate, for she loved the feeling of the sun on her face, regardless of its detrimental effects on a lady's complexion. Throwing her head back to catch the pale warmth, she closed her eyes for a minute. There was stillness, save for the faint rustle of pine needles in the gentle breeze. So many times she had sought refuge here from life's heartaches. Why, she could remember quite clearly when she thought, at age fourteen, that she would simply die because her father refused to let her join the hunt because she was a girl. She shook her head, able to smile at the old memory. Perhaps time did make things easier to bear. She opened the book and began to read.

  Some time later, the sound of footsteps broke the spell of the words. From her hidden vantage point she watched a figure moving out of the trees into the clearing. Saybrook, too, wore no hat and the breeze ruffled his long dark locks, causing a certain stirring deep within her. He turned and walked towards her, unaware of the bench concealed in the hemlocks. By the time he came around the trees, he was no more than a few feet from where she sat.

  His eyes widened with surprise. There was a spark of something else as well before it disappeared in an instant, to be replaced by the cold, distant look that had become too familiar. "Your pardon," he said stiffly. "I had no idea anyone was here." He made as if to turn, but hesitated as he saw the book in her hands.

  "Yes," she faltered. "I am indulging my... my...."

  "...impassioned nature," he finished, his voice barely above a whisper.

  Suddenly the words came pouring out. She didn't dare look at him or stop to think at all, for she knew she wouldn't have the courage to go on if she did.

  Saybrook listened in silence, his eyes never leaving her face.

  "So you see, my lord," she ended, still keeping her eyes averted from him," I truly did not mean to deceive you. I was afraid to tell you later on for fear you would... hate me."

  "Hate you?" repeated Saybrook.

  "Yes! You told me how you hated the way ladies of the ton lied and deceived and manipulated for own gain!" Her voice was trembling now. "And you made it quite clear that you thought most were like that—but that I was different. I did not want to lose what regard you might have held for me. But I suppose I have shown I am indeed no different, and am deserving of your contempt."

  Saybrook muttered an oath. "Miss Lan—Lady Jane, I do not hate you."

  Jane finally dared look at him. "But you have been acting as if you do."

  "It is I who do not wish to inflict my presence on you."

  Her eyes betrayed confusion. "But why?"

  He took a deep breath. "I think you may guess why."

  "You mean because Peter is your son?"

  He nodded. "That, and because I am worse than an unprincipled rake, having caused the death of..."

  "No! That is not..."

  A loud barking interrupted her words, followed by the sound of voices.

  "Up this way?" came Peter's shout.

  "Yes. I'll lay a wager we find her here. It's her favorite spot."

  A large hound burst out of the woods and raced across the glade, planting his muddy paws squarely on Jane's shoulders.

  "Oh, down, Memphis," she cried, wishing her brother did not know her so well.

  Thomas and the boy were close on the dog's heels.

  "Isn't Memphis bang up to the mark!" cried Peter as he ran up to them. "And Thomas says I may have one of his puppies! That is, Uncle Edward, if you agree." He looked up at Saybrook with pleading eyes. "Would you like to go see them? Now?"

  Despite his tangled emotions. Saybrook couldn't suppress a harried smile. "Very well, let us go inspect these prized progenies." He let the boy grab his hand. "I suppose Highwood would be sadly lacking without a hound sired by so august a personage as Memphis."

  Thomas cocked an eyebrow at his sister as Peter half dragged the marquess away. "I fear my timing has been less than perfect."

  Jane made a show of gathering her things. "No," she answered, deliberately misunderstanding him, "It's just about time to change for supper, isn't it?"

  Chapter 12

  Jane smoothed the rich silk around her knees then fidgeted once more on the stool.

  "La, Lady Jane. Hold still or I'll never finish your hair." Sarah made a few more deft adjustments then stepped back to admire the effect. "There now, that's perfect. If you aren't the most beautiful lady in the land!"

  "Oh, Sarah, stop, or you'll turn me into a conceited monster." Jane regarded her own image in the mirror and had to admit she was not displeased. "But you are a magician."

  Her maid beamed with pleasure. "As if you'd ever be a monster like your cous..."

  "Sarah," warned Jane.

  "Well, it's the truth," sniffed the older woman. A sly grin crept over her face. "Won't Lady Fisher be made as a wet cat when she sees you. What I wouldn't give to see it!"

  "That's very uncharitable," scolded Jane, but she couldn't repress a smile. Her aunt did her best to make everyone at Avanlea miserable, so she couldn't blame the servants for taking delight at the thought of her comeuppance.

  "What a grand evening it should be," continued Sarah. "The ballroom looks like it's right out of one of those fairytales your nurse used to read to you."

  Jane's hand were knotted in her lap. "Yes," she sighed, trying to sound enthusiastic.

  "What's this? Blue-deviled on a night like this. For shame!" She shot her charge a shrewd look. "Why I hear that all the young bucks have come up from Town. Lord Astley is at his estate and it's said Lord Hawthorne is staying with him. You'll have no lack of dancing partners."

  Jane smiled as she opened her jewelry case.

  "And of course there's that handsome lord what's staying here. Devilishly attractive is that one. Quiet he is, and a bit mysterious if I do say so. Surely he'll be there as well."

  Jane's fingers fumbled with the catch of her necklace, a double strand of pearls with a starburst pendant of cut sapphires. A knock on the door saved her from having to reply.

  "Don't be all evening! The guests will be arriving any moment." Thomas poked his head in the door and gave an appreciative whistle. "You look magnificent, my dear."

  "Fustian," she murmured but was secretly glad that he thought she looked well. She snapped the clasp in place and pulled on her kidskin gloves. As she hurried to the door, she stopped to plant a kiss on her maid's cheek. "Don't bother waiting up for me. I shall tell you all about it in the morning."

  * * *

  Sarah had been right. The ballroom looked absolutely enchanting. Even though Jane had helped supervise the gardeners in arranging the garlands of evergreens and the fragrant flowers from the greenhouses, the glittering of the chandeliers along with the hundreds of snowy candles placed among the greens brought a special magic to the space. At the far end of the room, on a platform nearly hidden by sheaves of wheat and arrangements of cabbage roses, the musicians began to tune their instruments.

  The ballroom was fast filling up with guests. Some of the older gentlemen made no pretense of being interested in the dancing and made straight for the card room. A few old dowagers and apprehensive Mammas sat grouped together
where they could keep their basilisk stares on the dance floor. Jane was relieved that her aunt had insisted on doing the honors with her father in the receiving line. It gave her time to look around and compose her thoughts.

  "Welcome back, Lady Jane. I trust your relative is quite recovered." Jane turned to a familiar face, framed by short auburn curls carefully arranged a la Brutus. "I know we shall never recover from your absence from the Season," continued the smooth voice as her hand was lifted towards his lips.

  She managed a smile. "How kind, Your Grace, though I'm sure life was not quite so sadly flat as you hint."

  "Oh, it was." The Duke of Branwell held her hand longer than necessary and she had to restrain the urge to yank it away. At that moment she thought him a conceited prig! Was he so sure of himself that he was oblivious to her lack of particular regard?

  He reached for her dance card. "Ah, the rewards of being unfashionably early," he smiled. "I shall claim the first waltz, as well as—"

  "I'm sorry. I'm promised for the first waltz."

  His eyes flickered with annoyance. "I see no name there."

  "Nevertheless, it is taken."

  "Who..." began the young duke, when a group of other gentlemen descended upon them. Jane was saved from further conversation with him as she exchanged greetings with her well-wishers. Within minutes, her card was filled for the evening, Branwell having had to satisfy himself with the supper dance and a later waltz.

  ,,The music began and she was led out for the opening set of country dances. Her partner, Viscount Stoneleigh, was an old friend who also chided her on her long absence from Society. With a twinkle in his eye, he promised to bring her up to date on all that had happened. Despite his droll observations on the latest ondits, Jane found her attention wandering. Her eyes searched the crowded room. Surely he must be here by now. Unaware of the music, she made a glaring misstep, causing her partner to tread on the toe of her slipper.

  "Your pardon!" Stoneleigh apologized, peering at her startled face. "Lady Jane, I fear you haven't heard a word I have been saying!"