Chapter 17
He was tense and angry.
The earl was so tense and angry that he’d ridden his gelding back across the lawns at a gallop. Now he left the blowing bay drop-reined in front of the manor beside a bed of roses. He bounded up the stone steps. Where in hell were they?
The earl had traversed Dragmore from the south end to the north in the course of his day, and there had not been a sign of Lindley and Jane.
He told himself his mood was not foul because of this, but, rather, because he was hot and sweaty and distinctly malodorous.
Just where the hell had they been all morning?
In the corridor he bellowed, “Thomas!”
The butler was behind him, unruffled. “Yes, my lord?”
“Where is Lindley?”
“He is in the morning room with Miss Jane.”
Nick felt something like daggers within him. He strode aggressively down the hall, then paused to regain calm. He heard her bell-like laughter, accompanied by Lindley’s rich baritone. He stepped in. “How cozy,” he commented. It was as close to a snarl as a human being could get.
They both froze, like two guilty culprits, which, clearly, they were.
They were sitting on the same settee, very close together—Jane’s skirts touched Lindley’s leg.
A book was spread across their communal lap, Lindley holding one end, Jane the other.
Both heads had been bent close together.
They had popped up at Nick’s comment like a double-headed Jack-in-the-box.
Lindley grinned. “Hullo, Shelton. About time. We’ve worked up quite the appetite.”
“Oh? Am I keeping you?” The earl’s tone was cool.
His gaze left Lindley. Jane was a pink-and-cream vision in a rose dress.
Her cheeks were tinged with a healthy, outdoors blush, and her thick, pale hair was pulled back with one big velvet bow.
Half of the tail spilled over her shoulder and down her right breast.
“Rough morning?” Lindley was sympathetic.
Nick didn’t answer. He cut them with a look and strode to a silver butler’s table, pouring himself—what the hell was it anyway? Lemonade? “What the hell is this?”
“Lemonade,” Jane responded.
He shot her an ugly look.
“Look at this one,” Lindley said, pointing. His hand moved to Jane’s side of the book; his shoulder pressed hers.
“It’s beautiful,” Jane said.
They were looking at pictures, of what he didn’t know or care.
Could they possibly sit any closer? With disgust, he slammed his glass of untried lemonade down.
Both heads popped up and swiveled toward him.
Nick stepped closer and saw that they were admiring pressed butterflies, for God’s sake. He turned and left.
He splashed his face with water and changed his shirt quickly, fuming.
He did not bother with his breeches. Why should he?
Lindley was impeccable—if she wanted a peacock to admire, she had him.
If she wanted to smell spices and musk, she had him.
He pounded back downstairs. He almost fell on his face in the hall, skidding to a stop and catching himself on the door jamb just in time—the floors were wet!
“What is going on!” he exclaimed through gritted teeth.
Then he spotted the maid mopping the corridor. He righted himself to find Jane standing in the doorway, hands on her slender hips. “You are tracking mud and manure everywhere,” she scolded.
He stared.
Behind Jane, Lindley muffled a laugh.
“So?” Nick challenged, bringing his gaze back to hers. She was, for some reason, angry.
“We are not in Texas. Maybe there is no mud in Texas. But you do have horses and cattle there, do you not?”
The earl felt himself start to blush.
“We have a guest,” Jane said pointedly. “If he wanted to stroll in filth, he would go to the stables. This”—she gestured grandly, blue eyes flashing—“is not a stable.”
He knew his face was burning.
Amazingly, she took his arm. Nick felt the contact to his very soul—hot and electric, he was jolted as if by lightning. But he did not have time to judge his own physical reaction. She led him into the parlor and to the window. “Look.”
He looked at the lawn, specifically, he looked at the muddy runnel he had made with his horse. He looked at Jane intently, searchingly. He did not look at Lindley. He was embarrassed. “Just what the hell do you care?” he asked, low, his gaze trained upon hers.
She did not flinch. “I care.”
He flinched. Then, icily, he said, “It’s my goddamn lawn and it’s my goddamn house and if I want to track mud I will.”
“Very well,” Jane said. “That was spoken like a five-year-old.”
His color heightened. Her gaze was blue fire. He jammed his hands in the pockets of his breeches and turned his back to her. He felt about five years old.
Lindley stood, clearing his throat. “How about some dinner? I think I smell roast beef.”
Jane hadn’t meant to berate the earl in front of Lindley.
She had almost lost her temper when she had seen her sparkling floors tracked up, and then, when she had seen the lawn, well, that had been the final straw.
The earl certainly knew better! Instinctively now she knew it was better to let the incident pass than to apologize.
And, perhaps, the earl would start to think about what he was doing.
Jane dressed for supper with excitement.
She wished desperately that she had an evening gown and jewelry, but she did not.
(She would not dare wear another of her mother’s gowns!) She wore her best dress, a dark rose, and let her hair fall free with a pearl-studded comb pulling back one side behind her ear.
She pinched her cheeks and lips and studied herself in the mirror, eyes dancing.
Jane was discovering her power over men.
Last night she hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. But she had. Lindley thought she was beautiful—and so did the earl.
The Earl of Dragmore had admitted she was beautiful.
Yet it now became clear that even though he thought so, he still did not see her as a woman equal of him. However, Lindley did.
Lindley had defended her to the earl. Lindley thought her à woman. Jane knew it from her eavesdropping, and more important, she knew it from the way he looked at her and the way he flirted with her.
She was learning that a soft, intent look, lowered lashes, a sweet smile, could bring a warm glowing light to a man’s eyes.
Lindley’s admiration was obvious and direct.
Jane was used to admiration. She had been adored her entire life until she had left London to go to the parsonage.
Finding this kind of love again was food for a starving soul.
She felt that she could walk upon clouds!
And …
If the earl did not quite see her a woman equal to him, she would show him that she was—by flirting back with Lindley.
Jane glided down stairs, flushed with anticipation.
Both men were waiting for her in the library, Lindley clad in evening wear, the earl in black trousers, shirt, and waistcoat.
Yet it was the earl who stole her breath, who made her body tighten and pulsate with sexual awareness.
However, Jane merely smiled at him. She beamed at Lindley.
“You are breathtaking.” Lindley gasped, clearly meaning it.
Jane murmured something appropriate as he kissed her hand warmly. Behind her, she heard the earl coughing as he choked on his drink.
“May I escort you?” Lindley asked warmly.
“You can always escort me,” Jane said daringly, her voice throaty. She did not look behind her, but was aware of the earl’s burning regard. “Anytime, anywhere.”
Lindley laughed, thrilled.
The earl came up behind them, his presence looming and hot. “He will escort you,” he said, “only when I allow it.”
Lindley chuckled. “Relax, old man. What—got a case of jealousy, have you? Can’t help it if she knows which of us is the handsome one.” Lindley winked at Jane.
Jane gazed at him as if smitten, ignoring the earl. She thought she heard him grinding his teeth.
The earl said not a word throughout supper. Lindley regaled Jane with stories of India and the Philippines. Jane regaled Lindley with stories of her mother and the stage. She laughed, he laughed. The earl glowered.
“I need a whiskey,” the earl finally muttered, shoving up abruptly from his chair.
They had finished raspberry tarts, but it was rude nonetheless, for Lindley and Jane were still seated contentedly.
Nick paused, making a caustic gesture. “My lady? Shall we adjourn to the parlor?” His tone was a mimickry of their own cultivated ones.
Lindley rose and hurried to pull back Jane’s chair.
Jane thanked him prettily. The earl snorted and strode away.
Jane touched her hand to Lindley’s sleeve.
“It’s such a beautiful night,” she said wistfully.
“It’s a shame to sit inside and smoke and drink.
Wouldn’t you rather stroll in the moonlight with me? ”
Lindley grinned, glancing over his shoulder, but the earl was gone. “You are either very smart,” he said, low, “or very naive.”
Jane looked at him innocently. “I have no idea what you’re referring to.”
He laughed. “If this is a game, I’m game. And if not, I’m enjoying myself immensely.” He held out his arm. Jane took it, smiling. They exited the dining room and paused in the doorway of the library. The earl’s gaze widened, then went black.
“I’m taking Jane for a breath of air, old man,” Lindley said. “Have a cigar for me.”
Under a maple tree, they separated. Jane lifted her face to the night, wondering if the earl would come after them. If not, well, all was not lost. She did like Lindley. It was exhilarating to find that she could captivate him so completely. He was handsome. Would he try to kiss her?
Her heart began to race. If he kissed her, what would she do?
She had never really been kissed before. She found she was both curious and afraid.
“You are very beautiful, Jane,” Lindley said quietly, watching her.
“And you are very handsome,” Jane said, meaning it. “And very nice.”
“Thank you.” Lindley raised his head to the moon. “Don’t judge him too harshly.”
“I don’t.”
“He’s had a tough time of it.”
“I know.”
“I think you do,” Lindley said.
“Did he …” Jane paused.
“No.” Lindley’s voice rang out, harsh in the night. “He didn’t kill her, damn it, and very little of the gossip is true. And what is true has been totally distorted.”
Jane whirled. “That wasn’t the question! I wanted to know … did he love her? Patricia?”
Lindley relaxed. “I think you’ll have to ask him that one.”
Jane came closer, to lean against the same tree. She studied Lindley as he gazed back. Then she smiled and sighed. “I never believed it, not once I’d met him.”
Lindley laughed softly. “Most people would believe it after meeting him.”
She grinned conspiratorially.
His smile faded. So did Jane’s, and the night became very quiet.
Her heart began to pick up its beat under Lindley’s warm regard.
Jane knew, suddenly, that he wanted to kiss her, that he liked her.
She felt a touch of fear, and a touch of excitement too.
Mostly she wished it was the earl standing with her in the moonlight.
“Jane,” Lindley said, his tone taking on a rough edge. He didn’t continue.
“What?” Her voice was high-pitched.
He almost smiled, then grimaced. “I wish you weren’t Shelton’s ward.”
“Why?”
He looked at her, half smiled. “Because you’re very beautiful, and—”
“And?” Her eyes glowed, holding his.
He made a sound, like a laugh. “I’m out of my mind,” he muttered. “Let’s go back.”
“Wait.” Without thinking, Jane touched Lindley, her palm to his flat abdomen. He tensed. Jane froze, then, awkwardly, hopefully, asked, “Do you really think I’m beautiful?”
“Yes.”
Their gazes locked. Jane smiled, aware of the feel of him beneath her hand. “Do you want to kiss me?” It was a question, said more out of curiosity than anything else.
He inhaled, then took her hand in his, removing it from his belly but not releasing it. “Do you want him to kill me?”
“I’ve never been kissed,” Jane said simply. “Not by a man.”
Lindley stared.
Jane didn’t realize it, but she swayed closer, fractionally, face upturned.
Lindley groaned. His hold on her hand tightened, and then he bent and kissed her once, briefly, on her parted lips. It happened so fast it was over before it had begun. Jane was disappointed.
“That’s enough, Jane,” the earl said tersely from behind them.