Читать книгу Tall, Dark... Collection - Кэрол Мортимер, Carole Mortimer - Страница 58

‘Have you been Stourbridge’s…ward for very long, Miss Smith?’

Jane had been lost in the enchantment of the ‘small’ ballroom, as Arabella called it. Dozens of candles illuminated the room, and the dancing couples were reflected in the ornate mirrors that covered the walls. A warm breeze came in through the open doors that led out into the garden beyond.

Now she looked up frowningly at the Earl. ‘Why do you ask, My Lord?’

He raised mocking blond brows. ‘Possibly because Lady Arabella describes you as her companion, and the Duke as his ward. I wondered which of them spoke in error…?’

Jane stumbled slightly in the dance—a slip the Earl deftly masked as he matched his steps to her own. ‘Perhaps neither of them, My Lord,’she finally dismissed smoothly. ‘There is surely no reason why I cannot be both ward to the Duke and companion to Arabella?’

‘None at all,’ the Earl conceded. ‘But neither description tells me who you really are.’ All humour had now left that handsome face, and he stared down at her with that same intentness of purpose that Jane had found so disconcerting during dinner.

Jane withstood the intensity of that gaze as she gave a rueful smile. ‘I am nobody, My Lord.Absolutely nobody.’

‘One thing Lady Arabella and the Duke do seem in agreement on is your name…Jane Smith…?’

For all that the Duke had warned her the Earl was reputed to be a charmer and a seducer, Jane was finding his persistence in asking her personal questions irritating in the extreme.

The Earl shook his head. ‘I am sorry to disagree, Jane, but I really cannot accept any loving mother with the surname of Smith baptising her child Jane.’

‘Then perhaps she did not love me!’ Jane snapped, still trying to come to terms with her emotions towards her mother after discovering that Janette had married a man who was not the father of her baby. ‘She died on the day I was born,’ Jane explained flatly, as the Earl continued to look down at her speculatively.

His expression instantly changed to one of frowning regret. ‘Please forgive me if I have caused offence, Jane.’ He sighed. ‘My own wife and child died many years ago, too,’ he added, with a grimace.

It was an explanation that at once touched Jane’s tender heart, and perhaps explained many things about this man’s rakish reputation…‘You did not cause any offence, My Lord,’ she assured him huskily.

‘You may call me Justin, Jane,’ he drawled.

‘I would rather not, My Lord,’ she came back firmly.

The Earl gave a rueful shake of his head. ‘You do not seem to be part of the artifice that makes up the world of the ton, Jane…?’

Perhaps that was because Jane did not belong to this world. She was merely an intruder, there on sufferance only because the Duke of Stourbridge had decided it should be so!

She gave him a sharp look. ‘That is the second time this evening that you have spoken so disparagingly of your peers, My Lord.’

He gave a humourless smile. ‘Perhaps because for the main part that is how I choose to think of them…’

‘Why?’

The Earl shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘I doubt you would understand the reason for my cynicism, Jane.’

‘Perhaps if you were to explain your reasons to me…?’

His gaze became quizzical at the earnestness of her expression. ‘Talking about one’s past does not make it any less painful, Jane. Nor does it make it possible for the ton to forgive those past indiscretions,’ he added harshly.

‘Not even if one is genuinely repentant?’

‘Ah, but there lies the problem, Jane. For, you see, I remain totally unrepentant.’

‘Then you cannot expect forgiveness.’

The Earl gave a rueful shake of his head. ‘Have things always been so black and white to you, Jane?’

She nodded. ‘My father—a parson—brought me up to be honest, I hope.’

‘He did indeed.’ The Earl gave a hard smile of acknowledgment.

‘But a lack of artifice and guile is unusual in any woman, I have found, Jane, let alone one so young as you,’ he added.

‘Indeed, My Lord?’ she said dryly.

‘Oh, yes.’ His smile became derisive. ‘But perhaps your own honesty is due in part to the fact that you have no interest in becoming my Countess…’

Her eyes widened. ‘I certainly do not, sir!’

The Earl gave an appreciative chuckle. ‘And so you intrigue me even further, Jane!’

‘I can assure you it was not my intention to do so,’ Jane told him primly.

‘Perhaps it is for that very reason I find you so interesting, Jane,’ he murmured tauntingly.

Jane moved back slightly to look up at him. ‘Are you flirting with me, My Lord?’

‘As it happens…no, Jane. I am not,’ he assured her hardly. ‘Strangely, you bring out a protective element in me that I have not felt since—’ He broke off abruptly, his frown dark. ‘Why is that, do you think, Jane?’

‘I have no idea, My Lord.’ Jane was tired of this enigmatic conversation, but she was even more annoyed with the way the Duke stood at the side of the room, glaring at her so disapprovingly. As if he feared that at any moment she might do or say something to embarrass him or one of his guests. She curtseyed to the Earl as the dance ended. ‘If you will excuse me, My Lord? I believe I would like go outside for some air.’ She turned in the direction of the open French doors.

‘An excellent suggestion.’ He fell into step beside her.

Jane turned to frown at him. ‘My suggestion was not an invitation for you to join me, My Lord.’

‘I am well aware of that, Jane,’ he acknowledged unconcernedly.

She gave a tight smile. ‘But you choose to accompany me anyway?’

‘I do, indeed.’ He gave an inclination of his head as he took a light hold of her arm. ‘I am not yet ready to relinquish my…interest, you see, Jane.’

‘But I am not trying to interest you, My Lord!’

‘Now you are starting to repeat yourself, Jane, and I really would prefer that you not become as boringly predictable as all the other ladies of my acquaintance.’ He grimaced.

It was much cooler outside on the terrace, the sun having set, leaving the surrounding gardens dappled in the half-light between night and day.

But Jane wasted no time on appreciating the beauty of her surroundings as she turned to face the Earl, her chin determinedly high. ‘I do not care, one way or the other, My Lord, in whether you find my company boring or intriguing.’

He shrugged stiffly. ‘I have not conversed for this length of time with a lady so young as you for a very long time, or so frankly,’ he repeated frowningly. ‘Where do you come from, Jane? Who are your family?’

‘I have already told you that I am nobody—’

‘But I do not believe you, Jane. There are Smiths in the Lakes, Kent and Bedfordshire. Can you be related to any of them…? I warn you, Jane,’ he added softly, ‘you will only deepen my interest further by your determination to remain a mystery…’

Jane frowned her consternation; having yet another person curious about her was the very last thing that she wanted or needed. ‘Release me, sir.’ She was breathing heavily in her agitation.

The Earl’s narrowed gaze studied her face searchingly for several long seconds, before his handsome features relaxed into a wolfish smile. ‘I have already told you, I am not ready to do that, Jane.’

Her eyes widened as his fingers tightened about her arm, that single movement enough to make her aware of how alone they were out here on the deserted terrace.

She had been foolish in allowing the Earl to accompany her outside, Jane realised belatedly. Not that he had really given her any choice in the matter, but even so…

‘Do not look so concerned, Jane,’ he taunted softly. ‘You really are far too young for me to be genuinely enamoured of you. But perhaps it is you who explected a light dalliance in the moonlight—’

‘Whether that is Jane’s wish or not, it most certainly is not mine!’ An icily furious voice—the Duke of Stourbridge’s icily furious voice!—cut in at the same instant Jane felt herself being pulled from the Earl’s grasp and back against the hard strength of the Duke’s chest.

The Earl’s pale gaze glittered challengingly in the moonlight. ‘Is it your intention to spoil all Jane’s fun this evening, Stourbridge?’ he taunted mockingly.

Fun? Until Hawk’s appearance, this man’s conversation had been far from light or flirtatious!

Did the Duke believe otherwise?

One glance over her shoulder at the chilling expression on Hawk’s face and Jane knew that was exactly what he believed!

Hawk drew in a harsh breath as he glared coldly at the older man. ‘I have not given you leave to call her by her first name!’

‘Perhaps the lady herself has allowed me that liberty?’ the Earl taunted derisively.

Hawk’s mouth tightened. ‘As was explained to you earlier, Miss Smith is unfamiliar with the ways of the ton. She is especially naïve, Whitney, when it comes to men like you,’ he added insultingly.

Jane felt as light as thistledown as Hawk held her firmly against him, as slender as a nymph, with the softness of her bright curls brushing against his chin. But as Hawk’s most recent memory of that slenderness was of Jane standing far too close to the Earl of Whitney, he found he was in no mood at this moment to appreciate any of her womanly charms.

‘A man like me?’ the Earl repeated softly. ‘I will have you know, Stourbridge, that I have called men out for lesser insults!’

Hawk was well aware of the other man’s reputation for duelling, even though it was no longer approved of—either by the ton or the Crown.

Hawk, a master swordsman an an excellent shot, had never been involved in such idiocy himself, but he would be willing to make an exception where the Earl of Whitney was concerned!

‘Yes?’ he challenged hardly, even as he put Jane firmly out of harm’s way.

The Earl thrust his face close to Hawk’s, his eyes glittering coldly. ‘If you would care to name a time and a place I will have my seconds call upon yours—’

‘Now, really!’ An indignant Jane interrupted impatiently. ‘You cannot seriously intend to challenge each other to a duel over such a trifling matter?’ She looked incredulous.

Having been sure that Whitney was about to take Jane into his arms, no doubt with the intention of kissing her, was no ‘trifling matter’ as far as Hawk was concerned. In fact, it had made him feel more than a little murderous.

‘And how else would you suggest we settle this, Jane?’ Hawk demanded scathingly, even as his gaze remained unwavering on the older man.

‘Settle what?’ she gasped incredulously. ‘You are both behaving like children rather than two titled gentlemen who should know better!’

‘My dear Jane, this is exactly how two titled gentlemen settle their differences,’ the Earl told her dryly.

‘I have warned you against calling her by her first name!’ Hawk reminded him chillingly.

The Earl quirked mocking brows. ‘You reserve that privilege, for yourself, eh, Stourbridge?’

Hawk’s hand clenched into fists at his sides. ‘Explain that remark, if you please!’

‘Do not explain that remark—or indeed any other!’ Jane instructed impatiently, and she put out her hands and rested one on either man’s chest, her face flushed with anger, green eyes glittering warningly as she glared at them both. ‘Really, I have never encountered such nonsense in my life,’ she continued fiercely, keeping her hands on the men’s chests in order to hold them at bay. ‘You will not name a time and a place,’ she told the Duke disgustedly. ‘And you, My Lord—’ she turned impatiently to Whitney ‘—you will not challenge the Duke to a duel for mentioning a reputation that I have absolutely no doubt you took great delight in acquiring and which you have long enjoyed!’

Whitney gave an appreciative grin. ‘How well you have come to know me in such a short time, dear Jane. But nevertheless…’ He sobered as the Duke gave a warning snort of impatience ‘—it simply is not done for a gentleman to cast aspersions upon another’s reputation—’

‘I do not believe they can be called aspersions when they are the truth,’ Jane cut in disgustedly.

‘From a lady they might be considered the truth,’ the Earl conceded. ‘From another gentleman they are an insult,’ he assured her. ‘In Stourbridge’s case deliberately so, I am sure.’ He looked at Hawk from between narrowed lids.

‘Nevertheless,’ Jane said determinedly, ‘I absolutely forbid either of you to continue with this foolishness.’

Hawk looked down at her as she stood between himself and Whitney, a hand still on each of their chests. A completely ineffective gesture when both men were inches taller than she, with powerfully muscled chests and arms that could easily have put her tiny form to one side before they continued with their argument.

That neither man chose to do so was due in part, Hawk knew, to the fact that Jane looked so magnificent in her outrage. The red vibrancy of her hair seemed almost to crackle like flame, her eyes glittered like emeralds, her normally full lips were thinned to a disapproving line, and those creamy breasts were quickly rising and falling in her agitation.

A glance across at Whitney showed the indulgent laughter lurking in the other man’s eyes, as he too looked at the spitting little vixen Jane resembled in her outrage.

She really did think that she was stopping the two men from fighting with a paltry hand on their chests. And she ‘absolutely’ forbade them from duelling.

It was too much to endure. For either man.

Jane looked at the two men incredulously as first the Duke and then the Earl burst into deep-throated laughter.

Laughing? After the last few fraught minutes the two men were now actually laughing together?

Seconds ago she had been literally terrified—either that the Duke was going to be killed or else put in prison for killing the Earl of Whitney. Both prospects had filled her with dread.

And now, instead of duelling the two men were laughing together. Her own indignant expression seemed only to increase their humour. The Earl was actually bent double, his hands braced on his knees, as he laughed so long and heartily he could barely catch his breath. The Duke fared little better, almost seeming to have tears in his eyes as he openly guffawed.

Jane stood, hands on hips, bristling with indignation at this unwarranted humour. ‘Perhaps when you two gentlemen have ceased this hysteria, one or both of you might care to tell me the source of your amusement?’

‘I am afraid you are, dear Jane.’The Earl was the first to regain some sort of decorum as he straightened to take a handkerchief from his pocket and dab the moisture from his eyes. ‘Just now, as you stood so bravely between the two of us, you gave every appearance of a bantam hen rebuking her chicks!’He gave a rueful shake of his head.

‘You were laughing at me?’ Jane breathed disbelievingly, her eyes wide as she glared first at the Duke and then the Earl.

‘Unforgivable, I know, Jane. But nonetheless true,’ the Earl confirmed, a smile still curving his lips.

Not a good move, as Hawk could have warned the other man—but he chose not to, and two bright spots of temper appeared in Jane’s cheeks.

‘You were laughing at me?’ she repeated softly. ‘Do you have any idea how ridiculous the two of you looked a few minutes ago? How absolutely—’

‘That is enough, Jane,’ Hawk cut in sternly.

‘After your most recent—your absolutely childish behaviour just now, you will not even attempt to tell me what to do, Your Grace!’ She turned on him fierily.

‘She is priceless, Stourbridge,’ Whitney remarked admiringly. ‘Absolutely delicious!’

Hawk’s humour had faded as suddenly as it had occurred, but he sobered completely as he realised he did not care for the other man’s last comment. ‘Now, listen here, Whitney—’

‘Not again!’ Jane burst out exasperatedly, her tiny hands now clenched into fists at her sides. ‘I wish I had let the two of you duel. I wish you had pierced each other through the heart with your swords. I wish—Oh, never mind what I wish!’she concluded disgustedly. ‘If you two gentlemen will excuse me?’ She turned sharply on her heel—not in the direction of the ballroom, but towards the steps leading down into the moon-shadowed garden.

Hawk’s hand snaked out to grasp her wrist. ‘Where do you think you are going?’

‘I do not think I am going anywhere—I am going into the garden!’ Her eyes glittered up at him in challenge.

Hawk refused to release her arm. ‘I cannot stand by and let you walk off into the darkness, Jane—’

‘I do not advise you to try and stop me, Your Grace!’

Green eyes battled with gold for several seconds, before Jane lifted her slippered foot and brought the heel down forcefully on top of Hawk’s instep. The unexpectedness of the attack caused him to move sharply backwards and so loosen his grip on her wrist. A lapse in concentration that Jane took full advantage of as, with one last sweeping look of disgust, she turned and marched away.

In the direction of the garden—as she had said she would!

‘Magnificent!’ the Earl murmured wonderingly as he stared after her. ‘Truly magnificent.’

Despite—or because of—the pain in his foot, Hawk bristled angrily. ‘You will stay away from her, Whitney!’

The other man turned to look at him with amused eyes. ‘Will I?’

‘Yes, you damn well will—’

‘Surely that is for the lady to decide?’Whitney taunted. ‘Unless, as I suggested earlier, you have a prior claim…?’

Hawk drew in a sharp breath. ‘Jane is my ward—’

‘So you have said.’ The other man nodded. ‘But from what I have just witnessed I would say the young lady has a definite mind of her own.’

Hawk could not deny that. Nor could he deny that, if anything, he admired that trait in Jane even more than Whitney did.

He knew her to be priceless. And delicious. And magnificent…!

‘Yes, she does,’he confirmed tightly. ‘But I can assure you that she is also one hundred per cent of sound mind!’

The Earl quirked blond brows. ‘I trust, Stroubridge, that you are not implying that she would have to be out of her mind to be attracted to me?’

‘And if I were?’

The older man shrugged. ‘I have already told you I will be more than happy to meet you at a time and place of your choosing…’

Yes, he had. But Hawk knew, despite what Jane had said minutes ago, that she would never forgive him if he should enter into a duel with the Earl of Whitney with her at the centre of it.

That he was even thinking of doing so told Hawk just how ludicrous this situation had become.

He was the Duke of Stourbridge. The formidably correct Duke of Stourbridge. A man with a deliberately spotless reputation. A man he had heard his peers hold up to their children as an example of one of the finest members of the aristocracy, for them to emulate.

And yet here he was, on the terrace of his own family seat, contemplating challenging another man to a duel over a young woman who had already told him how much she deplored such behaviour.

‘I do not believe Jane would approve,’ he said flatly.

The Earl arched mocking brows. ‘And that concerns you?’

‘That surprises you?’ Hawk grated.

Whitney gave a derisive smile. ‘You know, Hawk, I still remember you when you were the disreputable Marquis of Mulberry. Before you became every inch the superior Duke of Stourbridge.’

Hawk stiffened. ‘Meaning?’

The older man shrugged. ‘Meaning you might do well to remember it too sometimes.’

Hawk shook his head. ‘I have no idea what you are talking about.’

But he did know.

Life had been much simpler ten years ago. Hawk had been a different person then. As Marquis of Mulberry he had only been heir to the Dukedom, and as such able to be as riotously devil-may-care as he knew Sebastian now was.

But that had been in a different life. And he a different man. He was the Duke of Stourbridge now, with all the responsibility that title implied. He could no longer do what he wanted without thought to the consequences.

‘In my opinion, your Jane Smith is unique, Stourbridge.’ The Earl nodded towards the direction Jane had taken when she had left them so abruptly.

‘A young woman to be priced above—I believe Jane is wearing pearls this evening, Stourbridge? Your mother’s pearls, are they not…?’ he taunted softly.

Hawk stiffened. ‘What if they are?’

‘Idle curiosity on my part. That is all.’ The Earl shrugged uninterestedly. ‘But be assured, Hawk, that if you do not care to claim Jane for your own, then some other lucky man soon will.’

Hawk’s jaw clenched. ‘Not you!’

The Earl gave a humourless smile. ‘No, not me,’ he conceded wryly. ‘Although I am sure that not even the estimable Jane would dismiss the idea of becoming the Countess of Whitney.’

Hawk eyed the other man scornfully. ‘And we all know how devoted you were to your last Countess!’

‘Have a care, Stourbridge,’ Whitney grated harshly, all humour gone as his eyes glittered dangerously in the darkness. ‘Just because I did not love my wife, it does not mean that I am incapable of understanding the emotion—’

‘Understanding it, perhaps,’ Hawk conceded derisively. ‘But feeling it? Somehow I do not think so.’

‘I have loved, Stourbridge,’ the other man bit out coldly. ‘Too much to ever feel the emotion for another woman! I—’

‘Ah, there you are, Hawk,’ Arabella greeted him brightly as she came out onto the terrace. ‘And the Earl of Whitney, too,’ she recognised happily. ‘The absence of two such eligible gentlemen has left some of the ladies in desperate need of dancing partners for the next set,’ she added, with a playful tap of her fan on the Earl’s arm.

The last thing Hawk felt like doing at the moment was playing the polite host to Arabella guests—male or female. In fact, he had never felt less polite in his life!

‘As long as you will promise to be my partner, I will indeed return to the ballroom, Lady Arabella,’ the Earl drawled in reply to her rebuke.

‘Hawk…?’

‘Oh, I believe your brother has…some urgent business about the estate he has to take care of before he is free to rejoin us,’ the Earl dismissed lightly as he drew Arabella’s hand into the crook of his arm. ‘Is that not so, Stourbridge?’ he added, with a challenging glance in Hawk’s direction.

Hawk met the other man’s gaze in a silent battle of wills, knowing Jane to be the ‘urgent business’Whitney referred to.

‘Hawk…?’ Arabella said uncertainly as the silence stretched between the two men. ‘Surely whatever it is it can wait until morning…?’

‘Doubtful, hmm, Stourbridge?’ the Earl drawled mockingly.

Hawk gave the other man one last narrow-eyed glance before turning to his sister. ‘I will rejoin you as soon as I am free to do so, Arabella.’ He could not, after all, simply return to the ballroom when he knew Jane was alone somewhere out in the garden.

‘Oh, very well,’ his sister accepted, with an impatient flick of her fan.

‘Our dance, I believe, Lady Arabella?’ the Earl prompted smilingly, as the sound of the quartet of musicians hired for the evening could be heard once more.

Hawk waited until his sister and the Earl had returned to the ballroom before turning his narrowed gaze in the direction of the garden. But he could detect no sign of movement either on the lawns or along the hedges to indicate Jane’s presence.

Where could Jane have disappeared to so completely? The stables once again? Or somewhere else?