After The Storm (18 page)

Once again, just as he had so many times over the
years, he wondered how his father could have loved such a
self-absorbed creature.

~
Twelve ~

Love is like the wild rose-briar;

Friendship like the holly-tree.

The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms,

But which will bloom most constantly?

—Emily Bronte

JASON KNOCKED ON his wife’s door, and she bade him
enter. He stood in the doorway, looking to Jenny like the
embodiment of elegant masculinity in a cutaway dinner coat of
superfine blue, a white silk waistcoat, and dark blue pantaloons.
His black shiny hair fell about his handsome face, and Jenny had a
very strong desire to melt into his arms.

Husband and wife gazed at one another admiringly, and
Jason whispered, “Jenny, you are exquisite. This red gown suits
you, and I love your hair cascading about your shoulders—it is most
becoming.” He reached over and touched one long ringlet before
letting it drop to her bare shoulder.

“Will I need a shawl do you think,” she asked
demurely.

“Loathe as I am to cover any part of you, I am afraid
you might, as the castle is always drafty.”

She saw his gaze travel to the low-cut bodice, and
she fingered it. “Oh … is this perhaps too low? Shall I cover
it with a bit of lace?”

“No, you are ravishing, and I am proud to have you on
my arm,” he said, linking her fingers into the crook of his arm as
he led her away.

They entered what he called the informal dining room,
and she bolstered herself to meet with the earl’s family, who
watched their entrance. She noticed at once that it was an unusual
room, as it housed, in addition to a tremendous dining table and
long sideboard wall table, a sofa and many chairs, most of which
fringed the enormous fireplace. Looking regal on the most ornate of
the chairs, with a young man standing on either side of her and a
servant bending over to offer her a glass of sherry on a silver
tray, Diane sat as though holding court.

Two other servants came and went through a rear door,
which Jenny assumed led to the kitchen, but conversation in the
room seemed to stop all at once upon their entrance.

Jason called her attention to a tall and casually
dressed young man who had stepped forward, and as Jenny raised her
eyes to him she felt a short gasp in her throat. Here was the most
beautiful and angelic man she had ever seen. His hair was the same
shade of white gold as his mother’s; there was no mistaking the
resemblance, although she was struck by the boyish innocence of his
face, much in contrast with his mother’s hardened countenance. His
brows were sandy and well defined, his eyes pale blue in a face
that was lean and angular. He was nearly as tall as Jason, though
leaner, less muscular. His smile was bright and welcoming, and
Jenny liked him at once.

“So, this is my sister?” Bradley of Danfield beamed.
“Welcome … Jenny—I understand you like to be called, and I am
Brad.”

“Yes, Jenny is fine, thank you, Brad.” She inclined
her head and gave him a mischievous smile as he unbent from the
fingers he had lightly brushed with a kiss.

“By Jove, Jason, you have caught yourself a prize!”
he said to his brother and then turned back to her. “Are there
anymore like you? Do you have a sister perhaps in that outlandish
place you come from?” A tease lined his words.

She laughed. “No sisters, but as to others like me,
you will have to visit and see for yourself, and I’ll warrant you
won’t find it outlandish,” she teased right back.

“No siblings then?” he asked curiously.

“Well, as to that, now I have you and Gwen,” she
said, feeling strangely at ease with him.

“’
Pon rep
you do!” he answered with
enthusiasm.

The earl took her elbow and with a nod at his younger
brother maneuvered her into position to meet another young man,
obviously waiting to be presented. Tall, with a shock of
auburn-colored hair he wore in loose waves about his attractive
face, he stepped towards her and made her a quick bow. When he
brought his gaze to hers, she saw a solemnity about his brown eyes
in contrast with his youth. His clothes were carelessly put
together on a frame that was a bit too thin.

The earl introduced him as Howard Danfield, and Jenny
pulled her cream-colored shawl about her shoulders when she noticed
his gaze linger a moment too long on the swells above her
bodice.

They’d passed a few pleasantries when a young woman
with an average height and looks came forward and was presented as
Helen Browne. She wore a drab gown of gray, and her hair was tied
in a loose bun at the nape of her neck. Her eyes were fine, dark
and quite pretty, Jenny thought.

“Miss Browne is governess to our Wendall rascals,”
said the earl, at which point two young boys came flying into the
room.

“Hallo!” said the elder of the two lads coming
straight up to Jenny. “I am Robert, and this,” he said, pulling his
brother forward by his sleeve, “is my brother Peter. He is only
nine, but
I am
eleven, you know.”

Jenny smiled at them both, noting that they had
unruly brown hair, freckles, and open smiles. She allowed Robert to
see that she was very impressed with this information and said, “Oh
my, quite grown up, aren’t you?”

“Nearly,” Robert answered proudly.

Miss Browne chided the boys as she took charge of
them and tried to steer them away, but the earl had his arms out
and called to them, “Well now, my buckos, don’t I get a
welcome?”

Both boys pounced on him, and Jenny smiled to herself
watching them interact. It was obvious the boys idolized him. Out
of the corner of her eye, she noticed that their governess was
looking not at them but at the earl, though her gaze strayed to
Brad as well, once or twice.

A lackey announced dinner, and they filed toward the
dining table. It was a long table, and Jenny was dismayed to find
that even in the informal dining room they maintained formal dining
etiquette at Danfield. She was at one end of the table and the earl
at the other. However, when his eyes met hers, she felt caressed
and calmed all at once.

Howard Danfield sat on Jenny’s right, while Brad
armed her left. The dowager took up position beside the earl, with
the young governess at his other elbow. The Wendall boys sat across
from each other, at the center of the table.

Robert leaned over to look at Jenny and announced
proudly, “This is a special treat, my lady. We normally take our
dinner in the schoolroom.”

“Then it is a treat for me as well,” returned Jenny,
and he smiled broadly.

Conversation with the quiet Howard, was, Jenny found,
both dull and trying. However, what intrigued her were the glances
passed between him and the dowager.

This was soon put aside, for if Howard’s dinner wit
was wanting, Brad more than made up for it. He kept up a steady
flow of conversation that was both amusing and interesting. It
wasn’t long before she felt as though they were friends.

“Dash it, Brad,” said Howard, objecting to something
his cousin had said. “You must own that Hyde Park is nothing when
compared to our riding paths through the downs and pine
forests.”

“Aye, I do own that, but, Howard, I’d rather
expatiate in the hub of London than in all your downs, forests, and
deserts.” He sighed heavily. “At any rate, I know all the paths and
roads here and around …
bored
,” Brad returned.

“Bored?” Howard clucked. “How can you be so? I love
these lands.”

“Deuce take it, man—’tis naught but the same woods,
same trees, same! There is no excitement in the knowing. And I
detest our bumpy, unkempt roads and some blackguard roaring for a
tuppence at a turnpike. That is what we have here in the so-called
wilds,” Brad pronounced happily, his smile belying his words.

“But, Brad,” said Jenny, jumping in, noting that her
husband was in deep conversation with the governess, “when you are
in the country, nothing is the same. Each morning there is a new
bud, a changing sky, a bit of life scurrying through the grass on
its daily maneuvers.”

“Yes, but in London, the fashionables strut, the
conversation is forever changing as the gossip moves from one
subject to another, and it is that lively hub that pulls at
me.”

“You are, my boy, a sad rattle,” Howard told him with
a shake of his head and one of his rare smiles.

“Aye, that I am. But I can remember a time, Howard,
when we rattled together over this old place in search of
excitement. You were not so prune-faced then, my friend.” Brad
turned back to Jenny. “Don’t le him bamboozle you, Jenny. He really
has all the proper spirits at bottom!”

“Pray, but he is so staid now that I find that hard
to believe,” teased Jenny.

“Ah, but you needed to see his face when we
discovered the priest’s hole together,” Brad replied
portentously.

“Priest’s hole?” Jenny almost clapped her hands. “Oh,
how wonderful! Never say you have one here. Brad, you must show it
to me at once.”

Brad cast her a mischievous look. “I say, Jen, should
love to, but what would Jason say about it? Might want to show it
to you himself.”

She looked at the other end of the table to where her
husband was now leaning in to hear something or other that the
governess was imparting to him, and a wave of jealously moved
through her. “Very well, I shall ask him to do so, but if he does
not, then
you
shall—promise?”

He laughed good-naturedly. “Naughty puss, making
demands already, but, yes, anything you want, Jenny.”

When dinner was over, Miss Helen took her two young
charges along with her. Once again, Jenny was quick to observe the
woman’s dark eyes resting on Jason’s face.

The boys stopped to kiss Jason and then ran to her,
and during this time Jenny caught a look that passed between Howard
and the dowager that she found astonishing. Just what was going on
here at Danfield Castle, she mused to herself. Could Brad’s mama
actually be romantically involved with Howard, so much younger?
Well, she knew this might be so, for Mac enjoyed the company of
older women.

“Whist!” announced Brad jovially. “Let’s have a
game.”

His mother, however, announced that she was tired and
meant to retire to her room for some light reading. Jenny watched
her leave with a sense of deliverance; the woman made her feel
extremely uncomfortable. She had no idea why and did not at that
moment have the time to contemplate it, as even Howard had lost his
prosy countenance and was setting up the cards at the table,
joining the easy jesting going on between Brad and her husband. She
smiled to herself, for she could see that the earl had a genuine
fondness for his younger brother, and she was glad of it.

Some two hours had passed when Bradley threw down his
cards with disgust and uttered, “What a mean hand that was.” He
stretched out his long arms above his head, got up from the table,
and made his leisurely way to the decanter of brandy adorning a
marble-topped server.

He poured three glasses and asked Jenny over his
shoulder if she wished for anything. She declined, and he handed
first one glass to his brother and then the other to his cousin.
Taking his own in his two hands, he dropped himself in his seat
again and said, “Jason, I wonder if we might discuss something
before you retire tonight?”

Jenny heard the hesitation in Brad’s tone and
wondered at it as she watched the earl’s face. His was a mask, and
she could not tell what he felt or thought at that moment, but he
said, “Of course, Brad.”

He was rewarded with a broad grin, and the game
continued. Nearly another hour passed when Jenny, who was beginning
to feel the effects of the day, pushed away from the table and
exclaimed, “
Faith
, ’tis past midnight! My goodness,
gentlemen, it has been very enjoyable indeed, but I beg you will
excuse me.”

Three men immediately rose to their feet, but only
Brad expressed his desire for her to remain. She looked at the
earl, who said softly, “Shall I see you to your room, my
sweet?”

She shook her head. “Oh, no, I know the way now.” Out
of the corner of her eye she saw Brad’s expression and knew he was
thinking that she and the earl did not behave at all like
newlyweds. She sighed sadly to herself, made it to her room, and
undressed without the aid of her new maid, whom she had told not to
wait up.

She climbed into bed and thought of the earl with
longing. Had she killed any desire he might have to be with
her … to kiss her? Had she done that the other night? And with
that thought came another. She had not thought of Johnny at all,
all night.

She tossed and turned and then went very still when
she heard the earl in the adjoining anteroom. She had seen the room
he used as his dressing room also housed a cot, and with a grimace
she heard it creak. Had he climbed into bed without even trying to
visit with her?

No knock sounded at her door, and even as she punched
her pillow, she heard his cot creak again. She was going to have to
do something if she wanted to win his heart.

She knew he had not quite gotten her words out of his
mind, even though they had said it was behind them. No doubt he no
longer wanted to chance romancing her.

Did she want that? No, she wanted him to return to
that flirtatious man, full with desire for her.

Would she be able to dispel his pride and entice him
to try again? Her father had once told her that ‘pride kills’.
Right then, perhaps pride did just that, for she certainly felt
like she was dying inside. Would she have to take her own pride and
set it aside—invite him to do the same, invite him into her
arms?

The notion thrilled her, but had she ruined her
chances with the earl? Could she make him forget those horrible
words? Or would he forever think that when she was in his arms she
was pretending he was Johnny?