Andrea Pickens - [Lessons in Love 01] (10 page)

Peter was awarded a blue ribbon, then walked his horse, with Saybrook still at its head, toward where the marquess's own stallion was tethered. Jane sighed and mounted her own horse. She had enjoyed it at Highwood. Now what was she to do? On the ride back, she rued her blasted quick tongue. Once again, it had landed her in the suds.

* * *

Jane sat on her bed surveying the meager pile of belonging ready to be packed in her small trunk. She suddenly realized that she had not enough money for the coach ride back to her father's estate, even if she took outside passage. Certainly, there was nothing for an inn. To be sure, she was owed some amount for the time she had spent at Highwood, but she could not bring herself to ask Lord Saybrook for anything. With a slight frown of dismay she wondered whether she might have to sleep in a field tonight. And she hadn't even decided if she would go home in any case.

But what else was she to do?

In the middle of mulling over the problem, a knock came at the door. She sighed and bid whomever it was to enter. Perhaps Mrs. Fairchild had heard of her being turned out and had come to say goodbye. If so, Jane decided that she might be able to bring herself to borrow a few shillings from her. But most likely it was a footman, ready to toss her out the door, she thought glumly. Which was no doubt what she deserved.

The door opened slowly and Peter's smiling face appeared behind it. He rushed to her arms, already talking excitedly.

"Did you see my ribbon?" he demanded, not waiting for an answer. "I was a little scared—just a little—but I knew I could do it! Uncle Edward says that it was a tip-top performance!"

"It was indeed."

"And I'm to have supper with him in the real dining room. With silver candlesticks and champagne!"

Jane laughed. "Oh, very grand."

"Yes," continued the boy, "And I asked if you could come too..."

"Peter!" she exclaimed. "You—"

"...and he said yes, of course, and that I should come and ask you to join us."

Jane was thrown into a state of confusion. "But Peter," she said gently. "It's not proper for a servant to dine with the master."

He looked at her in consternation. "But why not? Uncle Edward said it is quite alright."

"He didn't say exactly that, I'll wager," she muttered, but she didn't have the heart to spoil the boy's day. If the marquess could bear it, so could she. "Very well then, I shall be delighted to attend."

"He says to be there at seven."

"I shall come by your room ten minutes beforehand. You must look your best if you are to grace His Lordship's table."

When the boy had hurried off, she sank down on her bed, relieved that at least for tonight she didn't have to worry about where she would sleep. Surely he wouldn't expect her to leave in the dead of night?

As she considered the matter, she thought some more about Lord Saybrook himself. He must have a softer side, one she certainly hadn't seen yet, not to want to spoil Peter's enjoyment of the day. After all, it was going well beyond the bounds of duty to include her at his dining table, especially after what had taken place. Why, the very sight of her must put him off his appetite! And obviously Peter had not been told she was leaving.

She shook her head. It had been a very strange day.

At the stroke of seven Jane ushered Peter into the dining room. It was a vast space, with dark oak paneling and an impressive chandelier that winked sparkles of light from the myriad candles in among the crystal. The table was just as imposing, massive with carved legs and a breadth that seemed to dwarf the three place settings at the end nearest the marble fireplace.

Lord Saybrook was already in the room. A glass of champagne in his hand, he stood by the crackling blaze, staring into the flames as if lost in thought. She noticed with a start how very handsome he was, now that his face didn't have the cold, sardonic look that normally played on his features. Silhouetted by the firelight, his profile seemed softer, more vulnerable.

At the sound of their steps he looked up, and the moment was gone. His mouth hardened and his eyes became cooler.

Though she had donned her best navy merino gown, Jane felt flush of self-consciousness as she observed Saybrook regarding her. His superbly tailored black coat fit him to perfection, understated, yet elegant, and a waistcoat of burgundy silk showed beneath it. A white linen shirt rose to moderate points and the starched neck cloth fell in a perfect Waterfall knot. His riding breeches had been replaced by pantaloons which fit snugly over a pair of soft Moroccan boots—he had certainly "dressed" for dinner. Jane felt woefully dowdy, then realized it was most likely exactly how she was supposed to feel.

With exaggerated politeness, Saybrook bowed slightly to her and indicated the chair to his right.

"Peter, perhaps you will do the honors with Miss Langley's chair."

Jane had not dared meet his gaze as yet, not knowing quite what to expect, or how to react. When she finally did so, his eyes betrayed no emotion at all, as if nothing untoward had occurred between them. For some reason, that made her feel even more uncomfortable.

Saybrook lifted the bottle of champagne from the silver cooler and filled the goblet at her place, then splashed a touch in Peter's glass.

"A toast. To Peter's equestrian accomplishments. My congratulations, lad."

The boy colored with pleasure as the two adults lifted their glasses. He sniffed at the bubbly drink then cautiously tasted it.

"It tickles!" he cried. "And it tastes awful."

"It improves with age—one's own, that is," remarked Saybrook dryly. "Don't you agree?"

Jane managed a nod.

Two footmen brought in the first course, and if they were surprised at seeing the boy and his governess dining with the master their impassive faces gave no hint of it, though Jane was sure it would be the talk of the servant quarters.

Try as she might, Jane found it difficult to relax and take some enjoyment from the evening. Usually she would appreciate the irony inherent in the whole situation and would laugh at it, but tonight she felt only a certain glumness. Her reticence led to rather long lapses in the conversation, though she did notice that Saybrook made an effort to converse with Peter, something he obviously had little practice in doing. But the boy, still flushed with excitement, was happy to prattle on, regardless.

Suddenly, the marquess spoke directly to her. "Do you always wear spectacles?"

"Why, n-no," she faltered. "That is, they're rather new and I don't need them all the time."

"Perhaps they are not suited to you."

"Why is that?" She was curious as to why he would remark on it.

"Because you appear to be squinting most of the time. Maybe you would be more comfortable if you removed them."

Flustered, Jane plucked them off her nose and shoved them into her pocket.

"An improvement," murmured Saybrook, a slight twitch at the corners of his mouth.

"How would you know that?" she demanded.

"To your appearance," he shot back.

Jane lowered her eyes to her plate. So that was his plan in inviting her to dine—to humiliate her in payment for what she had done that afternoon before he turned her out. She bit off any retort, determined not to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had discomfited her.

When the final covers had been removed, Saybrook turned to Peter. "And what do you usually do until your bedtime?"

"Miss Langley has been teaching me to play chess."

His eyebrows shot up. "Chess? How interesting. Why don't you run along and set up the board in the drawing room while Miss Langley and I have a word together in the library."

Jane rose wordlessly. No doubt he had been savoring this moment throughout dinner. But she smiled to herself. There was really nothing else he could do to her—she was already dismissed.

She followed him into the library when a fire blazed, casting a rosy glow over the polished wood paneling. Saybrook walked deliberately to the side table and poured himself a brandy. He swirled it round in his glass, then went to stand by the fire. Jane, too, remained on her feet though he had gestured for her to take a seat. The marquess leaned an elbow on the mantel and crossed his legs nonchalantly. But instead of speaking right away, he kept his gaze riveted on the glass in his hand.

Jane lifted her chin just a little, thinking that he was probably enjoying himself. She was sure he was about to ring a blistering peal over her head, but on consideration, she had to admit that she deserved it. Her behavior had been outside the pale this afternoon. It was a wonder that Saybrook had allowed her to set foot back in his house, not to speak of actually sitting down to dine with her. It must have cost him a considerable effort, for which he was entitled to be repaid. She resolved to bear his tirade in silence, keep her tongue in check and leave with as much of her dignity intact as she could.

When he finally raised his eyes, Jane was surprised to see not anger but a strange expression that she couldn't fathom. Disconcerted, she dropped her own eyes and waited for him to speak.

"You are packed?" he asked quietly.

She nodded.

There was a pause as if he expected her to say something. Perhaps he thought she would beg for another chance? She knew things were way too far gone for that and remained silent.

His fingers drummed on the polished wood. He took a sip of the spirits in his glass. Then abruptly, he spoke again.

"You should remain at Highwood—if you please," though the last words were added grudgingly, it was more of a statement than a request.

"You must be jesting," breathed Jane. It was the last thing she expected. "After what happened this afternoon..."

Saybrook ignored her. "The change in Peter has been nothing short of remarkable. I prefer that he stay in your care. I will make it worth your while—consider your salary doubled."

She stared at him in disbelief. "You cannot buy people, my lord!"

He smiled, a cold, bitter smile. "I just have. You are staying, aren't you?"

"For Peter's sake, yes," she replied. "But I shall not accept a single penny more than what Mrs. Fairchild hired me for."

"Suit yourself."

All vows of curbing her tongue went flying out the window. "And if I didn't think that the poor child needs someone to show him a little warmth and affection, don't think for a moment that I would remain here another instant."

"Another reminder of how sadly my character is lacking. How kind of you to inform me," remarked Saybrook, his voice heavy with sarcasm. "Pray, may I request that the next time you feel obliged to inform me of my countless defects in character you choose to do it in a private manner such as this." He had not raised his tone, but his voice was taut with barely controlled anger.

Jane could think of nothing to say. Part of her was furious at his high-handed manner, while part of her acknowledged his right to be angered and humiliated by her actions at the fair. And part of her was happy that she didn't have to leave Highwood.

"Am I excused, my lord?"

"Indeed you are not," he muttered. "But yes, you may go."

She hurried through the door, letting it shut with something suspiciously like a slam.

Saybrook swore under his breath and downed the glass in a single swallow.

* * *

"You had best keep an eye on your King's knight," cautioned Jane. Peter looked up at her quickly, an accusing look breaking his mask of concentration. "I was going to move it," he said. "To there." His small fingers grasped the ivory figure and placed it near her Queen.

Jane frowned in mock consternation. "I seem to be in the suds now. Peter, you have gotten quite good at this."

The boy grinned as she pondered how to allow him to checkmate her without being too obvious. Suddenly she was aware of a shadow falling over her.

"Uncle Edward! I have Miss Jane in check," announced Peter.

Saybrook surveyed the board. He was still dressed formally in black but his cravat had been loosened, giving him a more informal look, and his hands were thrust into his trouser pockets.

"Indeed you have. And your response, Miss Langley?"

Jane moved her piece. It was a clever piece of thinking which gave the boy a victory only if he was advanced enough to see it.

Saybrook's face remained impassive at her move, but he watched Peter intently. The boy studied the board carefully, taking his time. When he made to advance his bishop, he hesitated, almost making the wrong move, then quickly corrected himself and placed it on a different square.

"Check!"

"Mate," added the marquess softly. "Well done, lad." He smiled faintly at the boy, who beamed with pleasure.

Jane tipped her Queen over in defeat. "And now young man, I think it's well past your bedtime."

For a moment, it looked as if Peter might try to argue, but then his face brightened. "Oh, very well. I want to hear what happens to Galahad."

Saybrook cocked an eyebrow at Jane. "Galahad?"

"It is King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, my lord," she replied as she rose from her chair. "I trust you do not disapprove—it was in the schoolroom library."