Andrea Pickens - [Lessons in Love 01] (11 page)

"I am familiar with it," he remarked dryly. "Illiteracy is not one of my faults."

Jane flushed.

Turning back to the boy, he asked," Does Miss Langley read to you every night?"

"Oh yes. It is very exciting. There is jousting and swordplay and Sir Galahad was very brave, but he was hurt and... would you like to listen too?"

Saybrook looked surprised.

"Peter," said Jane softly. "I'm sure His Lordship has more important..."

"Yes, I would." To Jane's amazement, he reached out his hand to the boy and the two of them headed for the stairs together, leaving Jane to follow behind.

When Peter was settled into his bed, Jane placed the candle on the nightstand and moved her chair closer to the light. Opening the leather-bound volume to where they had left off, she began to read, furious with herself that her voice seemed a trifle unsteady.

Saybrook had moved to take a chair, but leaned shoulder against the wall, arms folded across his chest, near the foot of the bed. He had placed his own candle on the dresser so his features were unreadable in the flickering shadows but his very presence was unsettling. She was sure he was intent on rattling her—why else had he sought their company when he had never done so before.

She read on, never raising her eyes from the pages, fighting to keep her voice even so that he wouldn't have the satisfaction of knowing he made her nervous.

The chapter seemed to go on forever. But thankfully she noted that the boy's eyes were beginning to droop and closed the book.

"I think that's enough for today, Peter."

Peter voiced a sleepy protest, which was cut off in mid-sentence by a big yawn. She ruffled his hair. "It will wait to tomorrow."

"Very well," he sighed. "It's a ripping yarn, isn't it, Uncle Edward."

"Quite," came the reply from the shadows.

"Do you think I might ride with you sometime?" continued the boy. "Like tomorrow?"

"Peter," said Jane in a low voice. "You mustn't pester your uncle."

"I beg pardon..." apologized Peter, but Saybrook interrupted him.

"I must ride out with my steward in the morning but perhaps after lunch you would like to accompany me to see Fleming's sheep. I believe they are shearing tomorrow. That is, if Miss Langley agrees that it will not interfere with your lessons."

Jane could feel his eyes upon her.

"Oh, Miss Jane, may I?"

"If it pleases His Lordship, of course you may. But only if you promise to go to sleep now. You've had quite enough excitement for one day." She couldn't refrain from smiling when she saw that the boy's eyes had closed before she had finished her sentence.

Once in the hallway Jane meant to hurry off to her room. For her, too, more than enough had happened to occupy her thoughts. But she was stopped by Saybrook's voice, low and quite close behind her.

"Do you play, Miss Langley?"

She turned in confusion. "Sir?"

"Chess," he replied. "It was a thoughtful move you made with Peter. I wondered if perhaps you have any skill whatsoever in the game. Or was it merely luck? Would you care to try? I find I don't feel quite ready to retire." His eyes locked with hers and the corners of his mouth quirked up in a faintly mocking smile. "But of course you may be tired after such a... trying day."

Jane could see the challenge in his gaze and sensed that he expected her to decline. So, though she had no desire to spend any more time in the marquess's company, she answered coolly, "I am not at all fatigued. If you command, I shall try to oblige you with an adequate match."

"It was not an order Miss Langley," he said softly. "It was a request."

"As I said, I am willing."

Saybrook led the way, to the library this time instead of the drawing room. He banked the fire into a roaring blaze and pored himself another brandy. On the corner of his desk was a magnificent ivory set arranged on a board of black and white marble. He motioned Jane to take a seat across from him and spun the board to offer her white.

She shook her head. "We shall draw for sides."

A slight smile creased his face. "As you wish."

Taking a pawn in each hand, he shuffled them behind his back and held out both fists towards her. She pointed to the right one. It opened to reveal a white one.

They played for over an hour in silence, each so intent on the play unfolding before them that their eyes never once met. Jane had been deliberating her next move for some minutes She finally made up her mind and went move her rook when suddenly the marquess's hand shot out, his long, slender fingers covering her own. She was so taken aback that she nearly knocked the remaining pieces from the board. He didn't release her, however, but said under his breath, "I should think you might want to think a moment more."

Flustered, her eyes roamed the board but all she was aware of was the feeling of strength he radiated, even though his touch was light, and how warm his fingers felt on hers. A faint flush stole to her cheeks and she bent her head lower, praying he wouldn't notice. Finally, his hand slipped from hers. He waited patiently, saying no more.

She gathered her wits enough to correct her mistake and was relieved that Saybrook continued on without another word. The end took no more than ten minutes. He executed a series of sophisticated attacks that left her defenseless.

"Oh, well played, my lord," she exclaimed in admiration. When she realized what she had said, another blush rose to her face. It was shocking to have spoken to him in such a friendly, familiar manner.

But instead of the set-down she expected, a genuine smile appeared fleetingly on Saybrook's face, the first she had ever seen.

"Approval from Miss Langley," he laughed. "Now that is high praise indeed!"

Jane averted her eyes, His tone had been light, bantering, but she chose to misunderstand it.

"I beg your pardon, my lord," she said stiffly." I deserve your sarcasm for speaking to you in such a manner. I assure you I will endeavor to keep a rein on my tongue."

He shot her a penetrating look, as if trying to fathom her feelings. "It was not..." he began, then stopped abruptly. His face resumed its rigid lines. The moment was past.

"Where did you learn to play? You have some skill. It is not something I would expect from someone of your background."

Jane's spine stiffened. So he was back to insulting her.
Odious man!

"No, of course you wouldn't. You have made it quite clear what you think of governesses." She noted he had the grace to color slightly at having his own bad manners flung back at him. "I became childhood friends with a squire's daughter, an only child, and was fortunate enough to be invited to share lessons with her. Her father taught us both to play, but only I had the inclination to continue. I dare say I learned a few things from him."

"I see. And what family was that?"

Jane had decided on the story of the squire's family to answer any questions about her background. It was safest to stay close to the truth, and the story was true for Miss Langley. However she hadn't expected any real probing.

"A minor family," she said quickly. "Younger son... never goes to London....And now, I you will excuse me, sir, I would like to retire."

He raised an eyebrow but made no comment. He merely gave a short nod.

* * *

Saybrook pored himself another brandy after Jane had left, then settled into a comfortable armchair near the fire. Stretching out his long legs, he stared into the flames while letting the amber spirits warm his insides. Why was it he always seemed to feel so cold here? He looked at his glass. He was drinking more than was good for him, he mused. He should watch himself—but it seemed to be the only thing that dulled the pain.

He let his mind wander back over the day's events. What had possessed him to allow that impertinent slip of a governess to stay on rather than sending her packing without references? He shook his head. He had been furious, but had also felt a grudging admiration for the spirit and courage it took for her to speak, knowing full well that it meant instant dismissal. He had also known that her anger had stemmed from concern for Peter. For that he was sincerely grateful.

And she had been right. That he could not argue, he told himself with brutal honesty. He had been behaving dismally, no matter that there were....

He took another deep swallow of brandy.

In any case, he wouldn't dismiss a servant for speaking the truth, no matter how much it stung. And then suddenly, he nearly shouted with laughter—she had threatened to horsewhip him, the impudent chit! It was truly outside of enough.

Miss Jane Langley.
Her story explained why her bearing and demeanor were unlike that of a simple farm girl. Still, he had the feeling there was more to the story than she had let on. His eyes fell half-closed as he regarded the flames. But why was he even thinking of a sharp-tongued governess, one who seemed to make sparks fly whenever he got near her.

It was well enough to know that Peter was in good hands. He could leave Highwood with a clear conscience.

Givens entered the room, then stopped short when he saw Saybrook was sprawled in a chair. "Your pardon, my lord. I didn't realize you were still up. Shall I stoke the fire for you?"

"No, Givens. You may retire. I shall see to things myself."

"But sir," remonstrated the butler.

"I am perfectly capable of banking a fire and carrying my own candle upstairs." Saybrook smiled at the old retainer. "Off to bed with you, and that is an order."

"Yes, Mister Edward," replied Givens fondly. "Though I daresay you should sleep yourself." He looked with concern at the glass in Saybrook's hand, making him feel as if he were eight years old again.

"I will," replied the marquess though it was another few hours and glasses of brandy before he headed to his own chambers.

Chapter 5

Jane slipped into the stables and smiled a greeting at the young groom mucking out stalls.

"Mister Henry 'as 'er all saddled up fer ye, Miss," he piped.

A mist still lay over the fields. The early morning sun was not yet strong enough to penetrate its hazy whiteness and a coolness hung in the air, though summer was fast approaching. Dew clung to the grass and leaves, dampening the sounds of the birds and crickets.

Jane loved the stillness of this time of day, the feeling of peace and solitude. Almost more than anything else, it was the luxury of being alone that she missed. As a servant, she had precious little time for herself. She was lucky that Henry seemed to understand this need of hers and made no objection to her riding early in the morning before anyone else was up.

Today she had her favorite mount, a spirited filly, full in the chest, who loved to run all out if given her head. It was all Jane could do to check her eagerness until they came out of the wooded trail and into rolling pastureland, where the ground was still redolent with the sweet smell of freshly cut hay. The clouds were beginning to break up and the scattered patches of blue promised a glorious day. Jane smiled as the filly tossed her head again, tugging impatiently at the reins.

"Yes, yes, Bodicea," she murmured. "Let's fly!" Putting her heels to the horse's flanks, she let the animal have her head.

The wind whipped at her face and hair. Jane felt like shouting for the sheer pleasure of it. She bent low in the saddle and urged her mount on.
Faster, faster
. The hooves pounded a staccato rhythm on the earth.

Suddenly she was aware of something odd. A new sound had joined in, an accompanying pounding. Puzzled, she was about to pull up and look around for its source when out of the corner of her eye she noticed a black shape shooting up to her. Then an arm shot out, grabbing her bridle and wrenching her filly to an easy trot, then a walk.

"Are you alright?" snapped a by-now-familiar voice.

She felt the sea green eyes looking her up and down. Seemingly satisfied that she was not injured, the voice continued, "What in Devil's name do you think you are doing riding such a horse. You could have been killed! Has Henry no more sense than to allow you to..."