Andrea Pickens - [Lessons in Love 01] (15 page)

He found himself wondering just what her figure was like underneath the shapeless, oversized dresses she wore. Were her breasts as firm and shapely as they sometimes seemed through the coarse material? And was her waist as slim as it appeared in her riding habit? What would her willowy form look like in a ball gown, with her shoulders bared. His eyes strayed back to the table... Good God, what was he thinking!

He slammed the glass down and stalked out of the room.

* * *

Another rainy day.
Jane watched the drops trace long, spindly patterns down the glass panes as she sat before the piano. She had felt strangely out of sorts since the previous evening. Perhaps it was the result of the brandy, but she didn't think so. It was just as well that Peter had run off to the stables to help the under groom polish tack, leaving her with a free hour.

She thumbed restlessly through a sheaf of music but nothing appealed to her. Finally she settled on a waltz. Perhaps its lilting melody would serve to lift her spirits. Her fingers started slowly, grudgingly, picking up the tempo as she went along. Indeed, it was hard to remain blue-deviled while playing such a piece.

So caught up was she in the music that she was unaware of Saybrook's presence until he leaned casually over the piano, his elbows resting on the polished wood. Her fingers came to a stop. He reached down and began playing where she had left off.

"Have you ever waltzed?" he asked, a glint of amusement in his eyes.

"Now what do you think, my lord," she answered evasively. "Though it must be rather fun." She thought longingly of the few dances she had been allowed to have after being approved by the Patronesses at Almack's.

"So it is." He kept playing. "Would you care to try?"

"Good Heavens, of course not. It would not be proper!"

"Ah, haven't been approved by the Dragons at Almack's?" he teased. "No matter. The rules are always more relaxed at a country home. Come, I hadn't thought you so poor-spirited as to be afraid of trying something new."

"I'm not afraid," she mumbled, turning away from him.

"Good!"

He stopped playing but kept humming the tune in his rich baritone. Taking her by the elbow, he guided her out to the middle of the floor.

"Now put your hand on my shoulder like this," he said as his arm slipped around her waist. "The steps are rather simple—just follow me."

He began humming again, his mouth close to her ear. She could feel the heat from his chest against hers, and the light pressure of his hand on the small of her back. He moved with a natural grace that made the dance seem effortless. Their steps flowed together as if they were one. She relaxed, letting herself draw closer to him. Gradually he picked up the tempo and they swirled around the room. As if by magic, she could hear violins and piano, feel the layered silk of an evening gown, see the glittering of candles and crystal, smell the fragrance of orange blossoms and roses. When she chanced to look up, she found him smiling at her, a strange warmth in his sea green eyes.

Shyly, she smiled back.

"Miss Jane! Uncle Edward! What are you doing?" Peter was standing in the doorway, watching them quizzically.

The spell was broken. Jane dropped her arm and pulled quickly away from the marquess. To her dismay, she could feel a deep blush creeping up her face.

"I am showing Miss Langley a waltz, imp," called Saybrook.

"Can I learn, too?"

Saybrook laughed. "When you are older."

"Are you ready for your lesson?" Jane smoothed at her skirts trying to hide her embarrassment.

Peter scampered towards the instrument, but Saybrook took Jane's arm as she turned to go. He was still smiling. "You dance very well, Miss Langley. You must promise me the first waltz if by chance we meet at a ball."

"What fustian, sir. You are teasing me again."

"Indeed I am not. Come, give me your promise."

Instead of lessening, the color in her face deepened. "Oh, very well," she breathed, in order to make him release her arm. His touch was beginning to make her feel lightheaded. "Though you are being quite ridiculous, you know."

Saybrook bowed to her in mock solemnity and left the room, the smile still on his lips.

Chapter 7

Peter struggled with the heavy wicker basket, refusing Jane's help even though it knocked him in the shin with every step. "I'm not a baby," he insisted. "And a gentleman always carries a parcel for a lady."

Jane refrained from smiling and wondered where he had picked up that nugget of information.

"Very well," she said. "I think we have picked a glorious day for our outing."

The morning light was a rich gold, playing off the hints of color in the oaks and maples near the stables. The air was getting crisper, hinting at a change of season, but the cloudless sky promised that by noon the day would be deliciously warm. Jane had looked outdoors when she rose and suddenly decided to declare a holiday from the schoolroom. Instead, they would take a long ride to visit the Abbey ruins that lay not more than four miles from Highwood. She had been meaning to take Peter there—it was a good history lesson she assured herself. And one should not waste such a glorious day!

As they reached the stables, Saybrook walked out from among the stalls. He had just returned from an early morning excursion with his steward to inspect a broken millstone. His coat of black superfine was draped over one arm and his cambric shirt was open at the neck, revealing a few curls of dark hair. The breeze had ruffled his locks and they fell rakishly across his forehead. Jane couldn't help but notice the way the light filtered through the thin material of his shirt, outlining the broad shoulders and narrow waist. The shirt was neatly tucked into skintight breeches, which were immaculate even though his Hessians were spattered with mud.

"Uncle Edward, Uncle Edward! We are going on a picnic. Look! Cook has picked this whole basket and I carried it all by myself."

"Well done, imp." Saybrook took the basket in one hand and swung the boy up on his shoulder. He fell in step with Jane. "A splendid day for a ride. Where do you go?"

"To Salston Abbey," she replied.

"Would you like to come too?" chirped the boy.

Saybrook cocked an eye at Jane. "I haven't been invited."

"Of course you are more than welcome to join us, my lord, if you don't think you would be too bored." Her mood suddenly felt even lighter. "Cook had prepared more than enough food."

"Oh please, sir!" added Peter, who seemed unwilling to unwind his small arms from around Saybrook's neck until he got a satisfactory answer. In consequence, the marquess's collar was twisted and the top few buttons of his shirt had been pulled undone.

"If you leave off strangling me, brat, I shall finish my business here and join you on the way. Hero could use a rousing gallop."

"Hooray!" cried the boy as he slid to the ground, half pulling Saybrook's shirt from his breeches.

Jane couldn't help giggling. "Let us be off, sir, while you are still in one piece."

He returned her grin and raised his eyes in mock apprehension. "Yes, I fear my valet will ring a peal over me, won't he."

A groom brought out the horses and Saybrook helped Jane to mount, then handed her the basket.

"I hope Peter has not ruined your day," she said in a low voice. "If you are too busy..."

"On the contrary, Miss Langley." His eyes had an expression she couldn't fathom. "I look forward to a most pleasant day." He glanced at the fast disappearing figure of Peter and his pony. "You had best be off too, before he lands in some mischief."

As Jane urged her horse forward, she couldn't help but wonder why it was that her stomach suddenly was feeling all aflutter.

The marquess was as good as his word. Well before they reached the Abbey the sound of galloping hooves announced the arrival of Hero and his master. As Saybrook reined the big stallion into an easy walk, Jane noticed that he, too, was carrying a basket. Surely Cook could not have sent more food! Her questioning glance went from it to Saybrook's face, but aside from a smug smile, he ignored her look and began to chat blandly about the weather and the prospects of the coming harvest.

Peter was less patient. After several minutes he could no longer contain his curiosity.

"What have you got in the basket, Uncle Edward?"

"You shall see later."

"But I want to know now."

"No."

The boy was silent for a bit. Then he spoke up again. "Miss Jane could make you tell me," he challenged.

"Miss Jane could do no such thing," answered Saybrook coolly. He turned a challenging gaze towards her.

He had never spoken her name before. Jane's stomach gave an odd little lurch—she didn't understand what was the matter with her today. For some reason she found it impossible to meet his look.

"Peter," she admonished, in order to hide her confusion. "You mustn't be impertinent."

"And just why do you think Miss Jane could make me tell you?" Saybrook asked the boy. Though his face was serious, the twinkle in his eyes gave hint that he was enjoying himself immensely. "I'm quite curious."

The boy thought for a moment. "Miss Jane has a way of looking at you that makes you feel you have to do what she says without any argument," he said. "And I heard Cook say so to Mrs. Fairchild as well. Mrs. Fairchild said yes, it seemed that any difficulty that arose, one had only to apply to Miss Jane and she would settle it because no one dared argue with her. The she said..." the boy paused. "I think she said there was an air about Miss Jane, as if she was to the manor born—what air cane be around Miss Jane that isn't around us?"

"Peter!" exclaimed Jane.

"How odd," remarked Saybrook dryly. "I was under the impression that I had something to do with running Highwood. What a relief to know it is in good hands."

"My lord," faltered Jane. "I don't know where he picks up such things.... He must have misunderstood something he overheard. It-it is nonsense..." She stopped, utterly at a loss for words. Her face was flaming and her eyes went to Saybrook in mute appeal.

"Please, this is a silly conversation—let us forget it," she managed to say.

"Ah, the look!" replied Saybrook, trying to suppress his mirth. "I see I dare not disobey such a command."

"My lord, you are making fun of me."

The marquess gave a shout of laughter as he spurred Hero into a canter. "Peter," he called. "There is the Abbey up ahead. Shall we race there?"

The two horses kicked up a cloud of dust, leaving Jane to settle her own swirling emotions as she made her own way towards the crumbling stone ruins.

* * *

Saybrook tethered their horses on a grassy knoll and took up both baskets. "I should like to show Peter the Abbey before luncheon, if you don't mind, sir," said Jane. "It is his history lesson for the day."

"Of course."

They had entered an open courtyard, and though the walls were now no taller than an average man's chest they formed a shelter from the breeze. The sun had warmed the grass and grey stone, making it feel quite pleasant. Saybrook placed both the large hamper and his smaller basket down and unfolded a large blanket that had been tucked on top of Cook's repast.

"This seems a perfect spot." He turned a questioning look to Jane and she nodded her approval.

"Now Peter, let us start with the main building. There is a fascinating story about it..." She took the boy's hand and led him away. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Saybrook take something from his basket and walk in an opposite direction. She thought she heard the sound of running water coming from somewhere over there, but as Peter was tugging at her hand, she quickly returned her attention to showing him around.

To her surprise, Saybrook joined them shortly thereafter. She hadn't expected him to show any interest in a tour of the ruins, but he fell in step with them, his hands clasped behind his back, his head slightly cocked as if attentive to her every word. In fact, she was acutely aware of his gaze, even with her back turned, as she explained to Peter the design of the buttresses in the transept of the ancient church.