Being, as she understood from the voluble Mrs. Chitterdean, on a repairing lease, Lord Royce could well turn his attention to Jane as the wealthier of the two, and that would certainly set the cat amongst the pigeons. And she could envision that circumstance, for though she deplored the public persona Jane adopted in London society, she was dismayed to perceive it faltering in the earl’s company. She had never witnessed that before. It boded ill.
"Pass me that bottle of oil, if you please, Jane," said Lady Elsbeth calmly. "What other plans are you making?"
"An alfresco breakfast on the terrace followed by some games, such as pall mall or an old-fashioned round of battledore and shuttlecock. Then perhaps we’ll encourage the gentlemen to play court tennis, billiards, or shovelboard; activities that will keep them together and away from the ladies."
"Serena will not find favor with that circumstance."
"Precisely."
"It might work," Lady Elsbeth said while measuring the mixture into a clean glass bottle.
"Of course it will work. Particularly since I intend to encourage the children’s company during all our daytime activities. If I know those boys, they will take Lady Tipton’s measure soon enough and delight in plaguing her. "
"Jane! I will not have those boys playing nasty tricks like—like toads in beds or—or worms in drinks."
Jane laughed. "Rest assured, though I have no love for my Aunt Serena, I would not descend to that level. After all, she is my mother’s sister, and I know Mama would disapprove of such measures. No, I will merely encourage them to be attentive."
Lady Elsbeth shook her head doubtfully. "You have a devious mind. I wonder why I never noted it before."
"Devious?" Jane laughed, her green eyes shining like emeralds. "If I am, my relations have proved apt teachers. Between Aunt Serena and Cousin Millicent with their machinations, and Bertram and Edward with their high pranks. I’ve had a liberal education."
Lady Elsbeth raised an eyebrow. She shook fresh herbs into her mortar and continued working her pestle in thoughtful silence.
Jane wandered over to a long, narrow shelf lined with varicolored glass bottles. Absently she began straightening the haphazard row, her fingers leaving tracks against the smooth patina of dust. Her mind turned fretfully to the memory of her meeting with the earl.
"Jane, hand me that other vial of oil, would you please, dear? The one on the end," Lady Elsbeth said, grinding the herbs in her stone bowl one last time before laying aside her pestle on the workbench.
She picked up the slender green glass bottle and carried it over to her aunt. "Elsbeth," she began pensively, "what is the story behind Lord Royce? I mean, is he really as villainous as I’ve heard? Some of the tales are ten years old if they’re a day, and not every telling has quite agreed on the facts."
"The Devil’s Disciple?" Lady Elsbeth Ainstree smiled wryly as she took the bottle from Jane. "Not knowing what you’ve heard, I cannot say; however, it has been my experience that tales grow with the telling. Still, it was a particularly nasty story even before time’s embroidery."
She uncorked the bottle and carefully poured a few drops onto the crushed herbs in the bowl. She recorked the bottle and resumed her work with the herbs. "I remember the incident that sparked the scandal, for it involved the younger sister of a friend of mine. I felt greatly for my friend during the episode. It made a terrible scandal."
"What exactly happened? I was only what? Ten at the time? I didn’t know anything of it then, of course; but, it was one of the first tales I heard after my come out."
Lady Elsbeth’s hands slowed, and the expression in her soft, hazel eyes grew pensive as she thought back on that time ten years ago. "I was twenty-three and spending most of my time with my brother, your Uncle Hereward, and his family. I was not part of the social whirl. I think it was measles that time, that your cousins had, I mean.
"Royce, who had inherited the title from his father three years before, was a Corinthian even at twenty-two. He lived and spent freely. He was wild to a fault. Up to every rig and row imaginable. He didn’t care a groat for what scandalized society. It was all so much grist for the mill. Of course, at that time the Royce family fortune must have seemed immense and inexhaustible. I have heard it said that his wild behavior was the