of me, my lord. Of my nephews. You were paying more attention to two ‘scrubby schoolroom brats’ than to her."
The earl sighed heavily. "I knew it would somehow come around to being my fault," he said ruefully.
"You would have done better to hit your ankle with a cricket bat," Lord Conisbrough offered as he held up the injured member to allow Lady Elsbeth to bandage it.
"Oh, but this was so much more dramatic, I think!" Jane declared, her green eyes glinting. "I do have a complaint with you over this, Lord Royce. You have quite spoiled my plans for tomorrow’s entertainments. We were planning games and recreations for tomorrow. My brother-in-law is a great sport and game enthusiast, consequently Penwick is furnished with all manner of equipment. Court tennis, pall mall, battledore and shuttlecock, shovelboard, archery—"
"Enough, Miss Grantley!" Royce said, laughing. "I perceive my clumsiness was well-timed. Lady Elsbeth, how long will you have me trussed up in this manner?" he asked, waving his hand to indicate the thick bandage wrapped about his ankle.
Lady Elsbeth rinsed her hands of the salve. "Not for long, my lord. You will be surprised, come morning, to discover that the ankle will begin to bear weight, though it will be best to avoid walking and to keep it as immobile as possible. The salve will take down most of the swelling and should soothe the ankle. I must apply the salve twice a day as long as any swelling exists, then once a day for two to three days more. Now I suggest you rest. Come, Jane, we’ve left our guests to their own devices far too long."
Jane nodded and began to move away from the bed only to feel her hand captured by a strong, masculine one. She looked around in confusion.
Royce smiled. It was a smile that reached his eyes, lighting the darkest, shadow-haunted, corners. It was the roguish smile that gave truth to his sobriquet, the Devil’s Disciple. Jane felt a rush of liquid warmth surging through her body. It was followed by those strange, prickly tingles.
"Thank you," he said softly. He grinned, then released her hand.
She nodded and turned to follow her aunt out the door, an unreasoning disappointment settling in the vicinity of her heart.
"O-o-h-h!" keened a low-voiced wail.
Jane was seated before the mirror brushing her hair. She turned her head, her eyebrows raised in patient, amused inquiry, to look at Mrs. O'Rourke.
The woman had dragged the rocker into the warm morning sunlight that spilled into the room, savoring the sun’s warmth and the lulling motion of rocking. "I ken feel it in me pur joints," she moaned. "There is wickedness afoot, there is."
"The only wickedness lies in the port you consume," drawled Jane. "That’s gout you’re feeling," she continued unsympathetically, coiling her hair into a high coronet on top of her head.
"Nay lass, it’s mortal danger yur in. I have the cursed sight, and well ye know it."
"What I know is that you have been worse than useless to me this morning. No doubt our guests are already at breakfast. What a poor hostess that makes me! Besides, I’m famished!" She shoved the last of the pins into place, then turned her head from side to side to evaluate her own handiwork. She preferred the side curls Mrs. O'Rourke typically coaxed from her hair, but the simple style she’d achieved would serve. She rose from the dressing table.
"Be warned! The clouds of darkness are gathering!" intoned Mrs. O'Rourke, increasing her rocking speed.
Jane glanced out at the bright, sunlit, cloudless sky and shook her head. "Ask Lady Elsbeth for something to ease the pain. And please, stay away from the bottle," she said kindly before leaving the room.
"Trust in the Lord!" were the last words she heard. Jane shook her head ruefully, hoping Mrs. O'Rourke's foolishness was not a harbinger for the day.
Youthful screams and the trampling of running feet greeted Jane as she opened the heavy oak door leading out of her bedroom wing. Careening wildly around a corner came Edward, screaming and laughing. Behind him chased Bertram, threatening to collar him. He was followed by a harassed and frightened Becky.
Jane grabbed Edward’s shoulder as he approached her and spun him about. "What is this all about?" she demanded as Bertram skittered to a halt beside them.
Bertram swiped at Edward, who ducked. His blow caught Jane on the forearm. "Sorry, Aunt Jane," he said as he made another swipe at his brother.
Jane caught his arm. "I will not