include the children. More in the way of a divertissement for them, you understand, before they adjourn to the nursery for their supper and evening ablutions."
The earl frowned. "And should that sway my decision?"
"That I cannot answer, my lord." Jane smiled faintly. It was her social smile, for she concluded that no gentleman of fashion, let alone a dissolute rake like Lord Royce, would deign to participate in what could only be considered a nursery meal. Her invitation would be refused, and that would be the end of it. There was no need for agitation.
"Then I accept, Miss Grantley," Lord Royce said smoothly, and the smile he returned was the devil’s own.
Jane blinked, dumbfounded, then rallied. "Very well," she returned briskly, thoroughly nettled as much by his smile as by his answer. "I see you have your horse tethered nearby. I leave you to ride to Penwick Park while I return through the woods. My aunt, Lady Elsbeth Ainstree, will entertain you until the boys and I are fit to join you for tea. "
"And here I was anticipating taking you up before me on Brutus. You have dashed all my hopes and expectations, Miss Grantley," the earl teased.
Jane refused to be drawn. "It would be neither seemly nor comfortable. Thank you for your offer, but I must refuse."
"Winter in summertime! I see I shall have to look to Lady Elsbeth and your nephews for comfortable conversation, for the Ice Witch has returned." He bowed formally to Jane, but amusement lingered in the depths of his dark eyes. "At Penwick Park then, Miss Grantley," he said in farewell before he turned to loose the reins of his horse. He mounted and touched his hat briefly in salute before wheeling the animal around to trot down the lane.
Jane stamped her foot in frustration. The Earl of Royce was the most disagreeable man ever to enter her orbit. That he found amusement at the expense of others was unpardonable. His good humor toward Bertram and Edward was surely an aberration of character, no doubt engendered by the recent receipt of some good news. Perhaps a horse he’d bet on had won a race, or perchance a debt owned him had been repaid, making him magnanimous and pleasant for a change. Why had she so rashly and foolishly invited him to tea?
A slight pout marred the porcelain perfection of her features. For some mysterious reason, the man’s mere presence shredded the social cloak she’d worn for so many years. Perhaps, she considered as she stared off down the empty road, she’d become too complacent in her adopted mien. She’d have to work to mend the rents and reinforce the seams, for she was not going to allow herself a relapse into the uncertain, hurt young woman she’d been three years ago.
But why was she staring after him like some country bumpkin? And if the earl could so destroy her cool facade, she hated to think of her aunt’s response to his sardonic demeanor. Royce’s appearance at Penwick Park would no doubt fluster Elsbeth and reduce her to a timid mouse. Oh, to foreswear her ready tongue! She must protect Lady Elsbeth from her folly, she resolutely decided. Whirling around, she ran back to the manor, entering through a discreet side door.
Childish giggles and laughter greeted Jane’s ears as she descended the stairs after changing her gown and righting the wild tangle of her hair. She crossed the Great Hall to the parlor door, her satin slippers making no sound. Judging by the amused expression of the footman eavesdropping by the door, she could tell that the occupants of the parlor were clearly enjoying themselves.
"Jeremy, the door please?" she said, standing before the footman who had temporarily assumed the duties of butler.
Jeremy straightened abruptly, stammering a disjointed excuse.
Jane ignored his words, her lips slightly pursed in an effort to refrain from laughing. Jeremy had much to learn about the proper etiquette of a butler. "The door," she reminded him gently, pointing to it.
The young man reddened and quickly pushed open the double carved-oak doors, bowing curtly to Jane as she swept by him into the large parlor with its unusual floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the park to the Folly in the distance. The late afternoon sunlight, streaming into the large room, placed its occupants in shadowy silhouette. The Earl of Royce sat in the middle of the long settee, flanked on either side by a child. That he was enjoying their company