The Heart's Companion - By Holly Newman Page 0,36

and they take a cropper over it later."

"Shall I have your promise for the same leniency you showed Bertram after his set to with young Culpepper?"

"That depends, my lord," she said carefully, her lips working to prevent a smile. She pursed them tight, waiting.

"When I arrived this evening I brought with me a horse. "

"A horse?"

"Yes. For Bertram. He’s really quite outgrown his pony, you know. From what he’d said to me, I’m confident his father will procure one for him when he returns home; in the meantime I’m taking the liberty of lending him one of mine. A most even-tempered beast, I assure you."

"That is quite a liberty, my lord," Jane returned uncertainly.

"I assure you, Miss Grantley, my intentions are for the best. The animal wants exercising."

"Ah, I knew there must be a reason other than a magnanimous nature," Jane teased. "After all, as you’ve told me, you lack the sensibility for that."

He slapped the flat of his hand against his chest. "Touché, Miss Grantley," he said with an easy grin.

Then Lord and Lady Willoughby entered, followed by Sir Helmsdon, and all too quickly she had to sober and properly excuse herself to see to her other guests. Instantly Millicent and Miss Culpepper converged on the earl.

Twenty minutes later Jane realized Reverend Chitterdean and the earl’s mysterious friend had still not arrived. As she expected dinner to be announced momentarily, she was in a quandary as to what to do. Should she order dinner set back again? Cook would be furious, and Mary would not thank her if she were the cause of Cook giving notice! Perhaps Lord Royce ...." She bit her lip lightly at the thought of approaching him, then shrugged her hesitations aside.

It appeared the battle between Millicent and Miss Culpepper for the earl’s attention had been won by Millicent. Though it could not have been much of a battle. While Miss Culpepper coveted an earl’s title, she was too shrewd a young woman to step beyond what is proper for an engaged young woman. She was not going to trade a future viscount for an earl unless she was certain of obtaining said earl. Gracefully she retired from the lists, in favor of a laughing flirtation with Mr. Burry.

"Excuse me, my lord," Jane said softly, interrupting his conversation with Millicent.

Her cousin’s eyebrows rose haughtily, but Jane ignored her.

"Dinner is about to be announced, but your friend and Reverend Chitterdean have yet to make an appearance."

"What?" The earl looked about the room, then laughed shortly. "I see you are correct. Would you have me fetch our errant guests?"

She nodded thankfully and conceded that she would indeed. He laughed again and strode off through the double parlor doors.

"Really Jane, how dare you?" demanded Millicent.

"I beg your pardon?"

"How dare you treat the Earl of Royce like a common servant! You should have sent your footman in search of these other guests of yours."

"Cousin, I do not even know the name of his guest. And he is his guest. "

"You don’t even know his name? How very odd of you, to be sure."

Jane laughed. "What do you think? That the Earl of Royce’s friend will be unworthy of our company or that we will be unworthy?"

"Certainly not! I swear Jane, you have the oddest temper."

"No doubt you are right. Ah, here they come now. Gracious, who would have thought. It’s—"

"Black Jack!" cried out Lady Elsbeth Ainstree. She struggled to rise from her chair. Then her knees buckled as she fainted.

In shocked silence the company watched Lady Elsbeth crumble to the floor. No one moved. Stunned, they looked from Lady Elsbeth to the recent arrival and back to Lady Elsbeth. No one moved until he moved. He ran to her side and carefully lifted her. She groaned softly, her eyelids fluttering.

Like hungry fish, the other guests clustered about him, the women offering advice or wringing hands, the men demanding he hand his precious burden to one of them. Scowling, he shouldered them aside and carried Lady Elsbeth to one of the now vacant settees. He laid her down, carefully smoothing the length of her gown, demurely covering her. He bent over her a moment longer, staring at her, his time-ravaged visage an immobile mask. He stood up and turned to glare at the Earl of Royce.

"Damn your eyes, Royce," he said softly, his pale blue eyes starkly shining in his tanned face.

Lady Elsbeth whimpered softly and stirred. The man she called Black Jack looked down at her, then abruptly stepped