hurt much?" Jane asked, uncertain whether to stay or go.
He looked up at her and smiled. It eased the sharp creases in his brow and between his eyes, making him appear younger. "No. Your aunt’s salve has done miracles. But it is still tender and I’m cognizant of the fact it will heal faster if I pamper it. There was a time, I suppose," he went on reflectively, "when I would have refused to grant it rest and suffered in silence. Stoic heroism."
"Sounds more like fool’s business to me."
"Precisely, but oh, for the false pride of youth!"
Jane sat down on the edge of a chair set at right angles to the settee. "What do you mean by that, my lord?"
He looked at her levelly. "I believe, Miss Grantley, you are no more an Ice Witch than I am the Devil’s Disciple."
"You aren’t?"
A tiny smile curled at the corners of his mouth. "No."
"I know," she sighed with a rueful smile of her own.
An arrested expression shone in his eyes. "How do you know that?" he asked, carefully watching her.
She slid back in the chair and cocked her head to the side. "When I first met you, you played the unrepentant rake. And may I say, you play it very well. Nonetheless, it is not intrinsic to your nature. "
The earl slid his hands behind his head, thoroughly enjoying himself. "It’s not? How can you be so certain, Miss Grantley? You have heard my story."
"No, that’s exactly what I haven’t heard. I’ve heard society’s story. I’m convinced there is a significant difference."
"You have me intrigued. How so?"
"Really, my lord, this is not a subject we should be discussing."
"Why not? If society finds it a fit subject, why should you not?"
"It is not something a woman discusses alone with a man, particularly the man in question. It’s embarrassing."
Jane refused to meet his gaze as she worried her lower lip between her teeth. When she looked up, she straightened. She turned her eyes from his. "It is said you convinced a young woman of good birth to run off with you by false promises of marriage. Afterwards, when she was ruined, you kept her as your mistress. When she presented you with a son, you threw her out, but kept the child, though you never claimed him. It is said the child died when he was three due to abuse or neglect. There. That is the sum and total of it," she said quickly. She looked back at him tentatively to gage his response. He nodded.
"A fairly concise accounting of society’s tale. But you, Miss Grantley, don’t believe it? What part don’t you believe?" A cynical sneer twisted his lips.
She pressed her own lips tightly together, wishing to be anywhere but in this room with this enigmatic man. "I don’t know what the circumstances were with the young woman, so I will not venture a hypothesis."
"Coward," he murmured.
She flashed him an annoyed glance and breathed deeply. "I don’t believe you mistreated or neglected that young child. Whether he was your own or not. I believe, my lord, that you like children, despite the facade you present to the world. It is not fashionable to notice the existence of children. You ignore that dictum, but not from any perverse desire to thumb your nose at society. You couldn’t care if society notices or not. You do it for yourself, and you derive enjoyment from children for yourself. You would be incapable of hurting a child in the way gossip would have you. Furthermore, your gambling rampage did not start until after the child died, almost three years after the mother left him in your care."
"Peter."
"I beg your pardon, my lord?"
"The child’s name was Peter. And you are correct. I would never have harmed that child, even though he was not my son."
"What?" Jane’s head flew up, her gaze locking with the earl’s.
He waved his hand airily. "That is just one of several small details society mistranslated. First, I wanted to marry Vivian Montrechet, and I thought she wanted to marry me; however, when we arrived in Europe she let me know quite firmly that she would prefer to remain my mistress. At that time I accepted her decision without question. Naive, on my part. For Vivian, I was merely a stepping stone. She hungered for gaiety and glamour. When she found herself pregnant, she came and told me. I knew immediately it was not my child and she knew I knew. It was evidently the