indolently in front of him. He looked from Jane to his best and only friend, Lindley.
Jane sat at the piano, playing beautifully, singing with the voice of an angel. It had been Lindley’s suggestion, damn him. He was staring at her, admiration in his eyes and on his face. It was obvious he found her very attractive. Damn him.
Nick had never been unhappy to see Lindley before.
He looked at Jane. She was a vision. He looked at Lindley. Lindley was a notorious rake. He had dozens of mistresses. He admired all women of passable charm. He was a born flirt. The earl had seen him admiring many women the way he was admiring Jane. She was too young for his attentions. He didn’t like it, not one goddamn bit.
But he lost interest in Lindley. Jane was mesmerizing him. He could not take his gaze from her. She was so graceful, more graceful than any seventeen-year-old—or any woman—had a right to be. He thought of her today, in the stream. He remembered the sight of her in her clinging clothes, remembered how she’d felt in his arms on his hunter. He remembered how she’d flirted with him in the dining room.
He wanted her.
Physically. Now. He was stiff and erect. He did not want Lindley to notice. He toyed with a small pillow. Lindley was too enraptured to even notice Nick’s strange behavior. Pillows, indeed.
When Jane had finished, Lindley applauded enthusiastically. Jane smiled briefly at him, then turned to look at the earl. Their gazes met, held. “Very nice,” he said thickly, ignoring the way Lindley was watching them. He lunged to his feet and left the room.
Nick poured himself a finger of whiskey in the library and listened to the hum of their voices. Jane’s soft and sweet, Lindley’s bold and flirtatious. Lindley then appeared, and Nick automatically poured him a brandy. Handing it to him, he said, “Don’t flirt with her. She’s only a child.”
“A child? Come on, old man, you don’t believe that, not for a minute. You can’t fool me.”
“She’s seventeen.”
“Seventeen and ripe for the plucking.”
The earl stared.
“I’m joking. What’s wrong with you?”
“You’d better be.”
“You can’t deny that she’s very beautiful.”
“No, I can’t,” the earl said. A silence followed.
Jane poked her head inside, cheeks pink enough to show she’d heard some, or all, of their conversation. “Excuse me, I’m off to bed.”
The earl nodded, his gaze on her. Lindley kissed her hand. “Good night, Jane. Will we ride tomorrow? At eleven?”
“I hope so,” she said, smiling. But she looked at Nick. “I think I need permission.”
Nick hated the thought of them riding together, but Lindley was his best friend and, despite what he’d said, he trusted him. “You have it.” He drained his glass.
“Thank you,” Jane said, and with another good night, she left.
“You are testy,” Lindley said. “Does this mean I’m intruding?”
“You are not intruding.”
“No? Good. You know, I thought Amelia would be here. I saw her in London Monday last, at the Crystal Palace. She led me to believe she was coming this way.”
“We’re finished,” the earl said.
Lindley was surprised. Then he laughed softly, looking at the door, where Jane had left. “Are you smitten, old man?”
“Of course not. She’s seventeen!”
“Seventeen and imminently marriagable.”
“Exactly,” the earl said. “And I intend to marry her off immediately. Do you have any suggestions?”
16
The earl pulled out his watch and looked at it for the sixth time.
He was sitting astride his big bay gelding in one of the south fields, where a gang of laborers was mowing hay. It was half-past eleven.
He rode up to the gang’s foreman and told him to give the men a fifteen-minute break. The day was unusually hot, with no clouds or drizzle. After voicing his approval for work well done, he turned his bay away. He decided to go to the north field to check the state of the stone wall begun earlier that
Jane sat at the piano, playing beautifully, singing with the voice of an angel. It had been Lindley’s suggestion, damn him. He was staring at her, admiration in his eyes and on his face. It was obvious he found her very attractive. Damn him.
Nick had never been unhappy to see Lindley before.
He looked at Jane. She was a vision. He looked at Lindley. Lindley was a notorious rake. He had dozens of mistresses. He admired all women of passable charm. He was a born flirt. The earl had seen him admiring many women the way he was admiring Jane. She was too young for his attentions. He didn’t like it, not one goddamn bit.
But he lost interest in Lindley. Jane was mesmerizing him. He could not take his gaze from her. She was so graceful, more graceful than any seventeen-year-old—or any woman—had a right to be. He thought of her today, in the stream. He remembered the sight of her in her clinging clothes, remembered how she’d felt in his arms on his hunter. He remembered how she’d flirted with him in the dining room.
He wanted her.
Physically. Now. He was stiff and erect. He did not want Lindley to notice. He toyed with a small pillow. Lindley was too enraptured to even notice Nick’s strange behavior. Pillows, indeed.
When Jane had finished, Lindley applauded enthusiastically. Jane smiled briefly at him, then turned to look at the earl. Their gazes met, held. “Very nice,” he said thickly, ignoring the way Lindley was watching them. He lunged to his feet and left the room.
Nick poured himself a finger of whiskey in the library and listened to the hum of their voices. Jane’s soft and sweet, Lindley’s bold and flirtatious. Lindley then appeared, and Nick automatically poured him a brandy. Handing it to him, he said, “Don’t flirt with her. She’s only a child.”
“A child? Come on, old man, you don’t believe that, not for a minute. You can’t fool me.”
“She’s seventeen.”
“Seventeen and ripe for the plucking.”
The earl stared.
“I’m joking. What’s wrong with you?”
“You’d better be.”
“You can’t deny that she’s very beautiful.”
“No, I can’t,” the earl said. A silence followed.
Jane poked her head inside, cheeks pink enough to show she’d heard some, or all, of their conversation. “Excuse me, I’m off to bed.”
The earl nodded, his gaze on her. Lindley kissed her hand. “Good night, Jane. Will we ride tomorrow? At eleven?”
“I hope so,” she said, smiling. But she looked at Nick. “I think I need permission.”
Nick hated the thought of them riding together, but Lindley was his best friend and, despite what he’d said, he trusted him. “You have it.” He drained his glass.
“Thank you,” Jane said, and with another good night, she left.
“You are testy,” Lindley said. “Does this mean I’m intruding?”
“You are not intruding.”
“No? Good. You know, I thought Amelia would be here. I saw her in London Monday last, at the Crystal Palace. She led me to believe she was coming this way.”
“We’re finished,” the earl said.
Lindley was surprised. Then he laughed softly, looking at the door, where Jane had left. “Are you smitten, old man?”
“Of course not. She’s seventeen!”
“Seventeen and imminently marriagable.”
“Exactly,” the earl said. “And I intend to marry her off immediately. Do you have any suggestions?”
16
The earl pulled out his watch and looked at it for the sixth time.
He was sitting astride his big bay gelding in one of the south fields, where a gang of laborers was mowing hay. It was half-past eleven.
He rode up to the gang’s foreman and told him to give the men a fifteen-minute break. The day was unusually hot, with no clouds or drizzle. After voicing his approval for work well done, he turned his bay away. He decided to go to the north field to check the state of the stone wall begun earlier that
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