Passion's Song (A Georgian Historical Romance) by Carolyn Jewel Page B

father’s explanation. Was it a pagan temple? The
residence of some provincial Caesar? She was deflated to learn the
ruins were nothing more than the landscaper’s conception of the
picturesque. The ruined building was hardly much older than
herself. She laughed outright when her father told her the copse of
trees in the rear gardens had been deliberately planted with dead
trees for the same reason. The earl agreed it was ridiculous, but,
he told her, at the time it was all the fashion and, feeling like a
fool, he had let the man haul in dead trees and one or two boulders
to complete the scene. “Luckily I stopped short of letting him have
a go at the hedges,” he remarked. “If I had, the place would be
uninhabitable!”
    Shortly after Christmas, a shooting party descended
on Marblestone Park at the invitation of the earl, but although
some of the gentlemen had brought their wives, until she was
officially “out,” the earl did not permit her to talk with any of
the guests. Consequently, she was forced to have most of her meals
in her room. Also, consequently, there was rampant speculation
about and admiration of Lord Chessingham’s terribly handsome
daughter. On the inevitable occasions when she came upon one of the
guests, she could do no more than nod her head politely and either
leave the room or continue on her way if they had happened to pass
in the halls. Until she was introduced, it would be exceedingly
improper to do any more, and at any rate, her experience with Mr.
Selwynn had made her a great deal more cautious.
    One of the earl’s guests was James Stanton
Fredericks, Viscount Strathemoore, who, at twenty-four, was a
charming and amiable young man, well liked among men of fashion for
his impeccable taste, his ready wit, and the ease with which he
lost at hazard. He was of above-average height, not yet portly,
with black hair and startling blue eyes that made him a favorite
among women. He was a Whig who, before his father’s death, had
stood as Member of Parliament for one of the boroughs. He had but
once shown his face at the Commons. He took snuff, donated generous
sums to the poor, patronized two painters and one writer, and
attended church on an irregular basis, and after dozing through the
sermon sincerely told himself he would go more often but never did.
His father had left him a large fortune, a country house in
Middlesex to which he repaired during Christmas, Easter, and
summertime, and a medium-sized estate in the county of Devon that
gave him about eighty thousand pounds a year. He was only able to
spend about half of the income from the Devon estate because the
men he left to oversee the place were robbing him of the other
half. The family seat was some one hundred miles or so southwest of
Bath, and he fully meant to visit the place again sometime soon.
Even at the rate the viscount was spending his fortune, it would be
some time before he would need to consider acquiring less prodigal
habits. Currently, he was considering marriage, it being high time
he got himself an heir. The trouble lay in deciding whom to marry.
There were any number of deucedly pretty women to whom he was quite
attracted, but there were slightly fewer who were rich enough. He
had come to Marblestone Park for the sport and because he had heard
the earl’s cook was incomparable. When he saw Lord Chessingham’s
daughter, he saw the woman he meant to marry.
    Young Lord Strathemoore rose early one day and set
out with the rest of the guests for a morning of shooting. Two dead
pheasants later he turned back, claiming an injury to his foot. It
so happened he had been able to discover that Miss St. James took
the morning air in the rear gardens, and his trek back to
Marblestone was a circuitous one by way of the back of the house.
He was elated to discover the object of his interest sitting not
twenty feet away from a copse of trees into which he promptly
stepped. He stood there for some minutes while he decided which of
a