well.”
Janice looked at them expectantly.
Lord Rowntree cleared his throat. “I-I’ll be happy to visit Her Grace.”
“As will I,” said Lord Yarrow.
“Wonderful.” She couldn’t help smiling at the two men, who looked stonily back at
her. “All these visitors will do her good.”
“True, my lady,” said the duke. “Which means that when the roads clear, you may return
to your family with no worries about Granny.”
Janice didn’t know if she should laugh or cry at how blatant His Grace was being about
wanting to be rid of her, but she decided she’d find greater satisfaction in focusing
on her new plan instead: making him want her to stay.
“ No, Your Grace,” she said lightly but firmly. “But thank you for your thoughtful offer.
I intend to follow through on my promise to the dowager and stay the entire month.”
Janice gazed at him without blinking and smiled graciously, as she’d been taught by
Mama to do. For a few seconds, the only thing she heard was the snap of a log in the
fireplace and the ticking of the clock on the mantel.
“Lady Janice,” he said in serious tones, “you do yourself credit by volunteering to
stay. But I must insist you go. My grandmother never should have written you. It’s
all an unfortunate mistake, and you shouldn’t have to pay the price for our lapse
in not better overseeing her activities. Go back to London. Enjoy the Little Season.
Be frivolous. A girl your age shouldn’t be burdened with the needs of an ill old woman.”
Janice inhaled a light breath through her nose. “No, thank you, Your Grace. Nothing
shall change my mind. I’m a guest of the dowager.” Not your guest was her distinct implication. “I’ll remain the month, per her wishes.”
She felt the weight of every eye in the room on her, all of them disapproving, save
for Mrs. Friday, who still watched her as if she found her interesting and even likeable.
“Well, then.” The duke cocked his head at her and shot her another half smile that
didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You shall stay. Granny, I’m sure, will be delighted.”
His implication? That he wouldn’t be.
Touché.
She would give him that paltry success.
Little did he know that soon he’d be begging her to stay himself.
Their gazes locked, and although there was no shift of power, she saw a glimmer of
interest— real interest—in his eyes. However cool it was, it was better than his previous indifference.
The women exchanged uneasy glances while Lord Yarrow stroked his chin and watched
her. Lord Rowntree’s mouth curled in what could only be termed a light sneer.
Move on while you’re ahead, Janice told herself. This was a game. A giant game. And she intended to win.
“From what I saw of them this afternoon,” she told the duke, “your stables appear
quite filled with prime goers.”
It wasn’t much, but it was something.
“They are, indeed.” He had a lazy yet demanding way of speaking that made one feel
in the presence of a powerful man, which he was, of course. “Speaking of the stables,
is your coachman well?”
“He had a fainting spell.” Ironically, it had happened after Janice told the fib that Oscar was ill. “But he’s doing better, thank you.” She wanted
to go again to the stables to see him and the puppies— and Mr. Callahan, a wicked portion of her brain taunted her. “I think I’ll check on him later tonight
to ensure that he’s back to his old self.”
“Very good.” The duke crossed his legs nonchalantly and took a sip of something golden
in his glass. “And tomorrow you’ll take a tour of the stables and choose a horse to
ride when the weather improves.”
There he went, ordering her about again.
“Just ask the head groom to show you around,” the duke added. Because he certainly wasn’t interested in escorting her there, she knew. “I assume you’re a
good rider.”
Again, it wasn’t a question.
Janice gave a
Janice looked at them expectantly.
Lord Rowntree cleared his throat. “I-I’ll be happy to visit Her Grace.”
“As will I,” said Lord Yarrow.
“Wonderful.” She couldn’t help smiling at the two men, who looked stonily back at
her. “All these visitors will do her good.”
“True, my lady,” said the duke. “Which means that when the roads clear, you may return
to your family with no worries about Granny.”
Janice didn’t know if she should laugh or cry at how blatant His Grace was being about
wanting to be rid of her, but she decided she’d find greater satisfaction in focusing
on her new plan instead: making him want her to stay.
“ No, Your Grace,” she said lightly but firmly. “But thank you for your thoughtful offer.
I intend to follow through on my promise to the dowager and stay the entire month.”
Janice gazed at him without blinking and smiled graciously, as she’d been taught by
Mama to do. For a few seconds, the only thing she heard was the snap of a log in the
fireplace and the ticking of the clock on the mantel.
“Lady Janice,” he said in serious tones, “you do yourself credit by volunteering to
stay. But I must insist you go. My grandmother never should have written you. It’s
all an unfortunate mistake, and you shouldn’t have to pay the price for our lapse
in not better overseeing her activities. Go back to London. Enjoy the Little Season.
Be frivolous. A girl your age shouldn’t be burdened with the needs of an ill old woman.”
Janice inhaled a light breath through her nose. “No, thank you, Your Grace. Nothing
shall change my mind. I’m a guest of the dowager.” Not your guest was her distinct implication. “I’ll remain the month, per her wishes.”
She felt the weight of every eye in the room on her, all of them disapproving, save
for Mrs. Friday, who still watched her as if she found her interesting and even likeable.
“Well, then.” The duke cocked his head at her and shot her another half smile that
didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You shall stay. Granny, I’m sure, will be delighted.”
His implication? That he wouldn’t be.
Touché.
She would give him that paltry success.
Little did he know that soon he’d be begging her to stay himself.
Their gazes locked, and although there was no shift of power, she saw a glimmer of
interest— real interest—in his eyes. However cool it was, it was better than his previous indifference.
The women exchanged uneasy glances while Lord Yarrow stroked his chin and watched
her. Lord Rowntree’s mouth curled in what could only be termed a light sneer.
Move on while you’re ahead, Janice told herself. This was a game. A giant game. And she intended to win.
“From what I saw of them this afternoon,” she told the duke, “your stables appear
quite filled with prime goers.”
It wasn’t much, but it was something.
“They are, indeed.” He had a lazy yet demanding way of speaking that made one feel
in the presence of a powerful man, which he was, of course. “Speaking of the stables,
is your coachman well?”
“He had a fainting spell.” Ironically, it had happened after Janice told the fib that Oscar was ill. “But he’s doing better, thank you.” She wanted
to go again to the stables to see him and the puppies— and Mr. Callahan, a wicked portion of her brain taunted her. “I think I’ll check on him later tonight
to ensure that he’s back to his old self.”
“Very good.” The duke crossed his legs nonchalantly and took a sip of something golden
in his glass. “And tomorrow you’ll take a tour of the stables and choose a horse to
ride when the weather improves.”
There he went, ordering her about again.
“Just ask the head groom to show you around,” the duke added. Because he certainly wasn’t interested in escorting her there, she knew. “I assume you’re a
good rider.”
Again, it wasn’t a question.
Janice gave a
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