The Diabolical Baron by Mary Jo Putney Page A

power and a formidable elegance. Midway down, her step faltered and she stopped, holding the rail to support herself as the blood drained from her face.
    God in heaven, she thought wildly. How can Caro line’s Diabolical Baron possibly be Jason Kincaid? As she stood stock-still, her eyes adjusted enough to see the dark frowning brows.
    Gone was the reckless, open boy, replaced by a man used to power and impatient of obstacles. It was still the handsomest face she had ever seen, but its hard lines made him seem older than his years, accounting for Caro’s misjudgment of his age. The well-cut mouth was set in a tight line, and black eyes bored into hers, icy with anger. Clearly he recog nized her, and had forgiven nothing.
    As Caroline and Linda came into the hall, Jessica was pleased to hear her own voice saying coolly, “Such a surprise, Caroline. I had no idea your Lord Radford was an old acquaintance of mine from before my first Season. When I knew him he was plain Jason Kin caid.”
    Continuing to the bottom of the stairs, she extended her hand to him. and went on, “Indeed, your lordship, I must congratulate you on your high estate. Were you a cousin who came unexpectedly to the title?”
    He bowed punctiliously over her hand and stepped back, answering, “My father was Lord Radford, but I was merely a younger son until my brother met his end.  I came into the title five years ago.” He paused, then added coldly, “Of course it is not to be ex pected you would know how I was placed, since our acquaintance was of the slightest.”
    Jessica flinched at his casual dismissal of what had been the most intense experience of her life. Her emo tions tilted wildly from believing he remembered her to being convinced he had forgotten—no doubt he hardly recalled her amongst all the famous society beauties he had known through the years. Consistency was not prominent in her thinking at the moment.
    Since she was about to become his aunt by marriage, the dead past must stay that way—dead and buried beyond redemption.
    Caroline looked uncertainly back and forth between the two tall striking figures. She heard the polite words, but deep in her viscera she could feel murky undercurrents swirling. Jason looked like Zeus about to hurl a thunderbolt, and even her aunt’s unshakable composure seemed forced.
    Given his apparent prefer ence for docile ladies, he must have hated Jessica’s headstrong independence when he knew her in the past. Since she was now less wild but even more independent, he wasn’t likely to appreciate her any better.
    Given a choice, Caroline would have preferred to slip out of the room and disappear; anywhere would be preferable to seeing her betrothed looking like he wanted to murder her dearest friend and relative. But she was responsible for this meeting, so she bravely moved into the breech. “How interesting. You did not know my mother was a Westerly, Jason?”
    His face was stiff but he answered civilly enough. “I must apologize for inadequate research into your an tecedents. Having met you, I felt no need to know more. Shall we leave, my dear?” He offered Caroline his arm. She blinked a bit at the endearment and the speech; it was the most lover-like thing he had ever said to her.
    As she took the proffered arm, she smiled brightly and said, “Of course. We have quite a journey to make and I am anxious to be off. Jess, are you and Linda ready?”
    Jessica answered, “Since the luggage is going on the second carriage, there is no reason to delay. I’m sure Lord Radford’s driver can be trusted to take care of the loading. Linda, do you have your shawl? It will be cooler outside of London.”
    Linda nodded. Oblivious of atmosphere, she was in tent on her own affairs. Considering the states of mind of the three adults, it was hardly surprising no one no ticed the straw basket under her cashmere shawl.
    As they climbed into the carriage, Jason was cursing himself for having chosen to ride