frock with a parasol crooked over her shoulder. A trim young
maid stood behind her, but Ethan wasn't fooled by the uniform and
cap. The girl was one of
them
.
Still, Rose was a far cry from the woman he'd been very nearly
kidnapped by, desperate, dirty, and clad in boy's trousers. Yet the
irreverence for all things Society still twinkled in her hazel eyes.
Ethan
was very glad to see her. "What are you doing here?" he
asked. "Not that I'm complaining, mind you. Are you on a
mission?" He pointed warily at the parasol. "Is that thing
loaded?"
She
laughed. "It isn't a weapon, Ethan, it's a sunshade." Then
she poised it before her, considering. "However, now that you
mention it, I do see potential."
Ethan
took her hand briefly in greeting, but refrained from holding it. It
had never been serious, his infatuation for Rose, but damn if she
wasn't as magnificent as ever.
The
fact that she was mad for Collis Tremayne and always had been had set
a limit on his feelings, for even Ethan didn't make a pass behind a
friend's back—although if Rose had shown him the slightest
encouragement he might have broken that unwritten rule.
No,
it was more that she almost allowed him to believe that there was
someone out there as perfect for him as she was for Collis.
She
was looking at him now with utmost concentration. He could almost see
the wheels turning in her head. "I hear you turned down Lord
Etheridge's offer," she said bluntly.
Ethan
smiled. Rose never wasted time. "I did indeed."
"Then
why did you go back to Maywell's last night?"
He
started. How had she known—oh, right. Feebles. He snorted. "To
prove to you lot that you couldn't force me to—Wait, that
doesn't sound right." He frowned to himself. "Damn, it made
sense when Jeeves said it."
Rose
tilted her head. "Who is Jeeves?"
"My
new butler."
She
looked at him oddly for a moment. "Jeeves," she said to
herself. Then, "Take a turn about the path with me?"
Ethan
offered his arm in response. They walked in silence for a while.
Ethan knew she was trying to think of some way to convince him. It
wouldn't work of course, but her company was enjoyable and it was a
very fine day. He could think of worse ways to waste the morning.
The
morning was half gone and Jane still had not finished her daily
letter to Mother.
So
far, she'd included seeing the mysterious glimmer of candlelight and
even a cheerful bit about her adventure into the locked room.
After
that—
She
hesitated. She could hardly tell Mother about the kiss! And really,
what was there to tell about Mr. Damont? All he had actually done was
play cards with her uncle.
Bending
back over the page, she dutifully listed all the gentlemen who had
joined her uncle in the card room last night, slipping Mr. Damont's
name casually into the middle of the list so as not to call extra
attention to him.
After
all, who knew what Mother would make of Mr. Damont's attentions?
Besides, if she explained about Mr. Damont, she would also be forced
to go into detail about the incident in the tree—something
she'd really rather not do!
Oh,
yes! Jane remembered something else she could put in the letter.
"Uncle
Harold's man of business arrived late last night with some
information for him. Uncle Harold received him in the library. He was
a smallish fellow, with a round face, dressed in a brown wool suit."
Mother liked to know that sort of thing. "Simms served coffee,
but Uncle Harold and the man of business did not stay in there long."
There.
Everything she'd said was the truth. It simply wasn't all of it.
The
fact remained, however, that Jane felt guilty as she sealed the
letter. She owed Mother so very much. The only thing that had ever
been asked of Jane in return was that she tell Mother every little
detail of her time in London.
Mr.
Damont was the problem.
Jane
ruthlessly examined her feelings about the tall, sardonic gambler. He
was very handsome and charming, in an exasperating sort of way.
He
was outrageous, shockingly
maid stood behind her, but Ethan wasn't fooled by the uniform and
cap. The girl was one of
them
.
Still, Rose was a far cry from the woman he'd been very nearly
kidnapped by, desperate, dirty, and clad in boy's trousers. Yet the
irreverence for all things Society still twinkled in her hazel eyes.
Ethan
was very glad to see her. "What are you doing here?" he
asked. "Not that I'm complaining, mind you. Are you on a
mission?" He pointed warily at the parasol. "Is that thing
loaded?"
She
laughed. "It isn't a weapon, Ethan, it's a sunshade." Then
she poised it before her, considering. "However, now that you
mention it, I do see potential."
Ethan
took her hand briefly in greeting, but refrained from holding it. It
had never been serious, his infatuation for Rose, but damn if she
wasn't as magnificent as ever.
The
fact that she was mad for Collis Tremayne and always had been had set
a limit on his feelings, for even Ethan didn't make a pass behind a
friend's back—although if Rose had shown him the slightest
encouragement he might have broken that unwritten rule.
No,
it was more that she almost allowed him to believe that there was
someone out there as perfect for him as she was for Collis.
She
was looking at him now with utmost concentration. He could almost see
the wheels turning in her head. "I hear you turned down Lord
Etheridge's offer," she said bluntly.
Ethan
smiled. Rose never wasted time. "I did indeed."
"Then
why did you go back to Maywell's last night?"
He
started. How had she known—oh, right. Feebles. He snorted. "To
prove to you lot that you couldn't force me to—Wait, that
doesn't sound right." He frowned to himself. "Damn, it made
sense when Jeeves said it."
Rose
tilted her head. "Who is Jeeves?"
"My
new butler."
She
looked at him oddly for a moment. "Jeeves," she said to
herself. Then, "Take a turn about the path with me?"
Ethan
offered his arm in response. They walked in silence for a while.
Ethan knew she was trying to think of some way to convince him. It
wouldn't work of course, but her company was enjoyable and it was a
very fine day. He could think of worse ways to waste the morning.
The
morning was half gone and Jane still had not finished her daily
letter to Mother.
So
far, she'd included seeing the mysterious glimmer of candlelight and
even a cheerful bit about her adventure into the locked room.
After
that—
She
hesitated. She could hardly tell Mother about the kiss! And really,
what was there to tell about Mr. Damont? All he had actually done was
play cards with her uncle.
Bending
back over the page, she dutifully listed all the gentlemen who had
joined her uncle in the card room last night, slipping Mr. Damont's
name casually into the middle of the list so as not to call extra
attention to him.
After
all, who knew what Mother would make of Mr. Damont's attentions?
Besides, if she explained about Mr. Damont, she would also be forced
to go into detail about the incident in the tree—something
she'd really rather not do!
Oh,
yes! Jane remembered something else she could put in the letter.
"Uncle
Harold's man of business arrived late last night with some
information for him. Uncle Harold received him in the library. He was
a smallish fellow, with a round face, dressed in a brown wool suit."
Mother liked to know that sort of thing. "Simms served coffee,
but Uncle Harold and the man of business did not stay in there long."
There.
Everything she'd said was the truth. It simply wasn't all of it.
The
fact remained, however, that Jane felt guilty as she sealed the
letter. She owed Mother so very much. The only thing that had ever
been asked of Jane in return was that she tell Mother every little
detail of her time in London.
Mr.
Damont was the problem.
Jane
ruthlessly examined her feelings about the tall, sardonic gambler. He
was very handsome and charming, in an exasperating sort of way.
He
was outrageous, shockingly
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