The Heart's Companion

The words spilled out of her mouth before Jane could stop them. She felt herself blushing anew. Exasperated, she marshaled all her emotions and drew on her cool society cloak. The earl was observing her far more closely than she liked. "We will, of course, understand if you choose not to join us for our little early tea, as it is a gathering in which we include the children. More in the way of a divertissement for them, you understand, before they adjourn to the nursery for their supper and evening ablutions."

The earl frowned. "And should that sway my decision?"

"That I cannot answer, my lord." Jane smiled faintly. It was her social smile, for she concluded that no gentleman of fashion, let alone a dissolute rake like Lord Royce, would deign to participate in what could only be considered a nursery meal. Her invitation would be refused, and that would be the end of it. There was no need for agitation.

"Then I accept, Miss Grantley," Lord Royce said smoothly, and the smile he returned was the devil’s own.

Jane blinked, dumbfounded, then rallied. "Very well," she returned briskly, thoroughly nettled as much by his smile as by his answer. "I see you have your horse tethered nearby. I leave you to ride to Penwick Park while I return through the woods. My aunt, Lady Elsbeth Ainstree, will entertain you until the boys and I are fit to join you for tea. "

"And here I was anticipating taking you up before me on Brutus. You have dashed all my hopes and expectations, Miss Grantley," the earl teased.

Jane refused to be drawn. "It would be neither seemly nor comfortable. Thank you for your offer, but I must refuse."

"Winter in summertime! I see I shall have to look to Lady Elsbeth and your nephews for comfortable conversation, for the Ice Witch has returned." He bowed formally to Jane, but amusement lingered in the depths of his dark eyes. "At Penwick Park then, Miss Grantley," he said in farewell before he turned to loose the reins of his horse. He mounted and touched his hat briefly in salute before wheeling the animal around to trot down the lane.

Jane stamped her foot in frustration. The Earl of Royce was the most disagreeable man ever to enter her orbit. That he found amusement at the expense of others was unpardonable. His good humor toward Bertram and Edward was surely an aberration of character, no doubt engendered by the recent receipt of some good news. Perhaps a horse he’d bet on had won a race, or perchance a debt owned him had been repaid, making him magnanimous and pleasant for a change. Why had she so rashly and foolishly invited him to tea?

A slight pout marred the porcelain perfection of her features. For some mysterious reason, the man’s mere presence shredded the social cloak she’d worn for so many years. Perhaps, she considered as she stared off down the empty road, she’d become too complacent in her adopted mien. She’d have to work to mend the rents and reinforce the seams, for she was not going to allow herself a relapse into the uncertain, hurt young woman she’d been three years ago.

But why was she staring after him like some country bumpkin? And if the earl could so destroy her cool facade, she hated to think of her aunt’s response to his sardonic demeanor. Royce’s appearance at Penwick Park would no doubt fluster Elsbeth and reduce her to a timid mouse. Oh, to foreswear her ready tongue! She must protect Lady Elsbeth from her folly, she resolutely decided. Whirling around, she ran back to the manor, entering through a discreet side door.


Childish giggles and laughter greeted Jane’s ears as she descended the stairs after changing her gown and righting the wild tangle of her hair. She crossed the Great Hall to the parlor door, her satin slippers making no sound. Judging by the amused expression of the footman eavesdropping by the door, she could tell that the occupants of the parlor were clearly enjoying themselves.

"Jeremy, the door please?" she said, standing before the footman who had temporarily assumed the duties of butler.

Jeremy straightened abruptly, stammering a disjointed excuse.

Jane ignored his words, her lips slightly pursed in an effort to refrain from laughing. Jeremy had much to learn about the proper etiquette of a butler. "The door," she reminded him gently, pointing to it.

The young man reddened and quickly pushed open the double carved-oak doors, bowing curtly to Jane as she swept by him into the large parlor with its unusual floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the park to the Folly in the distance. The late afternoon sunlight, streaming into the large room, placed its occupants in shadowy silhouette. The Earl of Royce sat in the middle of the long settee, flanked on either side by a child. That he was enjoying their company was obvious, even though the shadows made his facial expression indiscernible.

Jane paused, frowning in confusion, uncertain how to interpret the scene, for it so strongly worked against her expectations. As she stood facing the windows, her face was open to the afternoon sun, her expression visible to all. On seeing her, the earl rose from his seat and urged the boys to follow his example. They did so with alacrity.

Expressions of surprise, amazement, and curiosity chased across Jane’s unguarded countenance. The earl bowed, as did the boys, and Lady Elsbeth, seated on a japanned and gilded chair with her workbasket at hand, choked down a laugh.

"There you are, Jane," said her aunt in a tone light with contained mirth. "I feared you would not join us."

Recovering her calm mask, Jane acknowledged the earl’s presence and murmured some apologies to all as she slid gracefully into a chair next to her aunt.

Lady Elsbeth poured her a cup of tea. "I forbade the boys and our guest the blackberries until you could join us. I felt it only proper that you have the first taste, as they are your treat. "

"I believe Miss Grantley has already availed herself of a taste. Among other things," the earl drawled as he sat down again. "I distinctly remember a dark purple cast to her lips when I met her this morning. "

Now that she was seated among them, Jane could see the smirk on the earl’s face and realized he’d tasted the berries on her lips. A slight blush stained her cheeks.

"I will admit I lacked forbearance," murmured Jane wryly, catching the earl’s eye. The slight elevation of one of his dusky brows prompted her to add, "A vice I find universal. Now, Elsbeth," she said briskly, perturbed by the earl yet determined to ignore these alien sensations, "since you have waited, allow me to do the honor of serving."

She deftly divided the small harvest into five bowls, then picked up a silver creamer. "My lord?" she asked coolly, holding the creamer over one of the bowls.

"If you please. Miss Grantley."

"Judging from the laughter I heard as I descended the stairs, I gather my prolonged absence was not missed," Jane remarked as she handed the earl a bowl of berries.

"I beg to differ with you, Miss Grantley. You were certainly missed," the earl returned with a smooth, practiced gallantry that made the skin around Jane’s mouth tighten. "But I must confess, the laughter you heard was, lamentably, at my expense."

The wry expression he bestowed on her nephews sent the children into renewed gales of laughter, keeping Jane from making a peevish comment. In awkward defense, she tried to look at him archly, but only succeeded in appearing adorably confused. Worse was the realization that the horrible man seemed to know her thoughts and feelings and found humor in them!

"Lord Royce has been regaling the boys with some of his more youthful exploits. Though perhaps it would have been best if he had refrained from giving them ideas," Lady Elsbeth said pointedly, fixing her nephews in turn with a meaningful stare.

"More to the point, Lady Elsbeth," Royce interceded, "are the punishments that were meted out. Though I must admit, on more than one occasion, my punishments were self-inflicted."

"What do you mean, my lord?" asked Edward, screwing up his face in perplexity, his feet swinging against a leg of the settee.

"He’s just teasing, you nodcock," said Bertram disgustedly. "Lords don’t get punished."

The earl leaned back, the better to assay Bertram. "I beg to differ with you, young master," drawled the earl. "Not only are lords punishable, sometimes they bear punishment, beyond physical scars, their entire lives."

Jane and Lord Royce exchanged covert glances over the heads of the boys. "The most valuable possession a man has is his good name. Lose that and you’re punished day in and day out for all your life."

Jane squirmed under his steady regard, for in his stare she read the real truth of his words, a truth that somehow cut at her heart. Elsbeth pursed her lips, her eyelids drooping over her soft hazel eyes as she feigned renewed interest in her embroidery.

"How can you lose a name? I mean, it’s not like a marble," Edward said.

The earl laughed, ruffling the boy’s hair. "It means to lose the good opinion that people have of you."

"Oh, is that all?" Edward said disgustedly.

"Yes. I know that in youth one holds a name cheap; but believe me, young Edward Litton, when one is an adult, one’s priorities change," the earl said dryly. "But I do not wish to talk of these things. I wish to tell you how I imposed a punishment on myself for failure to listen to my father, tutor, gamesmen, and grooms. One day I, too, decided to climb one of those big fruit trees in the orchard. Like you, Edward, I climbed as high as I was able, and then beyond that. And, like you, too, I became stuck. Unfortunately, I did not have anyone to help me down. I was forced to free myself, and the result was my punishment. I fell."

"From way up there?" Edward squeaked.

"What happened?" Bertram demanded.

"I broke my arm. I was lucky I didn’t do more damage, though I confess I felt as if I had. For what seemed like a long while, I lay on the ground under that tree, waiting for someone to come help me. But no one knew where I was. Finally I was forced to get to my feet and return home, cradling my arm as best I could. A hue and cry was raised, and the doctor was sent for to set the bone. Unfortunately, he was away."

"That was luck," claimed Bertram, nodding his head knowingly.

Jane frowned at Bertram, but the earl merely laughed. "Bad luck, I’d say. My arm was broken and the bone had to be set. By the time it was decided to proceed without the doctor, my entire arm was swollen and painful to the slightest touch. The only person who had any experience with broken bones was Wilcox, the head groom. He plied me with liquor, which at my age I thought a great treat, and then had some of the other men from the estate hold me down while he pulled the arm straight to line up the bones. Then he splinted it tightly."

"Were your parents away, like ours?" Edward asked.

"My father was seldom at Royceland Hall. Mother went visiting so she wouldn’t have to hear my screams."

Jane pursed her lips at the wealth of emotions evoked in that last sentence. Bells clanged in her head, warning her that there were hidden, untold depths to the earl that might impinge upon the rumors that so freely circulated about him. She found herself leaning forward in her chair, hanging on to every word of his recital.

"Despite Wilcox’s rough methods," Lord Royce continued lightly, a rueful smile curving his thin lips, "he did a good job of setting the bone. Even impressed the doctor when he saw me later. Breaking a bone was not, however, an experience I wished to repeat, then or now."

Edward shuddered slightly as he sat staring at his own arms. "I don’t think I like tree climbing anymore," he said vehemently.

The earl laughed. "You would have been fine had you not climbed so high. The trick to enjoying life and surviving is becoming aware of your own limitations. Unfortunately, that is often easier to tell someone than to do, as I know full well."

"If you say so."

"I think it’s all a hum. He’s just telling us what he thinks Aunt Jane wants us to hear," declared Bertram, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest, trying to look worldly-wise at eight.

"I beg your pardon," Lord Royce said coolly. "I just met your aunt today. Why would I do that?"

Bertram looked at him in disgusted. "Because you’re sweet on her. All gentlemen are sweet on her. That’s what I heard her and Aunt Elsbeth saying when they came here."

"Bertram!" admonished Lady Elsbeth, coloring almost as pink as Jane.

Laughter danced in Lord Royce’s eyes, though he maintained an impassive expression. "I see your point, but I beg you will take a moment to reflect. I am older than she and nearly without a feather to fly with, certainly not eligible to join her long list of suitors. And truthfully, you know," he said, his voice dropping conspiratorially, "she looks at me like one of my old maiden aunts used to do, like I am some multi-legged, ugly creature that crawled out from under a rock. No humor at all."

"My lord, that is unjust!"

"See how she cuts up all stiff and cold? I’ll wager she doesn’t talk to you like that. "

The boys laughed, delighted to be treated as equals. Outrage kept Jane silent, though her light green eyes shimmered with anger.

Lady Elsbeth raised a lace-edged handkerchief to her lips to hide a smile. "Bertram, Edward, if you’re finished with your berries, I suggest you return to the schoolroom. Nurse Twinkleham is waiting," she said, taking pity on her niece.

The boys rose reluctantly and bowed to their aunts and the earl. At the door, Bertram turned back to the earl. "You’re a great gun, my lord. And don’t worry about Aunt Jane ’cause she’s a great gun, too," he confided in a grown-up, man-to-man fashion. Grinning cheekily, he gave a jaunty little hop-skip and followed his brother out of the room.

"You must not mind Bertram, Jane. Miss Bailee’s desertion affected him profoundly. I believe he is merely hedging his bets that you shall not also desert him," Lady Elsbeth said after the door closed behind the children.

"I judge the lad is suffering from a surfeit of feminine skirts," drawled Lord Royce.

Jane could not help but agree with the earl’s assessment. "I believe it to be particularly galling since Penwick Park is accoutered with all manner of sporting equipment. Unfortunately, Edward is too young to enjoy it with Bertram, and the only other neighborhood boy, being almost a full head taller than Bertram, has the attitude of a bully. Upon my brother-in-law’s return, I shall advise that he replace Miss Bailee with a tutor, a young man more inclined to encourage and channel Bertram’s energies."

Lord Royce agreed with her, stayed a few minutes longer exchanging pleasantries, then took his leave. Jane Grantley watched him depart for the third time that day, her black brows drawn thoughtfully together. This time her feelings were uncertain. If she had not been aware of his history, she would have sworn he came solely for the children. His manner after they quitted the room lacked the ease he had displayed in their presence. It was as though the earl liked children! Impossible. Everyone talked of how shabbily he had treated his own son by refusing to legitimize him, though the child was of gentle birth. There were even rumors that the boy died at three years of age due to abuse—or at least neglect. The man was an enigma.

Nonetheless, while she could be thankful for his kindness to her nephews, the memory of the way he’d carried her out of the briar patch and his subsequent claim of his prize brought a return of high color to her cheeks. The Earl of Royce was a mannerless lout trading upon his title for acceptance. Well, she did not believe a title excused rude, forward behavior!

Suddenly aware of a prolonged silence in the room, Jane glanced at her aunt, catching her thoughtful regard. Jane dropped her eyes and shifted uneasily in her chair, making a show of pouring more tea into her cup from the Meissen porcelain pot on the table next to her. Relaxing back in her chair, she turned to smile at Elsbeth, her composure finally intact. She calmly sipped her tea.

The brew was distastefully tepid.