But what else was she to do?
In the middle of mulling over the problem, a knock came at the door. She sighed and bid whomever it was to enter. Perhaps Mrs. Fairchild had heard of her being turned out and had come to say goodbye. If so, Jane decided that she might be able to bring herself to borrow a few shillings from her. But most likely it was a footman, ready to toss her out the door, she thought glumly. Which was no doubt what she deserved.
The door opened slowly and Peter's smiling face appeared behind it. He rushed to her arms, already talking excitedly.
"Did you see my ribbon?" he demanded, not waiting for an answer. "I was a little scared—just a little—but I knew I could do it! Uncle Edward says that it was a tip-top performance!"
"It was indeed."
"And I'm to have supper with him in the real dining room. With silver candlesticks and champagne!"
Jane laughed. "Oh, very grand."
"Yes," continued the boy, "And I asked if you could come too..."
"Peter!" she exclaimed. "You—"
"...and he said yes, of course, and that I should come and ask you to join us."
Jane was thrown into a state of confusion. "But Peter," she said gently. "It's not proper for a servant to dine with the master."
He looked at her in consternation. "But why not? Uncle Edward said it is quite alright."
"He didn't say exactly that, I'll wager," she muttered, but she didn't have the heart to spoil the boy's day. If the marquess could bear it, so could she. "Very well then, I shall be delighted to attend."
"He says to be there at seven."
"I shall come by your room ten minutes beforehand. You must look your best if you are to grace His Lordship's table."
When the boy had hurried off, she sank down on her bed, relieved that at least for tonight she didn't have to worry about where she would sleep. Surely he wouldn't expect her to leave in the dead of night?
As she considered the matter, she thought some more about Lord Saybrook himself. He must have a softer side, one she certainly hadn't seen yet, not to want to spoil Peter's enjoyment of the day. After all, it was going well beyond the bounds of duty to include her at his dining table, especially after what had taken place. Why, the very sight of her must put him off his appetite! And obviously Peter had not been told she was leaving.
She shook her head. It had been a very strange day.
At the stroke of seven Jane ushered Peter into the dining room. It was a vast space, with dark oak paneling and an impressive chandelier that winked sparkles of light from the myriad candles in among the crystal. The table was just as imposing, massive with carved legs and a breadth that seemed to dwarf the three place settings at the end nearest the marble fireplace.
Lord Saybrook was already in the room. A glass of champagne in his hand, he stood by the crackling blaze, staring into the flames as if lost in thought. She noticed with a start how very handsome he was, now that his face didn't have the cold, sardonic look that normally played on his features. Silhouetted by the firelight, his profile seemed softer, more vulnerable.
At the sound of their steps he looked up, and the moment was gone. His mouth hardened and his eyes became cooler.
Though she had donned her best navy merino gown, Jane felt flush of self-consciousness as she observed Saybrook regarding her. His superbly tailored black coat fit him to perfection, understated, yet elegant, and a waistcoat of burgundy silk showed beneath it. A white linen shirt rose to moderate points and the starched neck cloth fell in a perfect Waterfall knot. His riding breeches had been replaced by pantaloons which fit snugly over a pair of soft Moroccan boots—he had certainly "dressed" for dinner. Jane felt woefully dowdy, then realized it was most likely exactly how she was supposed to feel.
With exaggerated politeness, Saybrook bowed slightly to her and indicated the chair to his right.
"Peter, perhaps you will do the honors with Miss Langley's chair."
Jane had not dared meet his gaze as yet, not knowing quite what to expect, or how to react. When she finally did so, his eyes betrayed no emotion at all, as if nothing untoward had occurred between them. For some reason, that made her feel even more uncomfortable.
Saybrook lifted the bottle of champagne from the silver cooler and filled the goblet at her place, then splashed a touch in Peter's glass.
"A toast. To Peter's equestrian accomplishments. My congratulations, lad."
The boy colored with pleasure as the two adults lifted their glasses. He sniffed at the bubbly drink then cautiously tasted it.
"It tickles!" he cried. "And it tastes awful."
"It improves with age—one's own, that is," remarked Saybrook dryly. "Don't you agree?"
Jane managed a nod.
Two footmen brought in the first course, and if they were surprised at seeing the boy and his governess dining with the master their impassive faces gave no hint of it, though Jane was sure it would be the talk of the servant quarters.
Try as she might, Jane found it difficult to relax and take some enjoyment from the evening. Usually she would appreciate the irony inherent in the whole situation and would laugh at it, but tonight she felt only a certain glumness. Her reticence led to rather long lapses in the conversation, though she did notice that Saybrook made an effort to converse with Peter, something he obviously had little practice in doing. But the boy, still flushed with excitement, was happy to prattle on, regardless.
Suddenly, the marquess spoke directly to her. "Do you always wear spectacles?"
"Why, n-no," she faltered. "That is, they're rather new and I don't need them all the time."
"Perhaps they are not suited to you."
"Why is that?" She was curious as to why he would remark on it.
"Because you appear to be squinting most of the time. Maybe you would be more comfortable if you removed them."
Flustered, Jane plucked them off her nose and shoved them into her pocket.
"An improvement," murmured Saybrook, a slight twitch at the corners of his mouth.
"How would you know that?" she demanded.
"To your appearance," he shot back.
Jane lowered her eyes to her plate. So that was his plan in inviting her to dine—to humiliate her in payment for what she had done that afternoon before he turned her out. She bit off any retort, determined not to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had discomfited her.
When the final covers had been removed, Saybrook turned to Peter. "And what do you usually do until your bedtime?"
"Miss Langley has been teaching me to play chess."
His eyebrows shot up. "Chess? How interesting. Why don't you run along and set up the board in the drawing room while Miss Langley and I have a word together in the library."
Jane rose wordlessly. No doubt he had been savoring this moment throughout dinner. But she smiled to herself. There was really nothing else he could do to her—she was already dismissed.
She followed him into the library when a fire blazed, casting a rosy glow over the polished wood paneling. Saybrook walked deliberately to the side table and poured himself a brandy. He swirled it round in his glass, then went to stand by the fire. Jane, too, remained on her feet though he had gestured for her to take a seat. The marquess leaned an elbow on the mantel and crossed his legs nonchalantly. But instead of speaking right away, he kept his gaze riveted on the glass in his hand.
Jane lifted her chin just a little, thinking that he was probably enjoying himself. She was sure he was about to ring a blistering peal over her head, but on consideration, she had to admit that she deserved it. Her behavior had been outside the pale this afternoon. It was a wonder that Saybrook had allowed her to set foot back in his house, not to speak of actually sitting down to dine with her. It must have cost him a considerable effort, for which he was entitled to be repaid. She resolved to bear his tirade in silence, keep her tongue in check and leave with as much of her dignity intact as she could.
When he finally raised his eyes, Jane
was surprised to see not anger but a strange expression that she couldn't fathom. Disconcerted, she dropped her own eyes and waited for him to speak.
"You are packed?" he asked quietly.
She nodded.
There was a pause as if he expected her to say something. Perhaps he thought she would beg for another chance? She knew things were way too far gone for that and remained silent.
His fingers drummed on the polished wood. He took a sip of the spirits in his glass. Then abruptly, he spoke again.
"You should remain at Highwood—if you please," though the last words were added grudgingly, it was more of a statement than a request.
"You must be jesting," breathed Jane. It was the last thing she expected. "After what happened this afternoon..."
Saybrook ignored her. "The change in Peter has been nothing short of remarkable. I prefer that he stay in your care. I will make it worth your while—consider your salary doubled."
She stared at him in disbelief. "You cannot buy people, my lord!"
He smiled, a cold, bitter smile. "I just have. You are staying, aren't you?"
"For Peter's sake, yes," she replied. "But I shall not accept a single penny more than what Mrs. Fairchild hired me for."
"Suit yourself."
All vows of curbing her tongue went flying out the window. "And if I didn't think that the poor child needs someone to show him a little warmth and affection, don't think for a moment that I would remain here another instant."
"Another reminder of how sadly my character is lacking. How kind of you to inform me," remarked Saybrook, his voice heavy with sarcasm. "Pray, may I request that the next time you feel obliged to inform me of my countless defects in character you choose to do it in a private manner such as this." He had not raised his tone, but his voice was taut with barely controlled anger.
Jane could think of nothing to say. Part of her was furious at his high-handed manner, while part of her acknowledged his right to be angered and humiliated by her actions at the fair. And part of her was happy that she didn't have to leave Highwood.
"Am I excused, my lord?"
"Indeed you are not," he muttered. "But yes, you may go."
She hurried through the door, letting it shut with something suspiciously like a slam.
Saybrook swore under his breath and downed the glass in a single swallow.
* * *
"You had best keep an eye on your King's knight," cautioned Jane. Peter looked up at her quickly, an accusing look breaking his mask of concentration. "I was going to move it," he said. "To there." His small fingers grasped the ivory figure and placed it near her Queen.
Jane frowned in mock consternation. "I seem to be in the suds now. Peter, you have gotten quite good at this."
The boy grinned as she pondered how to allow him to checkmate her without being too obvious. Suddenly she was aware of a shadow falling over her.
"Uncle Edward! I have Miss Jane in check," announced Peter.
Saybrook surveyed the board. He was still dressed formally in black but his cravat had been loosened, giving him a more informal look, and his hands were thrust into his trouser pockets.
"Indeed you have. And your response, Miss Langley?"
Jane moved her piece. It was a clever piece of thinking which gave the boy a victory only if he was advanced enough to see it.
Saybrook's face remained impassive at her move, but he watched Peter intently. The boy studied the board carefully, taking his time. When he made to advance his bishop, he hesitated, almost making the wrong move, then quickly corrected himself and placed it on a different square.
"Check!"
"Mate," added the marquess softly. "Well done, lad." He smiled faintly at the boy, who beamed with pleasure.
Jane tipped her Queen over in defeat. "And now young man, I think it's well past your bedtime."
For a moment, it looked as if Peter might try to argue, but then his face brightened. "Oh, very well. I want to hear what happens to Galahad."
Saybrook cocked an eyebrow at Jane. "Galahad?"
"It is King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, my lord," she replied as she rose from her chair. "I trust you do not disapprove—it was in the schoolroom library."
"I am familiar with it," he remarked dryly. "Illiteracy is not one of my faults."
Jane flushed.
Turning back to the boy, he asked," Does Miss Langley read to you every night?"
"Oh yes. It is very exciting. There is jousting and swordplay and Sir Galahad was very brave, but he was hurt and... would you like to listen too?"
Saybrook looked surprised.
"Peter," said Jane softly. "I'm sure His Lordship has more important..."
"Yes, I would." To Jane's amazement, he reached out his hand to the boy and the two of them headed for the stairs together, leaving Jane to follow behind.
When Peter was settled into his bed, Jane placed the candle on the nightstand and moved her chair closer to the light. Opening the leather-bound volume to where they had left off, she began to read, furious with herself that her voice seemed a trifle unsteady.
Saybrook had moved to take a chair, but leaned shoulder against the wall, arms folded across his chest, near the foot of the bed. He had placed his own candle on the dresser so his features were unreadable in the flickering shadows but his very presence was unsettling. She was sure he was intent on rattling her—why else had he sought their company when he had never done so before.
She read on, never raising her eyes from the pages, fighting to keep her voice even so that he wouldn't have the satisfaction of knowing he made her nervous.
The chapter seemed to go on forever. But thankfully she noted that the boy's eyes were beginning to droop and closed the book.
"I think that's enough for today, Peter."
Peter voiced a sleepy protest, which was cut off in mid-sentence by a big yawn. She ruffled his hair. "It will wait to tomorrow."
"Very well," he sighed. "It's a ripping yarn, isn't it, Uncle Edward."
"Quite," came the reply from the shadows.
"Do you think I might ride with you sometime?" continued the boy. "Like tomorrow?"
"Peter," said Jane in a low voice. "You mustn't pester your uncle."
"I beg pardon..." apologized Peter, but Saybrook interrupted him.
"I must ride out with my steward in the morning but perhaps after lunch you would like to accompany me to see Fleming's sheep. I believe they are shearing tomorrow. That is, if Miss Langley agrees that it will not interfere with your lessons."
Jane could feel his eyes upon her.
"Oh, Miss Jane, may I?"
"If it pleases His Lordship, of course you may. But only if you promise to go to sleep now. You've had quite enough excitement for one day." She couldn't refrain from smiling when she saw that the boy's eyes had closed before she had finished her sentence.
Once in the hallway Jane meant to hurry off to her room. For her, too, more than enough had happened to occupy her thoughts. But she was stopped by Saybrook's voice, low and quite close behind her.
"Do you play, Miss Langley?"
She turned in confusion. "Sir?"
"Chess," he replied. "It was a thoughtful move you made with Peter. I wondered if perhaps you have any skill whatsoever in the game. Or was it merely luck? Would you care to try? I find I don't feel quite ready to retire." His eyes locked with hers and the corners of his mouth quirked up in a faintly mocking smile. "But of course you may be tired after such a... trying day."
Jane could see the challenge in his gaze and sensed that he expected her to decline. So, though she had no desire to spend any more time in the marquess's company, she answered coolly, "I am not at all fatigued. If you command, I shall try to oblige you with an adequate match."
"It was not an order Miss Langley," he said softly. "It was a request."
"As I said, I am willing."
Saybrook led the way, to the library this time instead of the drawing room. He banked t
he fire into a roaring blaze and pored himself another brandy. On the corner of his desk was a magnificent ivory set arranged on a board of black and white marble. He motioned Jane to take a seat across from him and spun the board to offer her white.
She shook her head. "We shall draw for sides."
A slight smile creased his face. "As you wish."
Taking a pawn in each hand, he shuffled them behind his back and held out both fists towards her. She pointed to the right one. It opened to reveal a white one.
They played for over an hour in silence, each so intent on the play unfolding before them that their eyes never once met. Jane had been deliberating her next move for some minutes She finally made up her mind and went move her rook when suddenly the marquess's hand shot out, his long, slender fingers covering her own. She was so taken aback that she nearly knocked the remaining pieces from the board. He didn't release her, however, but said under his breath, "I should think you might want to think a moment more."
Flustered, her eyes roamed the board but all she was aware of was the feeling of strength he radiated, even though his touch was light, and how warm his fingers felt on hers. A faint flush stole to her cheeks and she bent her head lower, praying he wouldn't notice. Finally, his hand slipped from hers. He waited patiently, saying no more.
She gathered her wits enough to correct her mistake and was relieved that Saybrook continued on without another word. The end took no more than ten minutes. He executed a series of sophisticated attacks that left her defenseless.
"Oh, well played, my lord," she exclaimed in admiration. When she realized what she had said, another blush rose to her face. It was shocking to have spoken to him in such a friendly, familiar manner.
But instead of the set-down she expected, a genuine smile appeared fleetingly on Saybrook's face, the first she had ever seen.
"Approval from Miss Langley," he laughed. "Now that is high praise indeed!"
Jane averted her eyes, His tone had been light, bantering, but she chose to misunderstand it.
"I beg your pardon, my lord," she said stiffly." I deserve your sarcasm for speaking to you in such a manner. I assure you I will endeavor to keep a rein on my tongue."
Andrea Pickens - [Lessons in Love 01] Page 7