Jane blushed guiltily and forced herself to banter with him until the dance ended and he led her back to the group of her admirers.
Her next partner was sent to fetch lemonade, giving her time to look around once more. She caught her breath as she saw Saybrook standing alone, arms crossed, surveying the room. He looked magnificent in his evening clothes. The other lords suddenly seemed like a flock of poppinjays with their striped waistcoats, bright colors and dangling fobs and seals. Saybrook was dressed entirely in black, save for the snowy cravat at his throat and a single gold signet ring on his finger. He seemed not to notice her at all, his eyes sweeping past as if she were merely one of the decorative blooms. With a tiny sigh of disappointment she turned back to her partner with an animated smile and feigned a lighthearted gayness.
After yet another dance Jane begged a moment to take a chair. She knew what was coming next. Already the musicians were running through the first few bars of the lilting melody in order to get ready. Resisting the urge to look around yet again, she made herself listen with a smile to the Vicar's wife prose on about her weak constitution.
"What sort of muttonheaded fool leaves a Diamond of the First Water sitting out a waltz?" growled Branwell as he bent close to her ear.
"I am quite exhausted. I prefer to sit," she answered quietly.
"Nonsense. I won't allow it."
"Your Grace, please. I do not wish to," she said, trying to evade his hand.
He had succeeded in taking hold of her however, and rather than make an unpleasant scene, she rose reluctantly.
"I believe Lady Stanhope is promised for this dance."
The deep voice sent a thrill down Jane's spine.
Branwell turned to face the tall stranger. "Since you, sir, have been so rag-mannered as to leave the lady waiting, I believe you have forfeited your right." He glared with a smug expression, confident that such a ringing set down would send the man slinking away.
"I think not." Saybrook's voice was still low, but with an icy coolness that made Branwell draw back in surprise. Saybrook's hand was already on Jane's elbow and he guided her to the dance floor before the startled young duke could say another word. They took their positions silently and the musicians began to play.
Like before, she followed him effortlessly, instinctively. As they floated along with a natural grace that drew admiring glances from the couples around them she was intensely aware of his hand on the small of her back, the heat emanating from the closeness of his body, his earthy, masculine scent. Unconsciously she squeezed his hand. In response he pulled her a fraction of an inch closer. At that, she summoned the courage to look up at him. His eyes were riveted on her face, his expression intent yet inscrutable.
"You... you remembered," she managed to say.
"As if I could forget," he murmured in a husky whisper.
Nothing was said for another few moments. Then he spoke again, still in a near whisper. "Let me say that your gown is infinitely more becoming than the one you were wearing last time we danced."
A smile came to her lips and she saw an immediate softening of his features. "Don't remind you of how hideous I must have looked. Thank goodness you are well rid of such a sight."
"You are very wrong. It is a great sadness to me that Miss Langley has disappeared."
"But she hasn't, sir. She is here."
"Is she?"
Before Jane could answer, he tightened his hold on her waist and swept her along at a quickened pace. Her heart was racing, whether from exertion or the sudden wave of emotion she couldn't tell. She couldn't tell much of anything. The rest of the dance was a blur, and when he released her to lead her back to her next partner she was amazed to find that her legs were steady enough to support her.
There was already a cluster of gentlemen waiting her return. They eyed Saybrook with a range of expressions that ranged from speculative to downright hostile. Suddenly Jane couldn't bear the idea of anyone else's touch. As Saybrook left her with a slight bow, she turned to Lord Morton, the next name on her list.
"Please excuse me, sir," she said as she fumbled with the fold of her gown. "I seem to have a small tear at my hem that simply must be mended."
Without waiting for reply she turned and made her way through the crowd. Reaching the corridor, she hurried past the ladies' withdrawing room, praying that no prying tabby would note her strange behavior. The drawing room was empty, lit only by moonlight. As she flung open the french doors and stepped outside a wave of cool air washed over her. It felt good on her flushed cheeks, and she stood still, breathing it in deeply.
To her chagrin, she felt tears trickling down her cheeks. She scolded herself for being ridiculous. Why, she seemed to have turned into a veritable watering pot these days. With a loud sniff, she reached to wipe them away.
"Allow me."
Saybrook came around to face her and dabbed gently at her face with a white silk handkerchief. Returning it to his pocket, he slipped off his coat and settled it around her shoulders.
She turned away in confusion. "I... I was too warm and just came out for a breath of air. I must be getting back."
He placed a hand on her arm. "A moment longer." He turned her round to face him. "Why are you crying?"
"Why did you come here?" she countered, her jaw thrusting out defiantly. "And I'm not crying. The cold air has merely brought a few tears to my eyes."
For the first time in ages, Saybrook gave a hearty chuckle. "You are right—my dear, defiant, prickly Miss Langley is still here."
"I'm not prickly," she retorted. "It's just that you bring out..." She stopped as he ran the back of his hand down her jawline.
"No," he whispered. "On that I am very wrong."
Suddenly she felt hot all over again.
"Why did you come here?" she repeated.
He was silent for a number of moments. "To see Miss Langley. To ask... her forgiveness..."
"Sir! The past is done with. There is nothing for which you need forgiveness. You are a good man, a kind, compassionate, honorable man. The past is over. It is time to move on with your life."
"Yes," he mused. "Yes, I have come to that decision as well. And so I came to do properly what I made a terrible mull of the first time I tried it."
Jane's mouth went dry. "What is that?"
His sea green eyes flickered in the pale moonlight. "I was afraid to say what I truly felt," he went on. "Afraid of—no matter. I have come to realize it is infinitely harder to bear hiding one's feelings than it is to risk hurt."
"And perhaps I was afraid to hear it, for all the same reasons." Jane met his gaze. "But...." She hesitated. "These past few days you have remained silent. Has something changed?"
"Yes, it has."
Jane felt a rush of sadness, regret. The tears welled up again and she dropped her head. "I see."
"The governess is now a lady of great rank and wealth."
"And that matters because I lied to you," she mumbled.
Saybrook lifted her chin. "For such an intelligent person, you have come up with a most nonsensical notion. It matters because I fear you may think me no better than a fortune hunter or..."
"Now it is you who have windmills in your head. As if I could think such a thing! You forget that I already know your faults."
Saybrook's hands moved to her shoulders. The coat slid to the ground. "Lord, what fools we both have been," he breathed as he pulled her close. "Jane, my dearest Jane. I love you beyond reason. Will you marry me?"
"Yes."
"Truly?"
"Most truly, darling. Surely any man less modest would have known I've been head over heels in love with you for an age." Her head was resting on his shoulder and she turned it to look up at him.
His lips came down on hers, tender but full of need. It took but a moment to ignite the smoldering passion in both of them. Saybrook's tongue demanded entry, and she opened wide for him, with a soft moan of desire. He thrust in deeply, drinking the taste of her while she, shy at fir
st, then more boldly, explored him as well.
He released her mouth only to trail his lips along the curve of her neck down to the edge of her gown.
"My darling," he groaned as his hands cupped her breasts. Then he slid a finger inside her bodice, pulling it down to expose the rounded flesh. Jane gave a gasp of pleasure as he took her nipple between his teeth, feeling it harden as he caressed it with his tongue.
"Edward," she moaned, her nails digging through the fine fabric of his shirt to the rippling muscles beneath.
"Say it again, my love," he urged. "Let me hear my name on your lips once more." He began to kiss her other breast.
Jane repeated his name over and over again as she slid her hands down to his buttocks and pulled him tight, so she could feel the hardened ridge of his manhood pressing against her. With another groan, he gently undid her arms and held her away.
"Love, we must wait till our wedding night—and in another moment that will be impossible," he whispered raggedly. The disappointment and desire in her eyes made him smile crookedly as he straightened the front of her gown. "Damnation that your father is a duke and we cannot be married tomorrow by special license. But promise me it will be a short engagement." He bent to kiss her once more. "I'm not sure I can survive much longer in this state."
"As short as can be allowed," she agreed. "You know how a governess must keep furthering her education—and I am quite curious to see what happens from here." As she spoke, she ran her hand along the front of his thigh.
"Hoyden," he said with a groan. "Behave yourself or I shall have to take you over my knee." And he claimed another kiss.
"And you, my lord, remember there is always a horsewhip to keep you in line."
Their muffled laughter floated through the air as Saybrook bent to pick up his coat. "I suppose we had better return," he sighed.
As they reentered the drawing room, a lone figure seated in one of the brocade armchairs was silhouetted by the moonlight. The duke had his legs stretched out comfortably in front of him, a glass of cognac held in one hand as he contemplated the thick cigar in the other.
"Ah, Saybrook," he drawled. "I believe you were looking for me?"
"As a matter of fact, Your Grace..."
"The answer is yes."
Both Jane and Saybrook looked startled.
"Any man with the fortitude to take my daughter over his knee has my wholehearted blessings. So, yes. Yes! Before you change your mind!"
"Father!" cried Jane indignantly.
The duke let out a chuckle. Jane opened her mouth to retort but found herself laughing as well as her father rose and gave her a hug.
"You have chosen much better than I," he murmured in her ear. "I believe you will be very happy." He extended his hand to Saybrook and added, "I believe that an announcement of our own is in order. You may wish to retie your cravat. The, er, wind seems to have caused some disarray."
"But Papa, Aunt Bella will have a fit of vapors if we take the attention from Cousin Annabelle!"
"Quite." A rather satisfied smile spread over the duke's face. "She vastly deserves it, too, for all of her meddling."
"I, for one, would like to embrace the dear lady," interrupted Saybrook.
Jane and her father looked at him as if he were mad. "But Edward, you can't imagine..." began Jane.
"Without her, I would not have met you," he grinned.
"You have a point," conceded the duke. "We shall wait until the end of the evening then, and let her bask in all the attention until then."
"Papa, before we return to the ballroom Edward and I must visit the nursery."
He nodded, smiling broadly. "Of course the lad must know. I shall wait for you here and savor my good fortune." He lit his cigar. "You know, I look forward to seeing Peter here at Avanlea often—along with his brothers and sisters," he added as the two of them left the room.
"Mmmm," said Saybrook, nuzzling close to her ear as they climbed the stairs. "Lots of brothers and sisters."
"Edward..." Her words were cut off by yet another kiss.
"Very soon."
The End
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SECOND CHANCES
Lessons in Love
Book Two
Excerpt from
Second Chances
Lessons in Love
Book Two
by
Andrea Pickens
Award-winning Author
SECOND CHANCES
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"Creating a marvelous heroine... Ms. Pickens combines a wonderful sense of the absurd with appealing emotional intensity to create a lilting romance for all to enjoy."
~RT magazine
Her mind was so occupied that Allegra failed to notice that Lord Wrexham had reined his mount to a halt and was watching as she scrambled over a tall stile. Smoothing her skirts down over her sturdy half boots she suddenly became aware of his presence. Though the unbecoming bonnet shaded most of her face, a hint of a frown peeked out from beneath the broad brim.
Drat the man. She really preferred to avoid him as much as possible.
"Oh—good afternoon, my lord." Her tone was as chilly as her expression.
He inclined his head a fraction. "It appears you are partial to taking the country air."
"Lessons are over for the day. I am following your wishes to make myself scarce."
"I did not mean it literally, Mrs. Proctor," he replied dryly. "Do not feel that you must... wear yourself to the bone."
Her lips repressed a smile. So the earl actually had a sense of humor. "I enjoy doing a bit of sketching," she said.
Wrexham raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't have expected you to indulge in such a frivolous pursuit."
"It does not meet with your approval? Perhaps you consider it a pastime fit only for young females."
The earl dismounted with an easy grace and fell in step beside her. There was a flash of amusement in his eyes at her last comment, though he chose to ignore her challenge.
"What you choose to do with your own time is your concern, Mrs. Proctor," he answered as he casually wrapped the reins of his dappled grey stallion around the long fingers of one hand. "My concern is with Max."
Her eyes shot up to meet his. "Is something wrong?"
"Not at all," he admitted. "Max has made great progress in his studies. He has responded well to your teaching."
She looked at him warily. "I trust you do not mean to imply..."
"No. I do not believe you are throwing your cap at my son."
"I should hope not," she muttered. "Why, I'm almost old enough to be his mother."
The earl appeared to be regarded her face and the errant wisps of honey colored hair that curled around her ears. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"Max is a highly intelligent young man," she continued. "It has been a pleasure to work with such a good student." She hesitated for a moment. "He is also unfailingly polite, cheerful and courteous."
"Unlike his father," murmured Wrexham.
She opened her mouth as if to speak.
"It does seem that his moods have improved considerably," he went on, without waiting for a reply from her. "At least he is no longer flying into the boughs every time I speak to him." He shook his head. "I know this is an awkward age for him, but I was beginning to think he couldn't abide my very presence."
"You needn't worry on that account, my lord. Max thinks you are—how did he put it—a great gun."
"He said that?" The earl's features softened perceptibly.
"Indeed he did."
"Thank you, Mrs. Proctor," he said after a moment. "You did not have to say so."
Allegra decided to change the subject. "I was wondering sir, have you made any progress in finding a new tutor for Max?" After a tiny pause, she added, "I know how much you disapprove of having a female performing that duty in your household."
Wrexham walked on for a few paces b
efore answering. "No. I have not." His eyes strayed to the scudding grey clouds moving in over the craggy hills. "It seems we are in for some rain shortly. I fear you had best come up with me if you are to avoid getting drenched."
"That is not at all necessary. I don't mind a spot of rain."
"Max would no doubt ring a peal over my head if you took a chill and were unable to preside over the schoolroom." Before she could argue any further, his hands came around her waist and lifted her effortlessly up across the saddle.
He mounted as well and steadied her until she was settled into a more comfortable position in front of him. Her skirts fell in folds over his left knee and she was disconcertingly aware of the warmth radiating from his muscled thigh. To her further dismay, his arm circled her waist as he took up the reins in one hand.
"Really, my lord! There is no need for you to trouble yourself..."
His face was quite close to hers. The spicy, slightly exotic scent of bay rum and leather filled her senses as he replied. "Ulysses can carry both of us with ease."
"Well, as long as he can find his way home," she murmured.
He threw back his head and laughed. "I shall have a care that the Sirens do not lure us off course."
In spite of herself, she smiled too. She had forgotten how refreshing it could be to have a lively conversation with a someone whose sharp wits and obvious erudition matched her own. Most people didn't understand her pithy observations, or simply missed her meaning altogether. She had a feeling the Earl of Wrexham was a man who missed very little.
She would definitely have to be on guard.
Second Chances
Lessons in Love
Book Two
by
Andrea Pickens
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