“It’s been my life since our father died, Lucy.” He glanced toward her and lifted a brow. “There was a time when you didn’t mind my working so hard. Your coming out was not inexpensive, and I spared nothing to see you had an excellent Season.”
She returned the favor and lifted her own brow. “You can’t guilt me into silence, brother. Yes, you’ve worked hard to regain all that Papa lost, but you’ve done so a hundred times over. How rich must you be? There’s only so much money one can spend in a lifetime, and what is it for if you’ve no one to share it with?”
“I will share with Lady Letitia. I intend to marry her, and there’s an end to it.”
His gaze returned to Lady Jane. She was more than simply lovely. There was a charisma about her, an undeniable draw. Even her competition couldn’t dislike her, though perhaps they didn’t see her as worthy competition. A frisky puppy would be more adept at the pianoforte than Lady Jane. When it came to painting, no doubt an infant could claim a more advanced artistic ability. The lady’s attempts were terrible enough to draw laughter from her friends. She took it in stride and laughed along with them, telling a story of her watercolors instructor, a woman so worn down by her hopeless student, she retired to the country to grow turnips and was never heard from again.
The art of polite conversation was also lost on Lady Jane. At times, she crinkled her forehead and became almost fierce in her discourse on matters not generally considered genteel, polite, or appropriate for the drawing room. Only last night, she debated the merits of crossbreeding sheep with young Lassiter and trumped him soundly. To his discredit, he didn’t appear offended in the slightest. On the contrary, he was besotted with her. They all were.
Except Michael.
She was to be disappointed, but would soon realize all was for the best. They wouldn’t suit. Not at all. Lady Jane required a younger man, one open to her lifestyle of riding neck-or-nothing, her mannish interest in farming, her tendency to shout unladylike curses in a hayfield.
He still couldn’t figure out how, when, or why she’d developed such an infatuation with him. He’d scarcely met her before the beginning of the house party. If memory served, he was introduced at his wedding to Annabel. She was there with Annabel when she died, and he spoke to her for a few moments after the burial service. How did a woman develop an infatuation in such a short matter of time? It was a puzzle. Not to mention, most young ladies just out of the schoolroom were afraid of him. He didn’t doubt Letitia was afraid of him. At the very least, she was intimidated.
Lady Jane was not afraid, or intimidated.
She gazed at him far too long and too many times, her wide blue eyes filled with yearning. It was damned near impossible not to respond, but he was careful not to give her any encouragement. In less than a week, Lady Jane would return to her father’s home and come spring, another Season, when she would find a man able to fully appreciate her passionate nature.
When she and her brother disappeared from sight, he turned to Lucy and realized she was staring at him. “Have I a smudge?”
“Yes, quite. It’s just there, in front of your eyes, clouding your vision.”
Unwilling to follow her lead, determined to kill any further conversation about Lady Jane, he nodded toward the north. “Shall we go?”
Lucy shook her head. “I’ve lost the ambition, Blix. You go on and I’ll ride along the lane there before I retire to the house and check on breakfast.”
He eyed her curiously. “Would you run, Luce?”
She cocked her head and said thoughtfully, “It has been rather a long time. I believe I will.” Nudging her mare, she turned and headed toward the slope of the hill that led down to the lane. She called over her shoulder, “Care to join me?”
For one mad moment, he thought he would. But he was to visit several of the Margrave Park tenants this morning and he didn’t think it advisable to procrastinate. He waved to her and turned the opposite direction. As he made his way down the edge of the back lawn toward the road, he heard the sound of hooves pounding the ground.
Before he could talk himself out of it, he bent forward and murmured a command, gratified by the feel of the magnificent stallion’s muscles bunching beneath him, springing forward with breathtaking speed. There was only one thing more pleasurable than running a horse, and as his prospects for that activity were exactly none, at least for the foreseeable future, he’d take a run and enjoy it.
Hell and damn. Five days left of this interminable house party. Five remaining days to avoid Lady Jane’s lovely blue eyes. Her yearning, lovely blue eyes. God save him from infatuated misses. Never mind that Lady Jane was the only miss ever infatuated with him. All the others saw only the title, and the money. Incredibly, Lady Jane appeared to have developed something of a tendre for him.