seemed far too soft for the hard feelings he was trying to muster.
“Ask yourself this,” she murmured, gaze on his. “If I truly wished to marry into your family, why would I pursue the cub instead of the lion?”
Will recoiled. Her gaze danced with laughter; her smile could only be called smug. She knew she’d shocked him. Even with his years of experience as a diplomat, he had no idea how to respond.
The clatter of horses’ hooves outside announced her carriage. She straightened. “Thank you for a most diverting evening, my lord,” she said, and she turned and followed one of his footmen toward the door as the other servant threw it wide for her.
Will could only stare after her. He should speak to Jamie, confess his concerns, forbid the boy to see anything more of the beautiful Lady Everard. But as he moved to return to his other guests, he passed the gilt-framed mirror, and he wasn’t entirely surprised by the smile lining his face.
* * *
Samantha cast a quick look over her shoulder before the door of Kendrick Hall shut behind her. Lord Kendrick was smiling, and she felt an answering warmth inside. She could imagine laughing over a game of chess, pacing him across the countryside on horseback, dancing with her hands on his, the admiration of his gaze filling her to overflowing.
Oh, no! This would never do. She simply could not entertain such thoughts about the Earl of Kendrick.
William Wentworth would never be in charity with her. At times she was amazed Jamie was still willing to speak to her. After all, she was the reason the previous Lord Wentworth, William’s brother, had been killed.
Surely he knew. Surely that was why he was so concerned that Jamie seemed to care for her. Lord Kendrick didn’t understand it was merely an abiding friendship she and his son shared. She’d watched young James grow up with only his grandfather to guide him, while his father was busy defending British interests in far off places like Constantinople and Alexandria. How Jamie had pined for a moment with his father, much as she had pined for more time with hers. Come to think of it, she had every right to be annoyed with Lord Kendrick!
How could he have abandoned his son on his wife’s death? Jamie had been an infant! William Wentworth had only returned after his brother’s death, she was sure, because tradition required him to take up his place as the new heir. Did he care nothing for family? Was he only concerned she was pursuing Jamie because of her own past?
She shook her head as she settled herself against the velvet-covered seat and the carriage headed down the drive for the road to Dallsten Manor. Her thoughts moved faster than the lacquered wheels. Jamie’s father, this new Lord Kendrick, was not what she had expected. He looked nothing like his son; he acted nothing like his father, who had always treated her with the utmost kindness, even after her connection to his older son’s death.
And as for any resemblance to his dead brother, she had refused to think about the former Lord Wentworth for a very long time. She’d only lost her composure tonight when Jamie had cut short his sentences, an annoying habit that had, alas, been his late uncle’s.
She needed no reminders of the mistakes she’d made, of the tragedies she’d inherited along with the Everard legacy. Those mistakes were the main reason she’d refused her suitors over the years. Each had had something to commend him: a pleasant disposition, a commanding presence, a devotion to duty. Her latest unintended conquest, Prentice Haygood, had followed her about so loyally she’d resorted to hiding in the ladies’ retiring room at balls to avoid hurting his feelings!
Some of her suitors had been handsome, and some had been wealthy and some had been both. Far too many, however, had been fortune hunters, and she’d come to the point where she could smell the breed at twenty paces. Those she had no trouble refusing.
But one other sort of follower had plagued her last days in London. Her home had been broken into, her rooms pawed through. Nothing had been taken, but she could not shake the feeling that someone was watching her. She’d made inquiries, even set a trap in her home to catch the villain, going so far as to leave a window open and waiting with her strongest footman in the dark, but to no avail. Only her impending birthday had forced her north to the one place she’d ever felt truly at home: Dallsten Manor.
Unfortunately she had found an entirely different problem awaiting her in Lord Kendrick. She wasn’t surprised to be attracted to him. Both Jamie and his grandfather had delighted to tell her about his adventures. The stories had circled the valley when she was a girl—his insistent courtship of Peggy Demesne, who was only the miller’s daughter; their eloping to Gretna Green to marry despite his father’s wishes; her death a year later birthing Jamie; and his journeys throughout the world to forget his heartbreak. William Wentworth was the stuff of legend in the Evendale valley.
Or had been, until her family’s scandals eclipsed his.
She hugged her velvet cloak closer as the carriage trundled through the night. Emotions fired too easily in her family, for good and ill. Emotions, she was convinced, lay at the heart of her family’s past problems. She would not trust her feelings with her future. Though it cost her everything, she would not marry on a whim, not even to save her fortune.
Chapter Three
Will would have preferred to have put the lovely Lady Everard from his mind. Unfortunately, Jamie’s attitude at breakfast the next morning prevented that. The lad’s cheeks and mouth sagged, his shoulders slumped over his coddled eggs and salmon. His responses to Will’s attempts at conversation consisted of grunts and questionable movements of his head.
“Oxford,” Will announced, keeping his gaze on the freshly baked bread he was slathering with butter. “Fine school. I think it will do very well for you.”
“Oxford?” The silver-rimmed china clattered as Jamie set down his cup.
Will glanced up to see that he had his son’s attention at last. “Oxford. Divinity school. With all these martyred sighs I thought perhaps you were planning on being a man of the cloth.”
Jamie’s mouth turned up as he shook his head. “I don’t think I’m cut out for Holy Orders, thank you, Father. And you said I didn’t have to return to school if I didn’t wish it. You never attended Oxford.”
He hadn’t, and now that the title had come to him, he wondered if his earlier choices had been wise. But at eighteen, he could not have imagined the road he would travel. “So you still plan to stay here with me, learn more about managing our estate, our holdings.”
Jamie nodded, hands braced on the damask tablecloth. “I’d like to understand my duty better, yes. But I intend to take a little holiday before jumping in.”
Will raised his brows. “Planning to go on a Grand Tour of Europe, are you?”
Jamie grinned, pulling back his hands. “Nothing so elaborate. I’d just like to fish, ride, visit neighbors. That sort of thing.”
Will set down his butter knife. “Neighbors like the Everards.”
Jamie colored as if he’d been caught with his fingers in the sugar bowl. “Lady Everard is our neighbor, so yes, I planned to visit her as well as the Gileses, Mr. Ramsey our old vicar and others who knew me before I went away to Eton.”
“Very...neighborly of you,” Will managed.
Jamie raised his chin. “I
