not an emotion he was accustomed to. The trouble was, he liked Miss Janey Hilton, liked the way she looked at him, liked her cool directness and the way she smiled. He swore silently. What the devil was wrong with him? He was thinking like some greenhorn. She was just another woman, another conquest to be made…wasn’t she?
He turned away without answering his own question, whistled to Tess and strode back into the woods.
“Jane! There you are!” Mrs Filmore, her ample figure tightly upholstered in cherry silk, greeted Janey majestically from halfway up the broad flight of stairs. “I have been looking all over for you. Mr Filmore has relented. You may come down and join us—when you are suitably dressed, of course.” She frowned as she glanced derisively at Janey’s besmirched pelisse.
“I’d rather go to my room, thank you.” Janey gave Mrs Filmore her most benign smile. “I’ve been walking in the gardens and I am rather tired.”
“Walking alone in the dark!” Mrs Filmore gave a long-suffering sigh. “Really, Jane dear, you cannot go on like this. A little eccentricity in the first throes of grief is allowable, but poor Mr Grey has been dead almost a year now—though the ordeal you suffered would be enough to turn anyone’s mind.”
“There is nothing wrong with my mind.” Janey sighed as she began to climb the stairs. “And I should prefer it if you and Mr Filmore would stop implying that there is to anyone who cares to listen.”
“Well,” Mrs Filmore snorted, drawing herself up to her full, rather limited, height, “would you rather that I had explained to Mr Lindsay that your extraordinary behaviour this morning was learned from the female brothel-keeper with whom you lived for the year following your parents’ death?”
“Lilian was not a brothel-keeper,” Janey retorted. “She owned a boarding house.”
“A boarding house! A wooden hut where men drank liquor, and women sold their services.” Mrs Filmore gave a theatrical shudder. “If I had been your poor dear late grandpapa, I should never have brought you back here.”
“Sometimes, Mrs Filmore,” Janey muttered as she began to climb the stairs, “I wish that he had not.” But she knew that was not true, not any longer. It had not been true from the moment Jonathan Lindsay had first smiled at her.
“About time, Jono, where the devil have you been?” Lord Derwent said complainingly as Jonathan entered the library of Southbrook House. “This place is freezing, and I’ve been ringing for ages for your man to bring some more wood for the fire. Had to put some books on—only Mrs Radcliffe,” he added as Jonathan frowned. “Didn’t think you’d miss those.”
“Probably not,” Jonathan conceded, as he stepped up to the fire and held his hands out to the blaze, “but I’d rather you did not burn any more. The reason the servants have not answered is because the bell wires are all in need of replacement. You will have to go to the door and shout.”
“Shout? Didn’t think of that,” Lord Derwent grumbled, leaning back in a creaking chair upholstered with well-worn green leather and putting his feet up upon the brass fender. “And where have you been?” he asked as his brown gaze took in Jonathan’s muddy boots.
“Playing in the garden and walking in the woods,” Jonathan said with a grin, sitting down in the opposite chair.
“Playing in the garden! Walking in the woods on a November evening!” Lord Derwent scowled, his fastidious nose wrinkling as the wet and muddy Tess pushed against his boots in an effort to get closer to the fire. “And to think we could have been at White’s, or eating Wilkin’s steak and oyster pie.”
“Woods have their compensations,” Jonathan said, “in the very delicious shape of Miss Hilton.”
“What!” Lord Derwent’s feet dropped from the fender to the floor. “You’ve not had an assignation with Miss Hilton already! How the deuce did you manage that?”
“Very easily.” Jonathan laughed. “I do hope you’ve told your horseman to get Triton fit for me, Perry. Winning this wager is going to be easier than beating you at cards.”
“After you’ve failed to save her arsonist?” Lord Derwent shook his head. “I’ll believe it when I see it. A walk in the woods is one thing but—” he made an eloquent gesture “—is quite another.”
“I haven’t failed yet. We are going back to Town.”
“Hurrah!” Lord Derwent’s countenance brightened immeasurably.
“As soon as we have dined.”
“Tonight?” Lord Derwent groaned. “But it’s just started to rain.”
“There’s not much time and I want to see Caroline Norton.”
“Caro Norton.” Lord Derwent looked at him in surprise. “I thought it was all over between you years ago.”
“It was. But we have retained a fondness for one another.” Jonathan smiled. “Melbourne is besotted with her and, where he might not do me a favour—”
“He will do anything for the beautiful Mrs Norton,” Lord Derwent said slowly, “and Mrs Norton will do anything for you.”
“Exactly, Perry, exactly.” Jonathan laughed. “I don’t know why I did not think of it before.”
“Probably because you haven’t been thinking clearly since you first saw that female,” Lord Derwent muttered darkly. “If it wasn’t for her, you’d not have contemplated taking on this place for a moment.”
“What did you say?” Jonathan said, lifting his gaze from the flames of the fire into which he had been staring.
“Nothing.” Lord Derwent sighed dejectedly. “I’ll go and shout for Brown.”
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