In the Arms of an Earl (14 page)

“Colonel Blakeney is not what you think, Mamma.”

Her mother’s hands flitted like birds over her head, patting sweaty tendrils of fading red hair back into place. She paused to glare at Jane.

“I know he is nobility
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well, the brother of nobility, which is nearly the same thing
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and will be a guest in our house, and you refuse to tell your own poor mother! You know how vexing this is to me. Lady Simpson would have sent her barouche to meet him at the Boar’s Head, and as it is, your poor father has taken the cart to greet him, because the coach has the bad wheel. So, now, the brother of one of the most powerful men in England is coming to my house, to eat a tough joint of beef, and all I have is the malmsey wine.” She picked up the pillow and fluffed it again. “The brother of an earl…in my house!”

Mercifully, her father’s return signified a return to normalcy. The cart stopped in the yard, and the low sound of men’s voices reached her. She paused before opening the door, her heart in her throat. Colonel Blakeney could beg for Jeremy all he wanted; she would refuse. Rather to remain a spinster than marry someone like Jeremy.

She opened the door as her father climbed down from the cart, standing back to let his companion alight.

The weeks of separation had done nothing to diminish her memory of him. His elegant riding coat flapped about his legs as he walked, his stride confident and purposeful. His long hair swept about his face in glossy black locks. He looked even more like a pirate than he ever had before.

Her resolve to be firm died a slow, pitiable death. She stumbled forward when her father called to her.

“Ah, there’s my sweet Jane. My dear, you remember Colonel Blakeney?”

The coal black eyes fastened on hers, mesmerizing her. She studied his face for any sign of an ulterior motivation, but his demeanor was kindly. He extended his hand, and she took it. The broad fingers squeezed hers ever so slightly.

“How do you do, Miss Brooke?” He bowed over her hand.

She bobbed a curtsy, relief flooding her like a cool breeze. The penetrating stare he gave her assured his intent was friendly. They had shared such an easy companionship at the Parkers’, and it seemed it would continue, unhindered by any frivolous actions on Jeremy’s part.

“I’m quite well, thank you, Colonel Blakeney. Your arrival is a…a pleasant surprise.”

“I would have come sooner but was detained in London.”

“Then…” She took a deep breath. “You did not come from Shropshire?”

He looked puzzled. His jaw clenched but relaxed a moment later. “I left the day after you did. My brother is ill.”

“I thought you left that morning…” Too late, she realized his sudden departure had been an excuse. His flush confirmed it, but a wry smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“I spent the night at an inn, only to return to Everhill the next day to find you gone.”

If only she’d listened to Lucinda and remained where she was. He’d gone to the inn because he was angry. Or jealous.

Before she could further dwell on this revelation, her father motioned toward the house. “I am sure Colonel Blakeney would like to rest, Jane. Let’s go inside, shall we?”

She stepped aside, embarrassed. “Dinner is almost ready. Please, come and meet my mother.” She was anxious to avoid the frank look in his piercing eyes that seemed to know and see everything in her heart.

Her mother waited, perched on the edge of a stiff chair, a piece of paper in front of her face as she pretended to be engrossed in an important missive. Jane recognized it as that day’s order to the cook.

“Mamma,” she said pointedly, “Colonel Blakeney’s arrived.”

Her mother looked up with an air of casual boredom, hiding the fact she’d been running around like a singed cat a few minutes before. Her mild sneer as became a fine lady vanished so quickly it was almost comical. Without even speaking, Jane knew her mother’s thoughts.

Frederick Blakeney was not an old soldier, friend or not of the elderly Colonel Parker. Mrs. Brooke rose to her feet, her mouth agape as he strode across the room, exuding the self-confidence of a man used to being in charge.

“What a lovely home you have, Mrs. Brooke. I’ve heard so many things about it from your daughter.” He kissed the offered hand, and Jane stifled a laugh as her mother all but swooned.

“Thank you, Colonel Blakeney,” she replied in an unusually high voice. “And please, accept our thanks for bringing Jane’s things with you. But you should not have put yourself through any trouble.”

He smiled slightly. “What things?”

Jane wished the floor would open and swallow her up, her mother along with her. “Colonel Blakeney,” she said hastily, before her mother could make mention of the shawl and stocking, the sources of his humiliation at the ball, “my mother is referring to any items I may have left at Everhill.” She gave her mother what she hoped was a silencing look. “But I am sure Lucinda would have sent along anything I had forgotten.”

If the memory of the sawdust-filled glove attached to her stocking embarrassed him, he did not show it.

“Alas, I am not on a recovery mission but was passing through and decided to see Weston for myself. Miss Brooke did describe it so charmingly.” When he smiled at her mother, Mrs. Brooke seemed to melt from the force of his charm.

“Oh, la, colonel,” her mother giggled, “Weston is nothing compared to Shropshire. Jane told us how lovely it was at Everhill. The riding, the long walks…” She sighed for dramatic effect. “It is quite different from our quiet piece of the world.”

The colonel’s expression had remained politely interested, but a faint shadow crossed his face at her mother’s description of how Jane had spent her days in Shropshire. She’d neglected to mention meeting the colonel and the long days they’d spent at the pianoforte and in the library.

Avoiding his gaze, she longed for a change to the conversation, and fortunately, her mother provided it.

“Mr. Brooke and I intend a visit to Derbyshire in a few months. Our eldest, Amelia, will be a mother again. She was married only two years ago and has twin daughters. My other daughter, Rosie…Rosalind, was a bride at the same time. I don’t know if you’re acquainted with the Shelbournes of Kent?”

Pride oozed from her voice. It was all Jane could do not to squirm. The colonel gave a polite nod. “I did hear about their marriage,” he said. “I knew Shelbourne from my regiment, during the war.”

“Did you lose your hand in battle?” She pointed at his noticeably empty cuff. “We’ve plenty of cripples in Weston since the war, have we not, Jane?”

Jane choked in her haste to speak. “Would you care for some refreshment before dining, Colonel Blakeney?” she asked, but her mother had moved to the cabinet against the wall to fetch the pictures of Amelia and Rosalind, which took precedence over the other family treasures on display.

“Jane, bring Colonel Blakeney a cup of tea,” her mother said dismissively. “Colonel, these are my other daughters…Amelia and Rosalind. Are not they the most beautiful brides you have ever seen? And how richly adorned! They are fortunate to have such indulgent husbands. See the cunning choker on my Rosie…Rosalind. Pearls from an island so far away! And my Amelia…” She snatched Rosalind’s portrait from his hand, replacing it with Amelia’s. “Is not my Amelia the very image of a beautiful bride? She had so many proposals before Mr. Copeland won her. Rosalind also had many suitors. Their poor father suffered in keeping them all sorted.”

Frederick admired the picture, but Jane noticed the muscles in his jaw working. “Your daughters are all quite beautiful, madam. I don’t know if I could say if one is lovelier than the others.”

Mrs. Brooke took the picture from him, her lips pursed. “Anyone can see Amelia is the loveliest, Colonel Blakeney, though it is polite for you to be so agreeable. Jane, dear, where is the colonel’s tea?”

Winking at Jane, he bowed to her mother. “I am in no hurry for tea but would enjoy seeing the rest of the house first, Mrs. Brooke, if your daughter would kindly show me around.”

He offered his arm, and Jane took it, relieved to be spared the rest of her mother’s enthusiastic comments about her sisters. When they were in the hall, Jane looked up into his eyes. Their rich color reminded her of the chocolates he’d bought her in Shropshire.

“Please, sir, excuse my mother. My sisters’ recent marriages and pending states of motherhood have left her with little else to discuss.”

“Children are a blessing. Grandchildren, even more so. It’s quite natural she should be proud.”

“Oh, she’s very proud, I assure you.”

He chuckled. “My own dear mother, God rest her soul, was just the same, although none of her sons presented her with any grandchildren to spoil. I rather miss her clucking and chattering. Your mother is delightful, Miss Brooke. Do not trouble yourself at all. I have no intention of fleeing.”

His gaze locked with hers. For a few silent moments, she wondered if he hinted at how she’d run away from Everhill without saying goodbye. Lowering her eyes, she stared somewhere in the middle of his waistcoat.

“I wish to apologize for my abrupt departure.”

He raised her chin with his fingertip. The merest touch sent a ripple of goose bumps over her arms. “You owe me no apology, my dear Miss Brooke. Anyway…” He patted her hand, which rested on his opposite arm, “We are united again, eh?”

Her chest tightened with renewed hope. Perhaps he had missed their friendship as much as she had. Was it possible Lucinda had been correct about his interest in her? Before she could further speculate, he motioned toward a side door off the hall. “Now, where’s the infamous cup of tea everyone’s taunted me with?”

“I will ring for a pot.” She headed for the bell, but he stopped her with a laugh.

“May we get it ourselves? I wish to see the rest of the house.”

“You want to see the kitchen?” Try as she could, she did not recall her sisters’ husbands ever exploring past the drawing or dining rooms.

He grinned. “It is a regular kitchen, is it not?”

Their arrival astounded the housekeeper and Cook, who stared while Jane poured two steaming cups of tea. He spoke to the servants in a friendly manner and even tasted a spoonful of broth Cook offered him from the pot on the stove. He declared it exemplary, and Jane knew the hearts of both women were his.

After tea, Jane gave him a tour of the rest of the house, stopping at her father’s study, where her father greeted them. He shook the colonel’s hand, and Jane marveled at her father’s genuine interest in their guest.

“How long will you be visiting Weston, sir?” her father asked.

Jane waited eagerly for his response, though she hoped to appear as if the answer didn’t matter.

“A week, for certain. I return to London on Friday next.”

“Mrs. Brooke longs for town, but I never could stand the crowds. We prefer the quiet of the country, do we not, Jane?”

She nodded, impatient to be alone with the colonel again. “Are you staying at the Boar’s Head?”

“Colonel Blakeney will stay with us,” her father said quickly. “I checked at the Boar’s Head this morning, and it is all filled up, I’m afraid. Would you mind, sir?”

If the colonel were pleased at this news, Jane could not tell. He gave a gracious little bow. “I do not wish to be any trouble.”

“No trouble at all. I will have your things brought up to the guest chamber.”

Jane hid her surprise at her father’s sudden bout of hospitality. The only guest chamber she knew was an unused bedroom, which consisted of a bedstead and one chair. Perhaps her father had offered because the colonel was such a good friend of Colonel Parker’s. Either way, it meant they would have more time together. The thought was altogether delightful.

“Would you care to see the rest of the grounds? There is still time before dinner.”

“I would. Is the goat with the missing leg still here?”

Her father chuckled. “She told you about Sir Winston?”

“Your daughter had several amusing tales about the animals on your estate. I never tired of hearing them.”

Mr. Brooke looked from one to the other and slowly nodded. “Jane has a tender heart. Despite her retiring nature, she enjoys helping others, much to the grievous despair of her mother. She’s been known to help the village doctor from time to time.”

“She told me as much.”

Jane cleared her throat to prevent them from talking about her as if she weren’t there. She had the strangest feeling the colonel wanted to be alone with her, rather than passing time in idle conversation with her father. His visit was most definitely not on Jeremy’s behalf. Had it been, he surely would have mentioned it to her father by now.

“The yard is just through the door,” she said, as excited as if they were about to embark on a great journey, and not just inspect the tidy rows of cabbages and carrots. Her father seemed overly pleased at something, but her happiness at being with the colonel outweighed her curiosity.

Chapter Fourteen

“Do you know the Duke of Broadsworth?” her mother asked the colonel the moment a servant brought in their plates. “My husband’s nephew, Mr. Smythe, is the rector at his estate.”

The colonel’s wine glass paused an inch from his lips. “I regret I have not made his acquaintance.”

“Ah, but your brother must know him. The earl, I mean.” She gave him a sly wink.

Jane struggled to catch her father’s attention in hopes of sending him a silent message to save the situation, but he seemed deeply enthralled with the effects of candlelight on his water goblet. When she sneaked a look at the colonel, relief flooded her to see he exhibited no evidence of being affronted by her mother’s outspoken behavior.