Page 8 of Ten Lords for the Holidays

He didn’t want Jane to pretend it hadn’t happened either. He’d seen in her eyes the yearnings he felt—for love, for life, for something beyond what each of them had.

Spencer faced Barnett squarely. “Do not propose to her,” he said. “Do not force her to plunge further into obligation. She won’t refuse you. She’ll feel it her duty to accept.”

“It is her duty, damn you. What am I to do? Leave her for you?” When Spencer didn’t answer, Barnett’s eyes widened. “I see. Devil take you, man. I brought you home as a friend.”

Spencer held him with a gaze that made Barnett’s color rise. “That is true. Are you going to call me out?”

Barnett hesitated, then shook his head. “I’ll not sully our friendship by falling out over a woman.”

Spencer fought down disgust. “If you loved her, truly loved her, you’d strike me down for even daring to suggest I wanted her, and then you’d leap over my body and rush to her. You don’t love her, do you? Not with all your heart.”

Barnett shrugged. “Well, I’m fond of the gel, naturally.”

“Fondis not what I’d feel, deep inside my soul, for the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.” Spencer slapped his palm to his chest. “Release her, Barnett. Or love her, madly, passionately. She merits no less than that.”

Spencer seized his white ball and spun it across the table. It caromed off one edge, two, three, and then struck the red ball with a crack like a gunshot and plunged into a pocket.

“Add up my points,” Spencer said. “If you will not tell Lady Jane what is truly in your heart,Iwill.”

He strode from the room, his heart pounding, his blood hot.The captain is a volatile man,he’d heard his commanders say of him,Once he sets his mind on a thing, step out of his way.

Behind him, Barnett called plaintively, “What about the game? I’ll have to consider it a forfeit, you know.”

A forfeit, indeed.

Spencer went down the stairs to the main hall and asked the nearest footman to direct him to Lady Jane.

CHAPTER4

The gardens were coveredwith snow, the fountains empty and silent, but they suited Jane’s mood. She ought to be in the house entertaining guests, or helping her mother, or looking after Grandfather, but she could not behave as though nothing had shaken her life to its foundations.

She should be glad John was home, feel tender happiness as the reward for waiting for his return.

All she could think of was Spencer Ingram’s gray eyes sparkling in the firelight after he’d kissed her. Could think only of the heat of his lips on hers, the fiery touch of his tongue. It was as though John Barnett did not exist.

Was she so fickle? So featherheaded that the moment another man crossed her path, she eagerly turned to follow him?

Or was there more than that? John had more or less ignored her since he’d arrived. Instead of resenting his indifference, Jane had been relieved.

Relieved.What was the matter with her?

A pair of statues at the far end of the garden marked the edge of her father’s park. Both statues were of Hercules—the one the right battling the Nemean lion; on the left, the hydra. Beyond these guardians lay pastureland rolling to far hills, today covered with a few inches of snow.

Jane contemplated the uneven land beyond the statues and reluctantly turned to tramp back.

A man in a blue uniform with greatcoat and black boots strode around the fountains and empty flower beds toward her. He was alone, and his trajectory would make him intersect Jane’s path. No one else wandered the garden, few bold enough to risk the ice-cold January morning.

Running would look foolish, not to mention Jane had nowhere to go. The fields, cut by a frozen brook, offered hazardous footing. Plus she was cold and ready to return to the house. Why should she flee her own father’s garden?

Jane continued resolutely toward Captain Ingram, nodding at him as they neared each other. “Good morning,” she said neutrally.

“Good morning,” he echoed, halting before her. “Is it good?”

Jane curled her fingers inside her fur muff. “The weather is fair, the sun shining. The guests are enjoying themselves. The New Year’s holiday is always pleasant.”

Ingram’s eyes narrowed. “Pleasant. Enjoying themselves.” His voice held a bite of anger. “What about you, Lady Jane? Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Of course. I like to see everyone home. If my brother and his wife could come, that would be even more splendid.”

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