Page 31 of The Defiant Governess
Saybrook let out a peal of laughter. “Good Lord, I wouldn’t be eight again for all the tea in China!”
“Then try not to act like it,” she retorted in a low voice as she walked past him into the dining room.
Saybrook was seated at the head of the table with Jane to his right and Peter to his left. It was an arrangement that had only begun very recently, but Jane noted that it had been good for all concerned. It must have been very austere and lonely for the marquess to take his meals all by himself in the cavernous room night after night. So when he tentatively suggested that might be good for Peter to become accustomed to an adult table she had enthusiastically endorsed the plan. The boy was delighted with the change and had lost nearly all his shyness around his uncle. In fact, she could see the bond between the two of them growing stronger every day. And just the other evening, she had realized with a start that the marquess had been here for weeks and showed no sign of leaving.
Jane had to admit that it was pleasant to have stimulating company at meals. She even found herself looking forward to the verbal sparring that took place with Saybrook each evening.
”What do you think about the latest news of Wellington’s movements in Spain,” she asked after the soup was served. She was curious as to his views on military tactics.
Saybrook raised an eyebrow at her. “And how do you know anything about Wellington?” he inquired.
“I read the same papers as you—after you have finished with them of course. Glavin puts them aside for me each night.”
“I thought it was only proper for ladies to read the fashion articles and the betrothal notices in the newspapers..”
Jane felt her temper rising. Why was it men assumed that no woman possessed a brain—or would know what to do with it if she had.
“No doubt you do.” Her voice had an edge to it. “But then I am not a lady, remember? No doubt you feel that ladies would be incapable of comprehending anything more demanding than the newest way to set a piece of lace or the latestondit. Why, I’m sure your ideal of a lady is sweet, biddable creature who wouldn’t dream of having an opinion about anything!”
The marquess nearly choked on his soup. He lay down his spoon slowly. “No, Miss Langley. I have no interest in vapid, uninteresting ladies, for that is what you have just described.”
Jane smiled to herself, thinking she had caught him out on this exchange. “Well then, you must be hard-pressed to have a stimulating discussion with the ladies of your acquaintance.”
A glint of amusement lit his eyes. “On the contrary, Miss Langley. But then again, perhaps it is because the ladies I know are proficient in arts other than conversation.”
Jane’s face flooded with color. She was about to take him to task for his utter lack of propriety when she noticed Peter’s rapt face taking in the conversation. She set her jaw and put down her own spoon in stony silence.
“Now, about Wellington …” Saybrook continued as if nothing awkward had happened and launched into a detailed and lengthy assessment of the Spanish situation. Despite her resolve to ignore him for the rest of the meal, she couldn’t help being drawn into the discussion, disagreeing with him on some points, nodding in vigorous approval for others. She had just finished explaining why she thought the supply lines should be changed for the Peninsula campaign when she noticed that the last plateshad been cleared away and a bottle of brandy had been placed by the marquess’s side.
How long had he been waiting for her and Peter to withdraw?
“Oh dear,” she trailed off. “I’m afraid I’ve gotten carried away. Peter, come along to the drawing room. Forgive me, sir, for keeping you.”
“Peter, go along and set up the chess board—you might want to practice your openings,” said Saybrook. He turned to her. “Miss Langley, a moment.”
She stopped midway in rising from her chair.
“I’m thoroughly enjoying our conversation. Why should you feel compelled to withdraw because you are a la ... woman. Why not join me for a glass of brandy?”
Jane had never tasted brandy before. She knew she was being reckless but she wasn’t going to back down from the challenge that seemed to come from his eyes.
“Why not?” she replied, hoping she sounded more sure of herself than she felt.
Saybrook pored two glasses and placed one squarely in front of her. He raised his own in toast.
“To Wellington.”
Jane followed his example and took a large swallow. She nearly choked on the fiery spirits and had a hard time blinking back the tears that her strangled coughs were causing.
Saybrook appeared not to notice as he continued the conversation, this time discussing the merits of the Allied cavalry. Every few minutes he would pause for another sip, and Jane felt compelled to match him.
Soon both glasses were empty.
“Would you like another?”
Jane’s face felt on fire. “N-no, thank you.”
His lips twitched.
