Page 58 of The Defiant Governess
He pursed his lips in thought. It promised to be an interesting evening.
A short naphad erased the fatigue of the journey, and a hot bath had left him feeling much refreshed. As Saybrook shrugged into his evening coat, he found himself looking forward to the evening. Normally he preferred his solitude, but the chance to meet a dear friend of Jane’s had excited his curiosity. And though he hadn’t known what to expect, he found himself rather liking the gruff duke.
Saybrook smiled to himself. Perhaps it was because the duke’s concern for Jane was very evident.
He paused as he began to tie his cravat. The duke had been quick with his hospitality. He had a daughter who was the same age as Jane, one who been out for a Season and was still unmarried. A horrible thought suddenly crossed his mind. He began to envision a squat, squint-eyed young lady—yes, it would be just like Jane to adopt someone like that! But surely the duke couldn’t be thinking of …
And then he relaxed and laughed at his own fears. With her rank and dowry, the duke’s daughter could be a veritable harridan and she would not lack for offers. Breathing a sigh of relief, he straightened the folds of his neckcloth and rang for a footman.
It promised to be an interesting evening.
After looking in on Peter and finding him comfortably settled, Saybrook presented himself at the drawing room door precisely at six. Avanlea greeted him and as they exchanged pleasantries, Saybrook noted that the two young people were at the far end of the room by the fireplace, deeply engrossed in their own conversation.
They had not seen his entrance for their backs were to him. For a moment, he had a chance to study their appearances. The young man tall and slim but solid, with a well-muscled physiques that his expertly tailored clothes—by Weston, no doubt—showed off to perfection. And no doubt that the heir to Avanlea could cut quite a swath in Town if he chose.
But it was the lady who caught his attention. He nearly laughed aloud thinking of the mental image he had formed beforehand. It couldn’t have been further from the truth! She was tall and elegantly slender. Masses of honey-colored hair were dressed in a most becoming style, with just a few loose tendrils drifting down a long and graceful neck. The color of her gown brought out the rich gold of her hair, while the expert cut flattered her lovely figure.
Saybrook felt an involuntary surge of admiration. She was a diamond of the first water, for he had no doubt that picture would be no less lovely when she turned around. And yet, for some unaccountable reason, he felt that there was an odd familiarity about her ….
The duke took his arm and moved towards the fire. “Come now, you two. Don’t put me to the blush with your manners,” he chided before directing his next words to Saybrook.
“Sir, please allow me to present my son Thomas, Viscount Roxbury.”
The young man turned. His face was handsome, with eyes as blue as his father’s, and he smiled politely as he sketched a quick bow. Saybrook felt a slight shock as he realized that the young man so resembled Jane that they could have been twins, except for the blond hair. Perhaps that explained why the duke had a fatherly regard for Miss Langley—for perhaps his interest in his tenants had gone beyond sowing merely wheat.
“And may I present my daughter.”
Saybrook’s mouth dropped in astonishment as the young lady turned to face him.
“I believe you are acquainted with Jane,” continued the duke blandly. “However, I fear you are confused as to her last name. It is Stanhope, not Langley.”
She looked exactly as she had in his dreams, when he had imagined her dressed in expensive silks and fitted gowns rather than her own drab, ill-fitting garments. Instead of a high buttoned neck reaching nearly to her chin, her dress of pale blue figured silk exposed a pair of creamy shoulders and enough bosom to take his breath away. The high waist only heightened the awareness of the rounded curves above it while showing off the slim waist and womanly shape beneath it. With the walnut stain gone, her hair resembled nothing like the mousy color it had been at Highwood but shone like burnished gold. Her skin had a milky luminance matched by the simple strand of pearls at her throat.
He stood in stunned silence, his mouth dry, his body rigid.
Jane appeared just as surprised. Her eyes widened in shock and her polite smile changed to a look of disbelief. “You! How did you—” she blurted out before she recovered enough to stammer a a polite platitude.
Saybrook, barely conscious enough to bow over her extended hand, was saved from having to reply by the entrance of the butler.
“Dinner is served, Your Grace.”
The meal was a strained affair. Both Saybrook and Jane answered any direct question put to them in stilted tones but otherwise remained silent. Thomas shot both of them quizzical glances while keeping up a running conversation with his father. Avanlea jovially discussed the merits of some newly acquired horses, seemingly oblivious to the tension around him. However, despite his feigned nonchalance, he kept a sharp eyeon his daughter and their guest. The spark between the two of them was evident during the few times their eyes accidentally met.
“Is your ward comfortably settled in the nursery?” inquired the duke.
“Yes, thank you,” replied the marquess.
Jane looked up from her plate. “Peter is here?” she exclaimed.
Saybrook didn’t look at her. “Yes.”
“Oh, how is he? His arm?—”
“His arm has mended nicely.” Saybrook paused. “He misses you terribly,” he added in a low voice.
“Oh.” She fought to blink back tears. “I miss him, too.”
There was an awkward silence until Thomas finally spoke up. “May I ask what the devil is going on here?”
