Heiress in Love (13 page)

“How old was he at the time?” And why did she grasp at extenuating circumstances?

The duke shrugged. “Twenty? Twenty-one? Old enough to know better.”

Young enough to make a mistake.

Jane shook herself. Defending him, now, was she? She’d no more sense than that poor, deluded young lady. An honorable man would never refuse to marry a gently born girl he’d ruined, no matter how young he was.

It seemed the duke would not assist her in her plans to marry the new Lord Roxdale. She would have to secure Constantine’s agreement on her own.

If the duke’s disclosure was anything to judge by, Constantine Black was ruthless when it came to avoiding the parson’s mousetrap.

Reverting to their original topic of conversation, she said, “Whatever the case with the estate, I ought to remain here to ensure the reins of the household are handed over without too much disruption.”

“Yes.” The duke took out his watch and flicked open the lid, then returned it to his pocket. “I would caution you to have a care, however. Constantine Black is not to be trusted.”

She thought of the previous evening in the chapel. How reckless she’d been! But he hadn’t ravished her, for all that. Hadn’t even stolen a kiss. He had merely …

Unbidden, a thrill shivered up her spine.

To cover her reaction, Jane smoothed her skirts over her lap. “You needn’t be concerned, Your Grace,” she said. “
I
am not a silly young girl. Indeed, I am perhaps the last woman on earth who would fall for the wiles of such a man.”

The hooded eyes regarded her for a moment. “Hmm. Yes. Still, it is not desirable that you remain in the same house with him for too long. I wouldn’t countenance it at all if it were not for the awkward way in which things have been left.”

“Lady Endicott has promised to stay to lend me countenance,” she reminded him.

Montford nodded. “To be sure. Where is the countess? I haven’t seen her since the funeral.”

“She took to her bed yesterday evening with a sick headache. Her maid told me the countess is usually well again after a day’s rest.”

He frowned. “It is to be hoped the lady doesn’t remain indisposed. She is hardly an adequate chaperone if she never leaves her bedchamber.”

Jane lifted her chin. “As I said, I’m not a silly young girl, Your Grace. Constantine Black is unlikely to trouble me.” She regarded him steadily. “You do not think he would press his attentions on an unwilling woman, do you?”

“No. No, I expect he would draw the line at that,” said Montford. “Still, it would be best if an alternative arrangement could be made, as Lady Endicott won’t wish to remain here for long. I will think on it and advise you.”

Should she mention Luke? Perhaps that wouldn’t be wise. If Montford knew how much she wanted Luke with her, he might suspect her motives for remaining at Lazenby. He might step in to stop her courting Constantine Black.

A bustle outside brought the duke to his feet. Unhurriedly, he moved to glance out the window.

“Ah. It seems all is ready for our departure. I must take my leave.” In his elegant, leisurely fashion, the duke drew on his gloves.

He looked down at her for a long moment. “Good-bye, Jane.”

Her name. He’d used her name. She gazed back up at him in wonder. Did she merely imagine that his expression had softened? A trick of the light perhaps …

She made no response, but turned to accompany him down to the carriage.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The duke’s entourage departed. Jane stood beneath the portico and waved until the carriages were blurry figures drawing out of sight. Though she knew why they went, she could not help but feel a touch abandoned.

However, there was no time for such maudlin thoughts. She needed to steel herself for her campaign to court Constantine Black.

She’d tried reason. She’d tried being pleasant—although that effort had not been entirely wholehearted, she’d admit. Cecily’s suggestion that Jane should let Constantine compromise her to force him into marriage was rendered moot by Montford’s revelations about the scandal concerning Miss Flockton. Clearly, the new baron did not care for anyone’s good opinion. Even if Jane could bring herself to play temptress, it would be for naught if Constantine Black refused to marry her.

Perhaps Cecily’s other suggestion was more likely to bear fruit. Jane needed to charm Constantine Black into marriage. He would never love her, but if he liked her well enough and found her moderately attractive, he might choose to wed her instead of pursuing other means of repairing his fortune.

So, it was up to Jane to captivate him. She sighed. Captivating gentlemen had never been her forte. Another reason she’d been glad to eschew a London debut and marry Frederick at seventeen.

Jane turned to go inside, to find Constantine standing at the top of the steps, watching her. She met his eyes, and that jolt of …
something
hot and vital surged within her.

She colored—stupid blushes!—and his expression warmed with appreciation. He descended the steps in a leisurely fashion, never taking his gaze from hers.

A silly, panicked fluttering struck up in her chest. She tried desperately to think of something pleasant to say to him, but his demeanor, redolent of male satisfaction, made her hackles rise. Her instinct was to deliver a frigid snub, but that would not help her.

Remember the plan. Remember Luke. Forget your pride.

Constantine tilted his head, as if to examine her more closely. “I think it must be the translucence of your skin that makes your blushes so delightfully ready. May I touch it?”

Her face reddened further. “No! You may not!” She darted a look around, but there was no one near them to hear this embarrassing exchange.

A glint of triumph lit Constantine’s eyes. Clearly, he’d intended to fluster her and was pleased with the result.

Remembering her cousins’ strictures, she bit back an acid retort. Her lips stiff, she said, “It is a fine day. Would you—would you like me to show you the gardens?”

He didn’t dispute the patent untruth of her comment about the weather. Nor did he point out that he was already acquainted with the house and its gardens.

Instead, he gave a slight shrug of those broad shoulders. “Why not?”

Constantine made as if to take her arm but she swept past him and stepped briskly toward the path. “This way.”

Jane led him to the parterre garden, a geometrically designed relic of a more formal age. She kept up an informative commentary as they moved along. All the while, she was aware that his gaze never left her, even as she pointed out several unusual species and points of interest.

She decided to take the bull by the horns. “You seem distracted, my lord.”

He glanced into the distance, then transferred his gaze to her. “Might we put an end to this foolish and quite unnecessary formality? We are cousins by marriage, after all.
Jane
.”

She’d always thought her name prosaic, but it sounded quite different when he said it. Warm and intimate, like a caress. The thrill that single syllable produced shocked her.

She ought not to allow the familiarity, not from a man of his reputation. In ordinary circumstances, she’d refuse him.

Yet, was it not her objective to promote goodwill between them? As long as that goodwill didn’t extend too far …

She temporized. “I admit, it is a little confusing to call you Lord Roxdale, after Frederick. And we are related by marriage, as you said.” She gave a crisp nod. “Very well, then.”

He halted her by placing a hand on her arm. “And still, you have not said my name.”

Of course, he wouldn’t let her elude him so easily. Jane stared up at him for some moments. In a clear, deliberate voice stripped of emotion, she said, “Constantine.”

She wondered if he experienced a thrill similar to hers. His darkened expression told her he had. Or perhaps that look signified satisfaction at so easily getting his own way. What did he want with her?

Suddenly, she felt as if the two of them were very much alone out here. Jane’s blood rushed in tune with the fountains playing behind them. The breath hitched in her throat.

Before she knew it, he’d reached out and brushed a crooked finger down her burning cheek.

“You’re doing it again,” he said. “Regrettably, I have business to attend to this morning or I’d find a thousand more interesting ways to make you blush.”

She couldn’t mistake his meaning. A panicky wave of excitement washed through her. How on earth was she to captivate Constantine without finding herself thoroughly seduced? She could almost laugh at how naïvely she’d adopted this plan. Courting the new Lord Roxdale was like making overtures of friendship to a jungle cat. One was most likely to be devoured.

Then she registered what he’d said. “Business?” she repeated. “To do with the estate?”

“Yes.” He leaned down to pluck a malingering daisy from the lawn. “You needn’t sound so incredulous,” he murmured, presenting the cheerful bloom to her. “I’m not wholly ignorant of the principles of estate management.”

There was a touch of hauteur in his tone that struck her as out of keeping with the care-for-nothing demeanor she’d observed thus far. She was chastened by it.

After a slight hesitation, Jane accepted the daisy he proffered. She didn’t object when he took her arm and altered their course away from the fountains.

“I recall now,” she said. “You own an estate in Derbyshire, don’t you?”

A frown entered his eyes. “That’s right. Broadmere.”

She wondered what made him look so grim. “Don’t you wish to live there?”

He shook his head. “I haven’t set foot in the place since I inherited it.”

Jane stared at him. No wonder Frederick had railed about Constantine being a neglectful landlord.

“At least it will be no penance to be indoors on such a day.” Constantine squinted up at the sky, which held yet more rain over their heads like a threat. “Tedious work, no doubt, but I need a more thorough understanding of the way Frederick left things before I can decide how I should proceed.”

Did he mean before he decided whether to marry her?

She said, “You may choose not to believe me, but I truly regret the way things have been left. It seems so irresponsible, so unlike Frederick to land us in such a mess.”

Constantine shrugged. “Perhaps he thought there was time to fix things before he went.” He was silent for a moment. “Perhaps he wanted to punish me. We parted bitterly all those years ago.”

“Oh?” Had they quarreled over that lady Constantine had used and abandoned?

He inhaled deeply through his nostrils. “You want to know why.”

“Only if you care to tell me,” she lied.

He looked down at her a moment. “I’m not sure that I do.”

As Jane stood, transfixed, those green eyes softened and deepened, full of shadows and mystery, like an enchanted forest. The emotion in them … She couldn’t place it. Sorrow? Regret?

Had he felt anything toward the lady he’d disgraced? Did he ever think of her now? It was all so many years ago. He must have had dozens—hundreds—of women in his bed since then.

An image of strong limbs, gleaming olive skin, and tangled sheets flashed into her mind. She lowered her eyes, hoping they hadn’t betrayed her.

His nearness affected her profoundly; the air thickened between them until she anticipated his next touch with every breath.

How on earth was she to court him and still fend off his immoral advances? Her sheltered existence had given her no experience of rakes’ wiles. She’d never even been to London for the Season. She’d never encountered anyone like Constantine Black.

He used one gloveless fingertip beneath her chin to tilt her head upward. She saw that his mood had shifted. His expression grew intent.

Tightly, Jane said, “You take liberties where you have not earned the right, my lord.”

His voice was husky. “Ah, but stolen pleasures taste twice as sweet. Don’t you find?”

With a small choke of dismay, Jane shook her head and backed away from him.

He followed, until her back brushed a high hedge behind her. She realized they’d strayed into a secluded part of the garden, shielded from the house by a high yew hedge. How had she not noticed that? Her attention had been consumed by him.

He was too close; the heat of his body seemed to surround her. Humiliating to feel her own flesh blaze to life, her skin tighten in response.

“Yes,” he murmured, as if he knew precisely what his nearness did to her. “You would have been wiser to have accompanied your cousins back to London, Lady Roxdale. I rarely resist temptation, you know.”

“How good of you to warn me,” she said waspishly. “Otherwise, I might have been
quite
taken in.”

The purposeful look vanished. With a short laugh, he stepped back. “Viper! But come, now we understand one another.” His regard slid over her, and she felt it like a hand brushing her skin in forbidden places. “It’s not a crime, Lady Roxdale,” he murmured. “What harm in us finding pleasure in our circumstances?”