Settled, then?” he asked, ready to pull her into his arms for the kiss he’d been long awaiting and felt he richly deserved for not simply throwing the chit over his shoulder and riding off to Gretna Green with her.
Jacelyn still had some reservations, despite the tingle in the hand he was nuzzling. She withdrew it and stood looking down, fiddling with the folds of her dress. “My lord,” she said awkwardly, “I need a…a promise from you.”
Claibourne groaned inwardly. Here it comes, he thought. She’ll ask me to swear off ladybirds. He’d do it, of course, but it would be a dashed short engagement, no matter what he’d said before. “Anything, my love.”
“Please, Leigh, swear you won’t ever go hunting with Squire Bottwick? I couldn’t bear him thinking he won, after all.”
Claibourne laughed out loud and agreed, “But only if you promise to have a care for your reputation in return, if not for my sake, then at least for my poor aunt’s, and your unborn children.”
“My children?”
“Of course. You wouldn’t want all those freckle-faced darlings to come crying home because Priscilla Ponsonby wouldn’t let them play with her brats, would you?”
How wonderful a kiss felt, when you were already smiling!
*
Lord Trevaine invited Leigh to stay for dinner, but the earl refused, citing all he had to accomplish in the fortnight he’d be gone. He mentioned seeing Lady Parkhurst and fetching his great-aunt; he didn’t mention trying to regain his sanity. He wished to be on the road to London well before dark, if Trevaine’s letter to his sister was ready, since he was sure that Lady Ponsonby would not approve of travel on the morrow, a Sunday.
“And I am sure the good Lord sleeps better at night, knowing Clothilda Ponsonby is doing His work,” Lord Trevaine added. “Godspeed, son.”
Jacelyn only whispered: “’Ware of highwaymen.”
Chapter Five
What a difference a few hours made in a man’s life! Just the night before, Claibourne had been on this same road, his good horse under him, and not much ahead of him. Now his future looked interesting, at least, if not bright, and he rode a chestnut gelding from Squire’s stable. His honour wouldn’t let him touch a groat of Jacelyn’s money before they were wed, although her father had trustingly and touchingly offered. The earl was not nearly so under the hatches as to be tempted to accept, nor to take Arthur’s guilt-ridden suggestion of a loan for travelling expenses. Squire’s offer, however, was harder to refuse: a tidy sum of money and the use of a mount, in exchange for Baron’s service with the broodmares for the two weeks Claibourne would be gone. The brute would be hell to ride after, but he’d only be eating his head off in a London stable while Claibourne went north to fetch his aunt. Besides, they all had to make some sacrifices for the cause.
If his horse was back there in Cambridgeshire, so were a great many of my lord’s thoughts. Gads, what had he gotten himself into? She was so young and so appealing, so honest in her nature, and so deliciously devious in her methods. She had the innocence of a loving child, yet her kisses were those of a seductive woman. What a conundrum, and what a delight! The high-born debutantes he’d known, admittedly few and those only slightly, had exactly three public facial expressions: smirk when they were being complimented, sneer when they weren’t, and simper when they couldn’t tell which. Each expression used the minimum of effort, as if they feared any movement of their lips might ruin the perfect china-doll look they struggled to achieve. His Jacelyn, though—already he thought of her with the possessive—held her emotions right in the eyes, in her full mouth, in the straight little nose which crinkled adorably. He was certain he’d not seen half the combinations the changeable little creature possessed. He only hoped London didn’t teach her to cloak all her thoughts and
Jacelyn still had some reservations, despite the tingle in the hand he was nuzzling. She withdrew it and stood looking down, fiddling with the folds of her dress. “My lord,” she said awkwardly, “I need a…a promise from you.”
Claibourne groaned inwardly. Here it comes, he thought. She’ll ask me to swear off ladybirds. He’d do it, of course, but it would be a dashed short engagement, no matter what he’d said before. “Anything, my love.”
“Please, Leigh, swear you won’t ever go hunting with Squire Bottwick? I couldn’t bear him thinking he won, after all.”
Claibourne laughed out loud and agreed, “But only if you promise to have a care for your reputation in return, if not for my sake, then at least for my poor aunt’s, and your unborn children.”
“My children?”
“Of course. You wouldn’t want all those freckle-faced darlings to come crying home because Priscilla Ponsonby wouldn’t let them play with her brats, would you?”
How wonderful a kiss felt, when you were already smiling!
*
Lord Trevaine invited Leigh to stay for dinner, but the earl refused, citing all he had to accomplish in the fortnight he’d be gone. He mentioned seeing Lady Parkhurst and fetching his great-aunt; he didn’t mention trying to regain his sanity. He wished to be on the road to London well before dark, if Trevaine’s letter to his sister was ready, since he was sure that Lady Ponsonby would not approve of travel on the morrow, a Sunday.
“And I am sure the good Lord sleeps better at night, knowing Clothilda Ponsonby is doing His work,” Lord Trevaine added. “Godspeed, son.”
Jacelyn only whispered: “’Ware of highwaymen.”
Chapter Five
What a difference a few hours made in a man’s life! Just the night before, Claibourne had been on this same road, his good horse under him, and not much ahead of him. Now his future looked interesting, at least, if not bright, and he rode a chestnut gelding from Squire’s stable. His honour wouldn’t let him touch a groat of Jacelyn’s money before they were wed, although her father had trustingly and touchingly offered. The earl was not nearly so under the hatches as to be tempted to accept, nor to take Arthur’s guilt-ridden suggestion of a loan for travelling expenses. Squire’s offer, however, was harder to refuse: a tidy sum of money and the use of a mount, in exchange for Baron’s service with the broodmares for the two weeks Claibourne would be gone. The brute would be hell to ride after, but he’d only be eating his head off in a London stable while Claibourne went north to fetch his aunt. Besides, they all had to make some sacrifices for the cause.
If his horse was back there in Cambridgeshire, so were a great many of my lord’s thoughts. Gads, what had he gotten himself into? She was so young and so appealing, so honest in her nature, and so deliciously devious in her methods. She had the innocence of a loving child, yet her kisses were those of a seductive woman. What a conundrum, and what a delight! The high-born debutantes he’d known, admittedly few and those only slightly, had exactly three public facial expressions: smirk when they were being complimented, sneer when they weren’t, and simper when they couldn’t tell which. Each expression used the minimum of effort, as if they feared any movement of their lips might ruin the perfect china-doll look they struggled to achieve. His Jacelyn, though—already he thought of her with the possessive—held her emotions right in the eyes, in her full mouth, in the straight little nose which crinkled adorably. He was certain he’d not seen half the combinations the changeable little creature possessed. He only hoped London didn’t teach her to cloak all her thoughts and
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