Joan Wolf by His Lordship's Mistress

didn’t know you were back in town, Alden.”
    “I arrived only a few days ago, Linton, and have been trying to repair some of the ravages of my absence by making Miss O’Neill’s acquaintance. She has rather an odd scruple, however, about the propriety of my doing so. Would you be so kind as to present me yourself?”
    Linton’s blue eyes regarded him inscrutably for a moment. “But if I did that she might feel free to speak to you,” he finally said pleasantly. “Good evening, Alden.” And turning, with Jessica on his arm, he walked away.
    “I don’t like him,” she said frankly as they went down the stairs. “Who is he?”
    “A Bad Man,” he replied gravely. “Stay away from him.”
    “With pleasure,” she replied decidedly.
    Mr. Romney joined them for supper. Linton sat back and watched with a mixture of amusement and respect as Jessica handled his young cousin. She got Bertram to admit, somewhat to his own surprise, that there were better things to be doing with his life and fortune than gambling. She asked him if he liked horses and listened with grave attention that clearly flattered him as he discussed his favorite pastime at great length. Mr. Romney, whose father had left him a tidy inheritance, had ambitions to race his own horses. Linton thought he could almost see Jessica’s attention click as Bertram said that.
    “I should imagine there are few thrills more exciting than seeing one’s own horse cross the finish line first,” she said.
    Mr. Romney agreed enthusiastically. In fact, he confided, there was going to be a private sale at Sevenoaks on Thursday and he rather thought he might pick up some bargains.
    “Hunter selling out?” asked Linton.
    “Yes. The whole stable is going,” replied his cousin.
    “Hunter?” Jessica looked startled. “He’s one of the biggest breeders in the country. What happened?”
    Two pairs of eyes widened in surprise. “I wouldn’t expect you to know Hunter, Miss O’Neill,” Romney said naively.
    “I’m part Irish,” Jessica replied glibly.“Of course I know horses. What happened to Hunter?”
    Linton folded his hands piously. “The evils of gaming are boundless as the sea. Alas, poor Hunter is the latest victim.”
    “You’re joking me,” she said incredulously.“Hebankrupted himself gambling?”
    “He did.”
    Jessica’s eyes sparkled. “Well, let that be a warning to you, Mr. Romney. I hope in a few years I won’t be going to buy your horses at a bargain.”
    “By Jove, I hope not too!” replied Bertram.
    “Ah—are you going to the sale of Hunter’s horses?” Linton inquired of Jessica.
    “Shouldn’t think you’d like it,” Mr. Romney said frankly. “You do an awful lot of standing about, you know.”
    “I don’t mind standing and I love looking at horses. But you needn’t worry about me. I have the bays. I am perfectly capable of going by myself.”
    “If you want to go I will take you,” Linton said firmly. “I had quite forgotten about the Sevenoaks sale. I’d like to go myself.”
    As they were leaving the club he said to her, “I must thank you for your well-judged words to Bertram. He doesn’t really care for gambling that much; he just thinks it is the thing to do. You handled him very well.”
    She smiled. “He is a nice boy and I’ve had a lot of practice dealing with boys. In some ways he doesn’t seem very much older than my brothers.”
    “Oh?” He kept his voice carefully neutral. “How old are your brothers?”
    “Ten and twelve,” Jessica said, her voice suddenly clipped.
    Tactfully, he changed the subject.
     

Chapter Eight
     
    Desire, desire! I have too dearly bought,
    With price of mangled mind, thy worthless ware.
    — SIR PHILIP SIDNEY
     
    Jessica was furious with herself for telling Linton about her brothers. The problem was that this was not the first such slip she had made. There was something about this man that disarmed her, lulled her into a state of comfortable security where she