My Lord Winter by Carola Dunn Page A

poke up the fire, adding coals, and to light a branch of candles on the mantel, for the fog-dimmed daylight made reading difficult. Jane resisted the temptation to chat with him, not wishing to bring down Bradbury’s ire upon him. No one else disturbed her, and after a while she kicked off her slippers, tucked her feet under her, and made herself thoroughly comfortable.
    Not unnaturally after her busy night, comfort led to drowsiness. She was unaware of the library door opening, and the sound of a firm tread on the polished floor boards registered only faintly. The scrape of a chair roused her just enough to think that she ought to sit up straight and put on her shoes, but when silence followed, the effort of moving seemed too great. She fell back on a hope that no one would notice her presence.
    A voice startled her into full wakefulness.
    “Come in, Judith. Pray be seated. I daresay I need not enquire why you asked to see me.”
    Lord Wintringham, at his most sarcastic. Jane decided it was too late to beat a retreat.
    “I am too agitated to sit down. Edmund, you must help us.” That sulky whine was his sister, Mrs. Parmenter.
    “Must I?”
    “If you do not, we shall be ruined!”
    “I doubt it.”
    “Remember that Henry is not a peer. He has no immunity to arrest for debt. Think of the scandal if he is dragged off to the Marshalsea!”
    “I cannot think it likely.”
    “It is certain, if you will not aid us! Can you bear to see the name of Neville, the name of Wintringham, dragged through the mire?”
    “The name dragged through the mire will be Parmenter,” the earl pointed out with cold contempt.
    “Everyone knows the connexion. People will say you have no family pride, that you are too mean to assist your closest relatives.”
    “Might I suggest that you sell the rubies you were wearing last night, Judith?”
    “They are not paid for,” she said resentfully.
    “Then if you return them to the jeweller you will be relieved of a considerable part of your obligations. And if you rusticate this spring instead of going up to Town for the Season, no doubt you will manage to come about.”
    “Not go to Town! It’s all very well for you, you prefer to moulder in the country, but...”
    “My habits are not under discussion, ma’am. You would do well to look to your own, and your husband’s. It is past time you learned to be beforehand with the world. I have no intention of throwing my money at your debts only to allow you to contract new ones.”
    “But, Edmund, we are at Point Nonplus!”
    “Not a penny. Now, if you will excuse me, I have work to do.”
    “You odious, cold-hearted brute! You are well named My Lord Winter. I am ashamed to call you brother.” Bursting into tears, Mrs. Parmenter rushed from the room and slammed the door behind her.
    Jane knelt on the seat of her chair and peeped over the back. Lord Wintringham was standing behind the desk, his face grim.
    “You were not very kind,” she said.
    He started. “What the devil are you doing here?”
    “Eavesdropping,” Jane admitted candidly. “I beg your pardon, my lord. I did not intend to, but I was reading and I must have fallen asleep. By the time I woke up you were already bullying Mrs. Parmenter and I thought it best not to interrupt.’’
    “Bullying!” He came round the desk and strode towards her.
    She sat down quickly and reached for her shoes. Her head bowed as she tucked her toes into one of them, she said with slightly nervous resolution, “Yes, bullying. You were unconscionably harsh, my lord. Can you spare your sister nothing when you are so wealthy? Or—oh dear—perhaps you cannot afford to help her. Is all this luxury built on a heap of debts? I beg your pardon, sir, but such things are known.”
    “My dear Miss Worldly-Wise, I could afford to pay the Parmenters’ debts twice over and never know the difference.” Looking almost amused, the earl dropped into the chair opposite Jane and stretched out his long,