The Earl’s Mistletoe Bride by JOANNA MAITLAND Page B

have feelings again, and even to show them. Until the day of his twenty-first birthday, when he came upon Alicia cavorting naked with her lover—Louisa Mountjoy!
    He had instantly seen how he had been manipulated, but he could say and do nothing, for fear of scandal. He had realised he would remain bound, until death, to a woman who would play the part of his wife in public, but would never again share his bed. His only solace was to vow that no one—and especially no woman—would ever have the power to humiliate him again. His father was clearly right—feelings made a man vulnerable. Only a fool trusted anyone but himself.
    Now, all these years later, Jon was free of Alicia at last. He was not free of Louisa Mountjoy, however. Under the terms of Alicia’s will, he had been required to provide an annuity for the Mountjoy woman so that she might enjoy financial independence for life. Jon had been sure she would be gone from King’s Portbury when he returned from Spain. Unfortunately, she had taken a cottage in the village and was a frequent visitor to theDower House instead. It was much too late now for Jon to tell his mother the real truth.
    George, Jon’s only surviving brother, was talking animatedly to their visitor. Judging from his expression, George thought at least as highly of Miss Mountjoy as his mother did. That was surprising, given George’s tastes in women: he frequented low-class brothels and thought nothing of attacking defenceless servant girls. Not in Jon’s house, though. Not any more. On the last occasion, Jon had almost broken George’s jaw. And he had made it clear that if George repeated the offence, he would find himself booted into the gutter, and penniless.
    If George had the run of the estate, no woman would be safe. And none of the tenants, either. George had no idea of duty. He believed the purpose of an estate was purely to provide money to fund the owner’s pleasures. In Jon’s absence, George had ‘persuaded’ the agent at Fratcombe to advance him considerable sums against his expectations as Jon’s heir. The results were disastrous, as Jon had discovered for himself during that one brief spell of home leave. He knew Portbury would have been next. In the end, Jon had had to sell out and come back to England to prevent his brother from doing irreparable damage.
    He turned to their visitor. ‘To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit, ma’am?’ he asked, silkily. It was a peculiar time for her to pay a call. Most of the lady guests were still asleep; any that were awake would be breakfasting in bed.
    ‘Oh, nothing of importance by contrast with thegreat affairs of running an estate. Merely a receipt that I promised to your lady mother.’
    A receipt? The Dowager had never in her life concerned herself with receipts. Cooking was to be left to cooks. Jon bit the inside of his lip to stop himself from laughing aloud at Miss Mountjoy’s ridiculous attempts at deception. In his experience, this woman had a calculated motive for everything she did.
    ‘I’m afraid my mother is still in her bedchamber,’ George put in quickly, ‘though I imagine she will be down quite soon. Perhaps you would take some coffee while you are waiting? Or chocolate?’
    Miss Mountjoy shot an assessing glance at Jon’s stony expression before she replied. ‘Thank you, sir, but I have errands that cannot wait. I shall walk back to the village.’ She stood up and reached for her gloves.
    The two men rose. Jon held out his hand, palm up. ‘If you care to give me your receipt, ma’am, I will ensure it is delivered to my mother.’
    ‘I— No, I— Thank you, my lord, but I should prefer to deliver it myself. There is no urgency and it requires…er…a little explanation. I—’
    George intervened before Miss Mountjoy could tie herself in even more knots. ‘No need for you to involve yourself, Portbury. I will mention it to Mama. I am taking her driving later this morning.’
    ‘I am sure that