her companion.”
She eyed him warily. “You will?” The lords whose homes she’d resided in had made decisions for their wives and daughters. Those same men had only and always acted with their desires placed before anyone else’s. There had to be more at play where the marquess was concerned.
He ran a fierce stare over her. “I will, and when,” not if but rather when, “my sister decides you will not do as her companion, I expect you to take your leave immediately.”
Jane balled her hands into fists. “ When I meet her and if she decides we do not suit,” his eyes narrowed all the more until nothing more than the blacks of his irises were visible. “Then I will leave.” Not before then. Being turned out by Lady Chloe Edgerton was not an option.
The marquess straightened and, with one final hard look, started for the door.
A cowardly surge of relief coursed through her and she hopped to her feet. “My lord,” she called out. He froze at the threshold of the door and spun back to face her. He eyed her in stony silence. “When can I expect to meet Lady Chloe?”
He flexed his jaw. “My sister is now indisposed.”
“Indisposed?” she repeated.
For a long moment he said nothing and she expected he intended to allow that question to go unanswered. After all, it was not her right to put questions to him. Then, she’d never done what was expected of her where Society was concerned. Her lips twisted in a dry smile. That strong-willed aspect of her character had inevitably found her in this now impossible position with the Marquess of Waverly.
He spoke at last. “She suffers megrims, Mrs. Munroe.”
A twinge of guilt struck her. “I am sorry,” she said automatically.
The marquess gave a terse nod and then took his leave. Jane’s shoulders sagged and she gripped the back of the shell chair, borrowing support from the mahogany wood. Each day she was permitted to remain closeted away here, the closer she was to the freedom provided by the trust settled upon her by the duke. She would have claim to that money entitled her and then never again would she rely upon the Duke of Ravenscourt connections, the benevolence of strangers, or the whim of a nobleman. She would be free. Free when her mother had been reliant upon her protector’s generosity.
After days of the dark gloom of rain, an unexpected ray of sun filtered through the crack in the gold brocade curtains. The light danced off the crystal candelabras and threw a rainbow of color about the room. She stilled. As a girl, her mother had filled Jane’s ears with tales of legends and fables and fairytales. The first time Jane had ever seen one of those elusive rainbows, she’d been a girl of six. Her mother had told the tale of all great fortunes found at the end of that colorful masterpiece. All one had to do was battle the devilish leprechaun for those riches.
A smile played about Jane’s lips. It appeared her rainbow emptied out into the Marquess of Waverly’s home and, at the end of this particular battle, she’d have her riches—and then she’d be done with her father, the marquess, and any other arrogant, commanding nobleman.
“Mrs. Munroe?”
A gasp escaped her, and she spun around. The butler stood at the doorway. She relaxed. “Joseph,” she greeted, and with her momentary victory over the marquess and his intentions to send her off, embarrassment crept in at the boldness in commandeering the marquess’ breakfast room.
“As you will be a member of His Lordship’s staff, would you permit me to show you about the townhouse?”
If the marquess had his way, there was little reason for Jane to familiarize herself with any part of his lavish townhome except for the black front door with its dragon knocker. “I would be appreciative,” she said, instead.
He inclined his head, and then without waiting to see whether she followed, started from the room. Jane hurried after the older servant. Joseph moved at an unexpectedly quick
She eyed him warily. “You will?” The lords whose homes she’d resided in had made decisions for their wives and daughters. Those same men had only and always acted with their desires placed before anyone else’s. There had to be more at play where the marquess was concerned.
He ran a fierce stare over her. “I will, and when,” not if but rather when, “my sister decides you will not do as her companion, I expect you to take your leave immediately.”
Jane balled her hands into fists. “ When I meet her and if she decides we do not suit,” his eyes narrowed all the more until nothing more than the blacks of his irises were visible. “Then I will leave.” Not before then. Being turned out by Lady Chloe Edgerton was not an option.
The marquess straightened and, with one final hard look, started for the door.
A cowardly surge of relief coursed through her and she hopped to her feet. “My lord,” she called out. He froze at the threshold of the door and spun back to face her. He eyed her in stony silence. “When can I expect to meet Lady Chloe?”
He flexed his jaw. “My sister is now indisposed.”
“Indisposed?” she repeated.
For a long moment he said nothing and she expected he intended to allow that question to go unanswered. After all, it was not her right to put questions to him. Then, she’d never done what was expected of her where Society was concerned. Her lips twisted in a dry smile. That strong-willed aspect of her character had inevitably found her in this now impossible position with the Marquess of Waverly.
He spoke at last. “She suffers megrims, Mrs. Munroe.”
A twinge of guilt struck her. “I am sorry,” she said automatically.
The marquess gave a terse nod and then took his leave. Jane’s shoulders sagged and she gripped the back of the shell chair, borrowing support from the mahogany wood. Each day she was permitted to remain closeted away here, the closer she was to the freedom provided by the trust settled upon her by the duke. She would have claim to that money entitled her and then never again would she rely upon the Duke of Ravenscourt connections, the benevolence of strangers, or the whim of a nobleman. She would be free. Free when her mother had been reliant upon her protector’s generosity.
After days of the dark gloom of rain, an unexpected ray of sun filtered through the crack in the gold brocade curtains. The light danced off the crystal candelabras and threw a rainbow of color about the room. She stilled. As a girl, her mother had filled Jane’s ears with tales of legends and fables and fairytales. The first time Jane had ever seen one of those elusive rainbows, she’d been a girl of six. Her mother had told the tale of all great fortunes found at the end of that colorful masterpiece. All one had to do was battle the devilish leprechaun for those riches.
A smile played about Jane’s lips. It appeared her rainbow emptied out into the Marquess of Waverly’s home and, at the end of this particular battle, she’d have her riches—and then she’d be done with her father, the marquess, and any other arrogant, commanding nobleman.
“Mrs. Munroe?”
A gasp escaped her, and she spun around. The butler stood at the doorway. She relaxed. “Joseph,” she greeted, and with her momentary victory over the marquess and his intentions to send her off, embarrassment crept in at the boldness in commandeering the marquess’ breakfast room.
“As you will be a member of His Lordship’s staff, would you permit me to show you about the townhouse?”
If the marquess had his way, there was little reason for Jane to familiarize herself with any part of his lavish townhome except for the black front door with its dragon knocker. “I would be appreciative,” she said, instead.
He inclined his head, and then without waiting to see whether she followed, started from the room. Jane hurried after the older servant. Joseph moved at an unexpectedly quick
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