weren't being sent south to contact English Jacobites," he went on smoothly.
Van's heart began to pound. Her thin nostrils quivered. "And if I were?" she managed to ask.
The only sound for a long minute was the clip-clop of the horses' hooves on the path. Finally Van could stand it no longer and looked over at him. His gaze was full upon her, lazy now, mocking. "Well, now, if you were," he said softly, "then I should be most happy to introduce you to whomever you desired to see."
Van's hands involuntarily tightened on the reins and Mallow stopped. Marcus halted too and the two riders stared at each other, the air between them suddenly dense with tension.
"Why would you do that?" Van asked slowly.
"Because nothing would please me more than to. have an accurate reading of the English temper sent to Scotland," he replied. His eyes began to get very blue. "You live in a fog of romantic dreams up there," he said. "The Stuarts will never return to the throne of England. England does not want them. And those English Jacobites your father is so concerned about—oh, they still make sentimental toasts to the 'king over the water,' and all that rot, but if you think they will bestir themselves to aid a rebellion, you are much mistaken."
Van's narrowed eyes glittered between their long dark lashes. "I don't believe you."
"Whom do you want to see?" he asked coldly. "Altop? Stowcroft? Marston? Darby?"
They were all names given to her by her father. "Yes," Van said defiantly.
Marcus began to move forward and Gypsy followed. "Very well," the earl said, "when we reach London I shall arrange it."
Van's thoughts were a mass of alarmed confusion and she started when he reached over to put a hand on her arm. "My mother is to know nothing of this. And you and I are to be polite to each other. I will not have her pleasure spoiled by any Jacobite nonsense. Do you understand me, Van?"
Van's heart was thudding. For some reason, he could make her more furious than she ever remembered being in her life. "I understand you," she said through her teeth. "Edward."
"Good." Their eyes remained locked for a long minute and then he turned away. "Let's trot some more," he said abruptly, and the two horses moved forward in unison.
CHAPTER 6
Edward spent the afternoon at the stables and Van spent the afternoon with the dressmakers. She and Lady Linton were alone at dinner.
"Edward sent word he was taking potluck over at the squire's," Lady Linton reported to Van with a smile. "He'll be back later in the evening."
Van thought that it would be fine with her if he never returned.
She was playing the harpsichord for Lady Linton when he finally came in at about eight o'clock, and for some reason, she, who wouldn't notice if the house burned down around her, was instantly aware of his presence. She finished the piece and then turned around on her stool, suddenly wary.
He gave her a sunny smile. "Lovely," he said approvingly.
"Yes, it is a great treat to have such grand music all to oneself," Lady Linton agreed. "Did the squire give you a good dinner, darling?"
"The usual." His blue eyes laughed at her. "Mutton."
"Oh, dear," the countess said comically. "He is so predictable."
"I'm hunting with him tomorrow morning," the earl said. "I want to get Beau out over some fences, and I want to get the squire and the rest of the local landowners turned up sweet for the Quarter Session."
Lady Linton turned to Van. "Edward is lord lieutenant for the county," she explained kindly, "and he has been trying to work with the landowners to develop a relief policy for the rural poor."
"I see," Van replied quietly. Then, "It didn't seem to me that poverty was much of a problem here in Kent. The tenents' houses I saw today all looked very prosperous."
The cottages of the Staplehurst tenants had in fact looked like palaces in comparison to the poor dwellings of sod and heather and stone that housed large numbers of MacIan clansmen.
"Edward's tenants are never in
Van's heart began to pound. Her thin nostrils quivered. "And if I were?" she managed to ask.
The only sound for a long minute was the clip-clop of the horses' hooves on the path. Finally Van could stand it no longer and looked over at him. His gaze was full upon her, lazy now, mocking. "Well, now, if you were," he said softly, "then I should be most happy to introduce you to whomever you desired to see."
Van's hands involuntarily tightened on the reins and Mallow stopped. Marcus halted too and the two riders stared at each other, the air between them suddenly dense with tension.
"Why would you do that?" Van asked slowly.
"Because nothing would please me more than to. have an accurate reading of the English temper sent to Scotland," he replied. His eyes began to get very blue. "You live in a fog of romantic dreams up there," he said. "The Stuarts will never return to the throne of England. England does not want them. And those English Jacobites your father is so concerned about—oh, they still make sentimental toasts to the 'king over the water,' and all that rot, but if you think they will bestir themselves to aid a rebellion, you are much mistaken."
Van's narrowed eyes glittered between their long dark lashes. "I don't believe you."
"Whom do you want to see?" he asked coldly. "Altop? Stowcroft? Marston? Darby?"
They were all names given to her by her father. "Yes," Van said defiantly.
Marcus began to move forward and Gypsy followed. "Very well," the earl said, "when we reach London I shall arrange it."
Van's thoughts were a mass of alarmed confusion and she started when he reached over to put a hand on her arm. "My mother is to know nothing of this. And you and I are to be polite to each other. I will not have her pleasure spoiled by any Jacobite nonsense. Do you understand me, Van?"
Van's heart was thudding. For some reason, he could make her more furious than she ever remembered being in her life. "I understand you," she said through her teeth. "Edward."
"Good." Their eyes remained locked for a long minute and then he turned away. "Let's trot some more," he said abruptly, and the two horses moved forward in unison.
CHAPTER 6
Edward spent the afternoon at the stables and Van spent the afternoon with the dressmakers. She and Lady Linton were alone at dinner.
"Edward sent word he was taking potluck over at the squire's," Lady Linton reported to Van with a smile. "He'll be back later in the evening."
Van thought that it would be fine with her if he never returned.
She was playing the harpsichord for Lady Linton when he finally came in at about eight o'clock, and for some reason, she, who wouldn't notice if the house burned down around her, was instantly aware of his presence. She finished the piece and then turned around on her stool, suddenly wary.
He gave her a sunny smile. "Lovely," he said approvingly.
"Yes, it is a great treat to have such grand music all to oneself," Lady Linton agreed. "Did the squire give you a good dinner, darling?"
"The usual." His blue eyes laughed at her. "Mutton."
"Oh, dear," the countess said comically. "He is so predictable."
"I'm hunting with him tomorrow morning," the earl said. "I want to get Beau out over some fences, and I want to get the squire and the rest of the local landowners turned up sweet for the Quarter Session."
Lady Linton turned to Van. "Edward is lord lieutenant for the county," she explained kindly, "and he has been trying to work with the landowners to develop a relief policy for the rural poor."
"I see," Van replied quietly. Then, "It didn't seem to me that poverty was much of a problem here in Kent. The tenents' houses I saw today all looked very prosperous."
The cottages of the Staplehurst tenants had in fact looked like palaces in comparison to the poor dwellings of sod and heather and stone that housed large numbers of MacIan clansmen.
"Edward's tenants are never in
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