The Beloved Scoundrel

CHAPTER 5

An army of servants moved about the oak-paneled dining room, deftly serving a meal that would have fed Marianna’s family for a year.

Jordan sat at the head of the long, gleaming table, dressed in pale gray and white, an elegant figure against the muted richness of the ancient tapestry on the wall behind him.

He casually spoke to Gregor.

He patiently listened to Alex’s excited chattering.

He was fastidiously courteous to Marianna.

And every time he glanced at her, she could think of nothing but that moment in the tower room.

She couldn’t wait to mutter her excuses and escape. She put Alex to bed, kissed him good night, and then fled up to the tower room as if she were being pursued.

She slammed the heavy door behind her.

Safe.

And cold. The wind whistled around the tower, rushing into the room through the open windows.

It didn’t matter. The cool air felt good against her hot cheeks. Perhaps she had a fever. Nonsense. She was never ill.

She looked around the now-furnished room. She lit the candles in the three tall black iron candelabras on the long table and drew out a large piece of paper from the stack also on the table.

She sat down on the stool and quickly began to sketch.

This panel must be nothing elaborate. Nothing that she would be unhappy to leave behind…

There was a light in the tower room.

She was there.

The leap of excitement Jordan felt was like a jolt of lightning. Christ, he hadn’t felt like this since his first time with a woman.

“You didn’t visit Madam Carruthers,” Gregor observed from behind him.

“No, I didn’t.” As he turned away from the study window, he added deliberately, “Nor do I intend to do so.” He waited for a reply.

There was none.

“No argument?”

“I have done all I can. You want Marianna? Take her. She is only a woman… well, not quite a woman. But what is that to you?”

Jordan turned back and looked again at the tower. “My mother gave birth to me when she was only a year older than Marianna.”

“Oh, you wish to get her with child?”

“No, I don’t wish to get her with child,” he said through his teeth. “I was just-”

“Defending your position. Why? When you will do what you wish anyway. At the dinner table you were sending out waves like a stallion after a mare in season. Only the mare is not in season.”

“The hell she’s not.” He whirled on him, his eyes glittering in the candlelight. “You’re wrong, Gregor. She’s ready for it.”

“Because she’s feeling the first stirrings of womanhood? Is that any reason to ruin her?”

“I would not-” He muttered a curse, turned on his heel, and stalked out of the study. It was ridiculous of Gregor to say that he would ruin the girl if he took her to his bed. She had no money or connections. What better life could she expect than the one he offered her? He could give her anything she needed. After she was persuaded to give him the Jedalar, he would set her up as his mistress. He would buy her a house of her own and lavish presents and attention on her. She would be well cared for in every way. She might be young, but he was experienced enough to know when a woman wanted him.

She had wanted him this afternoon in the tower room.

The knock on the door of the tower room was perfunctory. Jordan immediately opened the door. “May I come in?”

Marianna tensed. “No, I want to be alone, Your Grace.”

“Jordan.” He closed the door with a resounding click. “Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t turn back the clock because you wish it so.” He strolled toward her, his gaze on the large sheet of paper on which she’d been drawing. “What are you doing?”

“You wouldn’t understand.” She paused before adding deliberately, “Your Grace.”

“You said that once before.”

She remembered that first night when he had given her back the gift of her childhood when she had needed it most. She quickly banished the memory. She could expect no such gift tonight.

“I have a reasonable intelligence.” His smile lit his features with that curiously elusive charm. “If you explain slowly and clearly, I might possibly be able to comprehend, Marianna.”

Her name always sounded strange on his lips, dark and smooth and rippling as sun-warmed glass. She put her pen back in the holder. “I have to have a design before I can execute it in glass.”

“I can see that. You must be planning a very small panel.”

“It’s only the first sketch. My grandmother always said the first sketch was to let the heart run free. The second is done on an exact scale and dimension, and then thin pieces of card are pressed into each aperture on the sketch and then cut to shape. Then the cutline is added.”

“Cutline?”

“The tracing of the lead lines that forms the pattern from which the glass will be cut. I can see the design in the abstract and get a feel for the rhythm of the piece.”

“I agree rhythm is very important,” he said solemnly. “It’s one of my-”

“You said I’d be free to work,” she interrupted. “I can’t have you underfoot asking questions.”

“I’m not under your feet, I’m merely here.” He turned and walked to the window nearest him. “It’s cold as Hades in here. I’ll close the shutters.”

“No.”

He glanced inquiringly over his shoulder.

“I like the cold, it keeps me alert.”

“You mean awake.” He noted the circles under her eyes. “You’ve had a long day, and you’ve been up here for hours. Why don’t you go to bed?”

“I’m not tired,” she said. “Will you please go?”

He glanced around the room. “There are no comforts here. I’ll have a big chair and cushions brought up tomorrow.”

“I don’t need them. I come here to work. I had less than this in my workroom in Samda. I wouldn’t use your ‘comforts.’ ”

“But I will.” He prowled around the room, stopping now and then to glance out one of the eight windows. His tone became self-mocking. “I’m not accustomed to such Spartan surroundings. You can’t expect me to suffer both cold and discomfort. I couldn’t endure it. I’ve told you how spoiled and indulged I am.”

She had a sudden vision of him above her, holding her captive on the floor of the church, strong, primitive, completely different from the beautifully civilized man in this room. Then she felt the muscles of her stomach clench as she realized he was speaking as if this was not to be an isolated visit. “I expect nothing from you. Except that you leave me alone.”

He glanced at her over his shoulder. “But I can’t do that,” he said softly. “I suddenly find myself utterly fascinated by the craft of making stained glass. Since you won’t explain the process, then I must watch and learn for myself.”

She drew a deep breath and turned back to the table. “There’s no point in arguing with you when you’re too arrogant to pay attention to anyone’s needs but your own. I’d appreciate it if you would either leave or be silent.”

She could feel his gaze on her as she picked up her pen. Please God, let him leave.

He didn’t leave. She heard him move across the room but not in the direction of the door.

She ignored him, staring fixedly on the paper.

“Your hair is shining in the candlelight.”

She started a rosette in the upper corner of the design.

“But not as much as it did this afternoon. I’m not sure you were telling me the truth when you said you weren’t a pagan. When you stood in that pool of sunlight, you looked like an Egyptian priestess worshiping the sun god. You were almost in a trance. I remembered what you said about color serving the sunlight.” He paused. “You serve the sunlight, Marianna.”

His voice came from the darkness across the room, rich, disembodied, like a warm breath reaching out to her.

“I wanted to touch you. Do you know why I didn’t?”

Her hand was shaking. She steadied it and completed the rosette.

“Because I didn’t want you in a trance.” He laughed harshly. “No, that’s a lie. I don’t give a damn if you’re in a trance as long as I’m the one who cast the spell. I want to be that sun. I want to heat you and make you open to me.”

Heat was moving through her now, she realized helplessly.

“One should never neglect an opportunity because it’s not exactly what one wants. I should have taken what you offered and gathered up the rest later. I regretted it as soon as I left you. I regret it now.”

Her head lifted swiftly. “I made no offer.”

“No?” He was sitting on the floor beneath one of the windows, his legs crossed, as perfectly at ease as he had been in the forest and at the table tonight. His face was in the shadows beyond the pool of light cast by the candles, and she could see only a shimmer of green as he looked at her. “Think back on it.”

She didn’t want to remember that scene in this room this afternoon. She had been trying to forget that moment of bewildering weakness. She would forget it. “You’re disturbing me.”

“That’s my intention.”

She tried again. “I don’t want you to come here anymore. And I want a lock on the door.”

“I shall come here every day.” He paused. “And there will be no locks between us. Not ever.”

“Then I’ll ignore you,” she said desperately. “You’ll become very bored sitting there talking to yourself.”

“I won’t be bored. I enjoy looking at you. I promise I won’t bother you. I’ll sit here meekly absorbed in my own thoughts.” He smiled. “I’m sure you won’t mind if I share one with you on occasion?”

“I do mind,” she said fiercely.

“How unfortunate. But I really think you must tolerate my small demands when I’m showing such restraint and consideration in the larger ones. I never wanted this, but it’s here, and we must both admit it.”

“I will not admit to something I do not feel.”

“You will… in time.”

She turned back to the table and began to trace in the border. Ignore him. He is not here. The work is the only thing of importance. He is not here.

He was there. Silent. Tense. Compelling.

She could not bear it.

The border was blurring before her eyes.

“For God’s sake stop weeping,” he said harshly. “I won’t have it!”

Tears were running down her cheeks. “It’s the smoke from the candles.” She wiped her eyes on the back of her hands. “And you have nothing to say about it.” She dipped her pen in the inkwell again. “If you don’t like it, go away.”

“I don’t like it.” He was suddenly kneeling before her on the floor. He took the pen from her hand and jammed it into the inkwell. “And I won’t go away, and I won’t have you-” He pulled her from the chair, to kneel in front of him. He shook her. “Stop it!”

The tears wouldn’t stop; they were only coming faster. “Do you think I wish to-” She broke off as a sob choked her. “I hate this place! It’s huge and it’s dark and there are too many people.”

“Oh, for God’s sake.” He jerked her into his arms, his hand cupping the back of her head as he held her face against his shoulder.

“Let me go.”

“Be quiet.”

“I want to leave here. They… they curtsy to me.”

“A terrible sin. I shall have it stopped at once.”

“You’re laughing at me.”

His voice was hoarse. “Believe me, I see nothing at all funny about this.”

She discovered she was clinging to him as Alex did to her when he woke from a bad dream. She tried to push him away, but his arms tightened around her. “Stop fighting me. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Yes, you will. You want to hurt me like those men hurt Mama.”

“It would be nothing like that. You’d like it. I promise you’d like it.” He stroked her hair for a moment before adding resignedly, “Or rather, you would have liked it.”

“I wouldn’t have liked it. You make me feel… strange and hot… and…”

“Shh, it’s better if we don’t discuss how I make you feel at the moment.” He took a lace-trimmed handkerchief from his sleeve and dabbed at her cheeks. “And absolutely imperative that we don’t discuss how I feel.”

She drew a deep, shaky breath and pushed away from him. “I will not do… what you… that.”

“No, you won’t.” He handed her the handkerchief. “Blow your nose.”

She looked at the fine linen square and shook her head.

“Do it,” he ordered. “By God, I’ll at least have my way in this.”

She blew her nose and immediately felt much better.

He rose to his feet and lifted her back onto her chair. “Work for another hour and no more.” He turned toward the door. “And sleep late tomorrow.”

He was leaving, she realized in astonishment. “I never sleep late.”

“You will tomorrow.” He glanced back to her. “Or I’ll carry you back to your bed.”

“I wouldn’t let you do-” She stopped as she met his gaze.

“Don’t,” he said softly. “Gregor says it’s necessary I walk a fine line, but I’m not sure it’s possible if you’re not equally cautious. It will take time and restraint.” He opened the door, and the draft caused the candles to flicker. “We have the former, but Gregor will tell you how lacking I am in the latter.”

Nothing could look less restrained than Jordan at the moment. His muscles were tensed, and his eyes glittered recklessly in the candlelight. “Where… where are you going?”

“I’m going to pay a visit to a lady of my acquaintance. Would you like me to tell you what we’re going to do?”

She knew what he was going to do. She could almost visualize him lying in bed, his hair loosened from his queue, his eyes intent as he- “No!”

“I wouldn’t have done so anyway. It would have been a shocking breach in conduct for a guardian.” He swung the door shut. “Good night, Marianna.”

Gregor was leaning against the stone wall beside the stable doors when Jordan rode out into the courtyard.

“I don’t want to hear a word from you,” Jordan said shortly.

Gregor ignored the injunction. “She wasn’t ready.”

“No.” He looked straight ahead. “She wept, goddammit.”

“Ah, you’ve never made a woman weep before.”

“It made me feel- I hated it.” He glowered at him. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you’d taught her to say exactly the right words to bring about the result you wished.”

“I did not have to do that. She had only to be herself. Where are you going?”

“Do you need to ask?”

He kicked the stallion and galloped out the gates.

Gregor gave a sigh of relief as he looked up at the tower. “It was very close, little dove,” he murmured. In all the years he had been with Jordan, he had never seen him in such a passion for a woman. Jordan had learned to control his unruly nature in many areas, but he was still Ana’s son, and the forbidden had always glowed like a beacon for both of them.

Well, Jordan himself had made the decision to avoid this particular forbidden fruit, so it might be possible that Marianna was safe from him.

He could only wait and see.

Ah, you’re down early,” Gregor said as Marianna came down the stairs. “That is good.”

“It is?” Nothing could have kept her from disobeying Jordan’s command to sleep late today. Only minutes after he had left the tower room, she had been overcome by shame and anger at the disgusting weakness she had shown. “Not that early. I’m usually up before first light.”

“What a terrible habit. I myself prefer to sleep late when I get the chance.”

“Then why are you up?” she asked with assumed casualness, “and where is Jordan?”

“He is not here.” He paused as if debating whether to elaborate. “He went to visit Madam Carruthers. She is an old friend.”

He had spent the night in that woman’s bed and was still with her. Something hot and hurtful twisted inside Marianna. It was not anger, she told herself. There was no reason for her to be angry.

Gregor took her hand and led her toward the dining room. “I’m sure he will return shortly.”

Perhaps it was anger, but only for the sake of that poor woman whom Jordan was using to vent his lust.

She would think no more about him. “Why are you up?” she repeated.

“I wished to make sure you were comfortable.”

Warmth flooded her at his kindness. “As comfortable as I could be in this place.”

“I was uncomfortable here, too, when I first came.” Gregor seated her at the long table and then sat down beside her. “There is nothing this grand in Kazan. We live very simply there.” He sighed. “How I miss it.”

“Why did you come here?”

“To take care of Jordan.”

“He hired you to act as guard?”

“No, I was not hired. I just came.” He saw her curious expression and shook his head. “I told you I could not tell you about Kazan. All I can say is that Jordan is part of all of us in Kazan. We do not like to see a part of us rot and become less than it could be. That is why I came to care for him.”

She looked down at her plate. “He seems quite able to care for himself.”

He laughed. “Ah, he did then too. He was only a boy of nineteen but as cynical as a man of thirty. It wasn’t surprising when everyone treated him as if the world and everything in it had been created for his enjoyment. I’ve never seen a lad so spoiled.” He grimaced. “Or so hot-tempered. We had many a match before we came to terms.”

“His terms or your terms?”

“Why, my terms,” he said, surprised. “It could be no other way. He had to be taught discipline, or he would have remained impossible.”

He was still impossible. “It must have been very unpleasant for you. I wonder that you stayed.”

“It was not all bad. Jordan can coax the birds to fly to him when he wishes.”

“And it made up for the bad times?”

He nodded. “When he was himself and not what they made him, he was a boy to warm the heart.” He nodded at the cup in front of her. “I don’t wish you to eat breakfast this morning, but you must have nourishment. Drink. It is chocolate.”

“Chocolate?” She reached for the cup. “I’ve never had it. Papa said it’s wonderful.”

“It’s a beverage made in paradise.”

She sipped it tentatively and then more deeply. “I like it.”

“As do I.” He drained his cup and gestured to the servant to refill it. “I have a taste for anything dark and uncommon.”

“Then it’s no wonder you have a fondness for Jordan,” she said dryly. “For he is both.”

“You’re still angry with him? Actually, for Jordan, he is behaving toward you with singular virtue.” He lifted the chocolate to his lips. “But you must help him.”

“I have no intention of helping him in any way. I’m here to work and care for Alex.”

“That will help. The less he sees of you, the better.” He paused. “And, when he does see you, offer no challenge. Be as eager and childlike as Alex.”

“I cannot pretend to be something I’m not.”

“It would be easier for you if you could.” He sighed resignedly as he saw her expression. “Oh, very well, do what you will. I will try to stand between you.”

“Thank you.” She reached out and patted his big hand. “I need no one to protect me, but it is a kind and generous thought.”

“I like you,” he said simply. “And even if I did not, I would still do it. It is my duty. Such a thing would not be good for Jordan either.” He looked down into the depths of his cup. “I was sent not only to protect his body but his soul.”

“I believe you should concentrate on protecting his body,” she said tartly. “I’ve seen no sign of this elusive soul.”

“I have,” he said quietly. “I’ve seen him weep at the death of a child, and I’ve been with him when he carried a wounded man on his back for twenty miles across the steppes. I’ve seen him writhing with an inner hurt so terrible, he did not say a word for days. He does not show his soul, but it is there.” He smiled. “And we must make sure he does not harm it by actions he cannot forgive himself. Finish your chocolate.”

She obediently drained her cup and set it down.

He reached over and gently wiped her mouth with his napkin. “Paradise leaves an occasional mark upon those who taste its pleasures.” He stood up. “Now we go to the stables.”

She shook her head. “I’m going to my workroom.”

“Not today. Today you and Alex have riding lessons. That’s why I didn’t want you to have a full stomach.”

She frowned. “I’ll do that another day.”

“Today. And tomorrow you have dancing lessons, and the day after you and Alex will have schooling with the vicar.”

“I will not.”

“Yes, you will. It will keep you out of sight and away from Jordan.”

She glowered at him. “I will not hide from Jordan even to save his precious soul. If you want me out of his sight, let me work.”

“I would never think of depriving you of your work. I have it all planned. After today you will work from dawn until noon. The light should be better in the morning.” He beamed. “That leaves all the afternoon free.”

“I don’t need dancing lessons, and Papa said that the education he gave me was better than most gentlemen received at-”

“Then you will surprise and delight the vicar.” Gregor pushed her toward the door. “But you cannot deny you need to learn to ride.”

“No, but I-” She stopped as she met his gaze. She suddenly realized how he had managed to overcome the wild, decadent hellion who had been young Jordan Draken. Gregor’s expression was kindly but absolutely relentless. She said faintly, “I do need to work.”

“After your lesson.” He added, “And your hot bath. You’re likely to be quite sore at first. Now, we must get you proper riding clothes. Perhaps there is something you can use in the armoire…”

His Grace would like to see you, miss.” Mrs. Jenson shivered in the doorway as a blast of wind poured into the tower room. “He requests your presence in the courtyard.”

Marianna felt her muscles tense, and she looked back at her sketch. “Tell His Grace I’m busy at present.”

Mrs. Jenson was scandalized. “He said at once, miss. He wishes to bid you good-bye before he leaves.”

Her head lifted swiftly. “He’s leaving? Where is he going?”

“To London, I understand.” She shivered again and drew her shawl closer about her. “You should close those shutters. You’ll catch your death in this cold.”

“I like it,” she said abstractedly. He was leaving. She had been scrupulously avoiding Jordan for the last week, and now it would no longer be necessary. She should feel relief, not this strange flatness. “Is Gregor going with him?”

“I’m sure I don’t know.” Mrs. Jenson added reprovingly, “You’re keeping His Grace waiting.”

And that must never happen, Marianna thought. Mrs. Jenson was completely under Jordan’s spell and thought everything must be exactly as he decreed. She was not alone. Marianna had found that everyone at Cambaron held him in an affection that amounted almost to adulation. It was hard to comprehend considering Gregor’s comments on the duke’s character as a youth.

She put her pen back in the inkwell and stood up. “By all means, we must not cause him to tarry even a minute longer than necessary.”

Mrs. Jenson smiled and started to curtsy. She stopped in midmotion and frowned in distress. “I do beg pardon, miss. You must think me a stupid old woman.”

Jordan had evidently spoken to her after that first night in the tower, for the housekeeper had been attempting to stop the habit ingrained by a lifetime. She failed as often as not, and Marianna was fervently sorry she had blurted out those words to Jordan. She sighed. “It truly doesn’t matter, Mrs. Jenson. Do as you wish.”

“It does matter. His Grace will be very displeased with me.”

“I will speak to him.” She stood up and moved to the door. “It was only that I was unused to such a response. I’ve grown accustomed to it now.”

It was a lie. She was still nearly as awkward in these surroundings as when she had come. She was not like Alex, who had adapted wonderfully and was happier than she had ever seen him. Why should he not be happy? He had lost everything and then was brought to Cambaron with a bevy of servants eager to cosset and amuse him and a playground a prince might envy. She would have to take care he was not thoroughly spoiled while he was here. When it was time for them to leave, she would not be able to give him anything more splendid than the gamekeeper’s cottage.

Jordan stood waiting beside a light phaeton harnessed to two magnificent bays. “You took your time.” He motioned to the stable boy to hold the horses and took her arm. “Walk with me.”

She immediately tensed, and he smiled sardonically. “Don’t be afraid. I don’t intend to attempt you here in the courtyard in full view of the servants.” He drew her away from the phaeton and walked toward the fountain in the center of the courtyard.

“I’m not afraid. I just don’t like to be touched.”

“A laudable attitude for a young virgin,” he said. “If I wasn’t your guardian, I might argue with you. I’ve noticed signs you could like it very much.” His grip tightened as she tried to pull away. “But since I’ve decided that’s my present lot in life, I’ll make no such remark.”

She snorted.

He smiled. “Do you know I’ll actually miss that less than elegant sound? The ladies in London would swoon rather than-”

“I don’t care what the ladies in London do. According to Gregor, they do nothing but paint teacups and worry about what gown to wear.”

“Oh, they can be persuaded to venture into slightly less shallow waters on occasion.”

“Like Madam Carruthers?” She had not meant to blurt that out.

His smile faded. “Gregor has been less than discreet.”

“He only mentioned…” She tried to shrug carelessly. “You spent two days there.”

“Laura is a lonely woman. She was widowed after only three years of marriage and likes company.”

“You don’t have to make explanations to me. Papa told me it’s the custom for gentlemen in England to take mistresses.”

His lips thinned. “Then Papa is as indiscreet as Gregor.”

“Papa believed both speech and spirit should be free, and one should not be concerned with what others think.”

“Good God, if you hadn’t already told me he was a poet, I’d have guessed it by that singular bit of philosophy. And do you believe the spirit should be free?”

“Of course, don’t you?”

“What I believe is not necessarily safe for you. Laura is not my mistress. We merely amuse each other.” He paused. “I will explain the status of mistress to you at a later time.”

The air was suddenly heavy and hard to breathe. “I’m not interested in your mistresses or this-”

“Good, for I refuse to discuss them further with you.” He leaned against the rim of the fountain. “It’s indelicate for a young virgin to-”

“Will you stop calling me that!”

“I have to keep reminding myself. Gregor will tell you that I have a poor memory when it suits my convenience.” He looked down at the water. “Actually, it does little good in this case. I don’t care a whit whether you’re a virgin or not. In fact, it makes the prospect of teaching you pleasure all the more appealing.”

Heat flooded her face. “Mrs. Jenson said you wished to bid me good-bye. Good-bye, Your Grace.”

“I had a few other things to discuss.” He lifted his gaze from the water. “I want you.”

Shock tore through her. She had not expected that stark, raw sentence. “You want only a woman to sate your lust. Go back to Mrs. Carruthers.”

“I assure you I shall, and many other women besides. I have no desire to have this passion for a stubborn chit who may someday prove to be my enemy. I have the greatest hopes this may be a temporary madness.” He looked into her eyes. “I’m trying to be honest with you in this so you will trust what I say now.” He paused. “I also… like… and admire you. I believe, in time, it’s possible we may be friends.”

She stared at him in astonishment.

“For God’s sake, why do you think you weren’t in my bed on the Seastorm?” he burst out. “You bound me, and you did the same in the tower.”

“I did nothing to you.”

“You bound me,” he repeated through his teeth. “And I have no liking for it.” He drew a deep breath, and then his expression changed and became mocking. “But I’ve accepted it and now must try to wrest something from the situation.”

“What?”

“We will become friends.”

She shook her head doubtfully.

“I repeat, we will become friends.”

His tone was so grim, she found herself smiling. “Or you’ll cut off my head?”

“That’s not the alternative I had in mind.” He turned and strode back toward the phaeton. “That’s all I had to say. I thought you should have time to become used to the idea before I return from London.”

She trailed behind him, staring in bemusement at the straight line of his back. “When will that be?”

“Within two weeks.”

She said with irony, “How kind of you to give me such a long time. Your patience is truly astonishing.”

“I never claimed to be patient. I prefer things done yesterday.” He stepped into the phaeton and took up the reins. “I’m sure you have enough to keep you occupied while I’m gone, and I’m leaving Gregor here to amuse you.”

She was careful not to reveal her relief. “Amuse me or guard me?”

“I’m not worried about you running away. You have too much to lose at present. You have no money, and you wouldn’t cast Alex back into the same situation you faced in Montavia. I assure you, England can be just as cruel to the poor.”

He was echoing every fear she had held since she had decided to come to this country. “I will stay here only as long as I wish.”

“Then we must make sure you wish to stay here until both our purposes are accomplished.”

The Jedalar.

He met her gaze and nodded. “You could agree to give it to me,” he said softly. “We could work together. It would be a good deal easier for you.”

“No, it wouldn’t. That would be true only if our goals were the same.” She started up the steps. “Good journey.”

“Your chaperon will arrive this afternoon,” he called after her.

She turned to look at him. “Chaperon?”

“Gregor suggested we hire a maid to act as your abigail, but I decided we need a more intimidating barrier between us.” He grimaced. “As I find no one more intimidating than Cousin Dorothy, I sent for her.”

“I will not have a chaperon. Merciful heavens, aren’t there enough people at Cambaron?”

“You will think there are when Cousin Dorothy arrives.” He snapped the reins, and the horses sprang forward. “Good luck.”

“Cousin Dorothy?” Gregor was coming down the steps toward her. “What is this about Cousin Dorothy?”

She watched Jordan drive through the gates. “She is coming here to be my chaperon. He sent for her. Who is Cousin Dorothy?”

“Lady Dorothy Kinmar of Dorchester. Jordan’s second cousin.” A sudden smile lit his face. “This is good. Jordan has always found her a very difficult woman.”

“It is not good. I don’t need a chaperon. Why won’t anyone listen to me? All I want to do is work.”

“No one needs a chaperon as much as you, and Cousin Dorothy will do splendidly.” He patted her shoulder. “Do not worry. I think you will like her. She has a tongue like an asp but a kind heart. She also has great learning for a woman. They call her a…” He frowned, searching for the word. “Bluestocking.”

“I don’t care what they call her. When she gets here, send her home.”

He shook his head. “If you want it done, do it yourself.” He grinned. “But be sure I’m here to see it. It should be very interesting.”