Anne Barbour (14 page)

“I thought you said you were against Winifred’s scheme to go on the stage.”

“I am, but the play is giving her a temporary outlet for her desires, and aside from that, it’s providing entertainment for the rather large group of persons we seem to be accumulating.

“That brings me to another point, Miss Burch. If—

“I thought we were going to call each other Simon and Jane,” said Jane innocently.

“All right. Jane, why do you continue to plot against me?”

“I beg your pardon?” asked Jane, her gaze wide with astonishment.

Good God, thought Simon dazedly, it was happening again. He was falling into her damned storm-colored eyes. He took a deep breath. “I beg your pardon. I did not mean to sound so—so melodramatic. It’s just that you seem bent on thwarting my wishes at every turn.”

She turned on him a look of such puzzled sweetness that he was torn between wanting to throttle her and a desperate need to take her in his arms.

“I beg your pardon?” she repeated stiffly.

“I have told you that I do not wish Marcus and Winifred to become—become entangled, and you persist in trying to bring them together.”

“I have not!” Her voice rose in indignation. “At least, not recently. Particularly since Lissa arrived. Although I must say I think your sister is behaving very foolishly.”

Since this statement coincided precisely with Simon’s own analysis of Lissa’s behavior, he was momentarily at a loss for words. This perhaps accounted for his decision to take some sort of action instead. He moved closer to Jane, whereupon he found that her scent was making him dizzy. This perhaps accounted for his reaching for her to steady himself.

The next moment, he caught her in his arms and pressed his mouth on hers with an urgency that astonished and appalled him.

“Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind: And therefore is wing’d Cupid painted blind.”
—A Midsummer Night’s Dream,
I, i

When Simon grasped her shoulders and pulled her toward him, Jane’s initial response was a startled gasp. At the first touch of his lips on hers, however, she was overwhelmed by the unfamiliar and totally delicious sensations that swept over her. When his arms tightened about her, she was intensely aware of the feel of his body against her own, and she fancied that it was his heartbeat that thundered in her ears. She was also dimly conscious that only a large plant prevented them from being seen by the group at the far end of the room.

The kiss was over as swiftly as it had begun, for just as Jane’s lips opened involuntarily beneath his, Simon jerked away from her. For a moment, he simply stood, gazing at her, his hands still on her shoulders, and to Jane it seemed as though his gold-touched brown eyes were drawing her into his innermost self. She stared back at him.

“Why did you do that?” she blurted.

“I have no idea,” he growled, “but I apologize.” He released her and stepped back. “You’re enough to drive a man insane, do you know that?”

Jane did not know what she had expected him to say, but the unexpected bitterness in his tone hurt and infuriated her. She stiffened. “If a little plain speaking causes you to behave—” she began, but fell silent at the sound of Winifred’s chiming laughter issuing from what seemed like a great distance away. Lord, she and Simon would be missed from the group at any moment. She pulled away from him. “If you will excuse me, my lord.” Turning, she fled precipitously from the dangerous intimacy of the little alcove.

Simon followed a few moments later, more shaken by the brief contact than he would have believed. Good God, what had possessed him to behave in such a manner? And toward a woman he could barely tolerate.

Barely tolerate? His mind careened back to the moment when he had stepped so close to her that her fragrance had temporarily robbed him of reason. It came as a distinct shock to him to realize that he had been wanting to kiss Jane Burch for some time now, to feel the softness of her lips against his own and to hold her lithe suppleness in his arms. It had taken everything in him to break away from her after that brief embrace, for he had wanted so much more. He wanted to bury his face in her silky cap of curls. He wanted to press heated kisses from her eyebrows to the base of her throat. He wanted ...

He shook himself. Never mind what it was he wanted. He must concentrate on what he was going to do, which was to avoid any further encounters in secluded nooks with the delectable Miss Burch. She was not the sort of woman with whom a man could indulge in dalliance, even if he were given to that kind of thing. She was the sort of woman who could make a man’s life a living hell if given half a chance, with her incessant meddling and her boundless assurance that she knew what was best for everyone with whom she came in contact. He was strongly of the opinion that Winifred and Charles would be well on the way to a serious courtship by now if it were not for her interference.

He moved slowly out from behind the plant and watched Jane from a distance as she conversed with Lissa. She was still rosy from their encounter and his throat tightened at the remembered feel of her. He sighed. The last thing he needed was to become involved with a willful termagant, no matter how enticing. Although, if he were honest with himself, he’d have to admit that he even enjoyed his confrontations with her. But no more of that. The house was full of people. Surely, he could manage to stay out of her way.

For the next few days, he was able to keep to his resolution. He became increasingly absorbed in the running of Selworth, and as far as he could tell, all was proceeding fairly smoothly in the house. He saw little of Jane, and he suspected she was avoiding him as well. This notion did not give him the satisfaction he might have expected. He noted that Winifred and Charles were spending more time in each other’s company. Lissa was apparently maintaining her sweetness of temper with Marc, so he had hopes that all was well in that quarter.

These pleasant expectations received a severe setback one morning when he happened upon the two in the orangery, where they had apparently stolen for a few moments of privacy.

“But you promised, Marc!” Lissa’s voice was high with indignation.

“I did no such thing, Lissa,” replied Marc, his obvious anger barely held in check. “It was you who arbitrarily decided that I should relinquish the role of Oberon.”

“Well—I just assumed you would not have any objections,” she said with what she no doubt knew was a perfectly adorable pout. Simon sighed in exasperation as he approached them.

“Now what are you two brangling about?” he asked.

In unison, they swung toward him, each speaking at once.

“Lissa is being an unreasonable little twit,” said Marcus.

“Marc is being a perfect beast,” said Lissa.

Simon’s first impulse was to turn and leave the hapless lovers to their own devices, but his conscience held him in place. Or rather, it was his lively fear that Diana and Jared would blame him for the rift in Lissa and Marc’s lute which prompted him to set the pair back on the course of true love.

“Now, then,” he said, at his most paternal, “just what seems to be the problem?”

“There is no problem,” Marc responded stiffly. “It is merely that your sister believes me incapable of running my own life.”

Lissa gasped. “That’s not true! I merely asked him to do a small thing for me, and—

“Small thing! You want me to give up a harmless activity that is bringing me a great deal of pleasure, all because you have jumped to an utterly false conclusion.”

“It is not I who am jumping to false conclusions. You spend every waking minute with that overblown siren. Why, this is the first time you’ve condescended to give me a moment since I arrived!”

“That’s not true. It’s just that every time you want to talk to me, it’s about my shortcomings, and if you want to know the truth, I’m getting a little tired of it.”

Simon, raising his hand, said in a tone of great reasonableness, “Now, Marc, just stop and think a moment. Lissa may have reason for her, er, unhappiness with your behavior. After receiving news that you left your home with very little explanation, she arrives here to find you in the company—the constant company—of a very beautiful woman. Naturally— “

He was interrupted as Lissa clutched at his sleeve. “Are you implying that I am jealous of that mannerless hoyden?” she hissed.

“Of course not,” responded Simon hastily. “Now, on the other hand, Marc has told you that he has no interest in Winifred beyond that of partner in a stage production. I believe him, and I think you should, too.”

At this, Lissa swelled visibly and her eyes turned to molten pitch. “Men!” she said in accents heavy with loathing. “You are all alike and you all hang together. Well, I wish you joy of each other’s company.” She turned on her heel, but whirled again for a parting shot. “And as for you, Mister King of the Fairies, I hope you fall off your mushroom and break your neck!”

With this she swept out of the orangery, and Simon would have been ready to swear she left a trail of blue smoke in her wake.

After a long silence, Marc turned to Simon. “Well, you certainly handled that well. With your skill and understanding of human nature, it is no wonder you have made such a success in the world of diplomacy.” With which piece of withering sarcasm, he bowed and left the room, leaving Simon to curse his unwonted ineptitude.

For the next week, events continued on a fairly even keel, at least on the surface. Rehearsals for A Midsummer Night’s Dream continued apace, and Simon took comfort in the fact that, in his role of Lysander, he had few lines to learn and was called on to spend little time on stage. Winifred continued to encourage the attentions of Charles and Harry and Gerard with equal good will. She could not be said to actually flirt with Marc, but her admiration for his acting and acrobatic abilities apparently knew no bounds. As for Marc and Lissa, they might have been two planets spinning in different orbits, each unknowing and uncaring of the existence of the other. Jane Burch, he noted with dissatisfaction, might have resided in a different galaxy altogether. To his dismay, he found himself looking forward to the rehearsals because they provided opportunities to see her.

Simon had been eminently correct in his assumption that Jane was avoiding him. She quickly learned his routine and made it her business to carry out her own duties wherever he wasn’t. She was dismayed to discover that she missed him. How could one possibly miss a man whom one disliked intensely? she wondered in some irritation. The fact that she had experienced such a shattering response to his kiss merely infuriated her further. Her reaction certainly proved, she told herself, that anyone could fall victim to a handsome face and a lean, taut body. It was not long, however, before she was forced to admit that it was more than Simon’s physical attributes that drew her toward him. Irritating as she might find his methods, she could appreciate his concern over those near and dear to him. In addition, their confrontations exhilarated her. A verbal bout with Lord Simon left her feeling as though she’d been drinking champagne—invigorated and slightly giddy.

A warning voice inside her head told her that enjoyment of his company might be far more dangerous than a simple physical attraction. Thus, she kept scrupulously to her plan of playing least-in-sight where Simon Talent was concerned.

She found herself spending more and more time with Lady Teague, whose combination of lighthearted nonsense and basic common sense greatly appealed to her. Often she would visit the older woman in her chambers, where she busily plied her needle. It was apparent that making the costumes for the play was greatly to her liking. “For,” she said earnestly one morning after breakfast, “I am used to being busy at Stonefield. When Jared, Simon’s brother, married Diana—she’s Marcus’s sister, you know—Diana took over my chores as chatelaine of the place, but now that she has a babe, and another on the way, her time is mostly taken up with maternal duties. She is such a love, you know.”

Jane hesitated. “I expect Lord Simon is much missed at Stonefield,” she said after a moment.

“Gracious, yes. It was hard to say good-bye to him again. It seems he was always leaving. The time he was at Waterloo was the worst, of course.”

“Waterloo,” murmured Jane, and felt a fluttering in the pit of her stomach at the dangers he had survived and the horrors he must have witnessed.

“Yes,” said Lady Teague quietly. “We hoped he would stay when he returned at last from the war, but he became restless at Stonefield after he sold out, and at that time, he had no home of his own. When he was offered a position on Castlereagh’s staff— it was a very junior position, but it promised better things—he snatched it up, and it was nearly three years before we saw him again.”

“But now he has returned for good,” said Jane.

“Well, as to that,” replied Lady Teague with a laugh, “he says he longs for peace and quiet, but—well, he has retained his connections with Castlereagh’s people, and has promised to take on tasks as needed. However, I believe he intends to reside at Ash-wood. He seems to have great plans for the place.”

Jane’s heart sank, a response for which she instantly chided herself. It mattered not to her when Simon left to take up his life—and his search for a biddable wife. She had known when they met that their acquaintance would be brief, and that was, after all, the way she preferred it. The sooner she could get on with her own plans for Winifred, the better. She rose and smiled at Lady Teague. “I’ve enjoyed our coze, my lady, as always, but I must leave now. I promised Mrs. Rudge I would go over the week’s menus with her. Goodness, when the poor woman signed on with us as housekeeper, she had no idea she’d be catering to such a houseful.”

The older woman smiled apologetically. “I fear we have set your household at sixes and sevens.”

“Nonsense,” said Jane stoutly, pausing to give the plump little woman a quick hug. “Winifred and I were expiring of boredom before you all came. In addition, if Simon had not caused all of you to come here, I would never have had the opportunity to meet you, my lady, and that would be a shame.”