Mistress of Scandal (Greentree Sisters 3)

“Sometimes I think you have no more sense than one!”

“I’m glad you’re coming to London, too,” she said, and meant it. “I think my mother has plans for me. I know I can always rely on you to talk good sense.”

Lil smiled, her severe expression softening. “Thank you, miss, but I fear Lady Greentree…eh, Mrs. Jardine, has a great deal on her mind at the moment.”

It was true. These days her adoptive mother seemed to have much to contend with. Not that Amy wasn’t very happy in her everyday life, because she was. She and Mr. Jardine were still like newlyweds, although it was now three years since they had been married in the village church. Francesca often found herself smiling in their presence, if for no other reason than that their happiness was infectious. For so long Amy had mourned her husband, Sir Henry Greentree, and for so long Mr. Jardine, her secretary, had worshipped her in silence. Francesca had despaired of them ever overcoming the obstacles, but they had, and all because William Tremaine, Amy’s brother, had made a fuss about Mr. Jardine’s partiality for her. In trying to keep them apart—he didn’t consider Mr. Jardine good enough for a member of his family—he had actually brought them together.

But it wasn’t all happily-ever-after. William Tremaine had been being difficult ever since the engagement was announced. He’d refused to come to the wedding, and continued to treat Amy as if she were a naughty four-year-old instead of a grown woman with a mind of her own. Amy, although never one to be browbeaten by William, found it irritating to be at odds with her brother and the head of her family. Worse, she was well aware that her sister, Helen, was suffering. Helen craved harmony within her family—she had troubles of her own with her feckless husband, Toby—and living in London, she relied heavily on her brother William’s support. Recently there had been a marked increase in the tearstained letters arriving at Greentree Manor.

Francesca knew that Amy was quietly furious with William, and she had decided that enough was enough. For poor Helen’s sake, she was going to London to speak with her brother and settle the rift between them once and for all.

It promised to be a stormy visit, and Francesca hoped there would be no time for frivolous things like new clothes or balls or matchmaking. Amy didn’t seem to realize her youngest daughter was on the shelf and relieved to be there. That was the trouble with newlyweds; they thought everyone should be in love, and didn’t understand that some people were better off avoiding such excessive emotion.

She supposed she would just have to deal with London when they got there. But first there was the urgent matter of dinner with Mr. Sebastian Thorne.

“Lil,” she said. “I’ll be wearing my green wool to dinner. The sensible one. With the narrow lace collar.”

“The ugly green wool, do you mean, miss? The one that hangs on you like a sack?”

“Yes, Lil, exactly.”

Lil nodded, her mouth pursed, and Francesca could almost hear her thoughts: Very wise, miss.

Sebastian straightened his cuffs, giving them a good tug, but they still weren’t quite long enough. The jacket had belonged to Mrs. Jardine’s first husband, Sir Henry Greentree, and although it fit in width and length, Sir Henry’s arms were rather shorter than Sebastian’s. Still, it would have to do. The servants were dealing with his own clothing, he’d been told, and it would be returned to him as soon as possible.

The alternative was to skulk in his room, and he had no intention of doing that. He wanted to see Francesca again. Considering what he had been through, he felt reasonably fit and well. He’d bathed, eaten, and rested, and apart from a few bruises, he felt restored to almost new. He was looking forward to dinner with the Jardine family.

Sebastian couldn’t remember the last time he’d sat down with a respectable family. Usually, in houses like this, he would be let in the back door and asked to wait in some out-of-the-way corner until he was given his instructions. The master of the house would be loath to allow him close to his womenfolk, in case he contaminated them, and if he was introduced it was usually because the women had insisted on meeting the infamous Mr. Thorne. More than once, the wives of his clients had invited him back when their husbands were out. There was something very daring and exciting, evidently, in taking a man of his reputation to their beds. And who was he to argue?

It would be different here at Greentree Manor. For a start, no one knew who he was, and second, he had every intention of leaving as soon as possible. He had Hal to deal with. He should be on his way now. But for the first time in years, he didn’t seem able to concentrate on his job. For a man with such a fearsome reputation to maintain, his indifference should be worrying. But he didn’t care. His powerful hunting instinct was focused on Francesca Greentree.

She was a puzzle. Had he really looked into her eyes and seen that passionate woman lurking behind the proper façade? Someone as untamed as the storm they’d battled together? Had she really lit that spark deep within him…or was he completely delusional?

Well, he would soon find out.

With a final wry glance at his ill-fitting clothes, Sebastian made his way out of his room and down the stairs toward the drawing room he had been directed to earlier. Since he was naturally stealthy of foot, his hosts didn’t hear him approaching, and he was outside the door when he heard Mr. Jardine speak.

“If Mr. Thorne is a gentleman then I am a buccaneer!”

“My dear, he speaks like a gentleman.”

“That doesn’t make him one, Amy. Toby speaks like a gentleman, too, and look at him!”

“

Surely there’s no harm in offering him a place at our table after the terrible time he’s had? It is only charitable.”

“I know you always prefer to think well of people,” Mr. Jardine said musingly, “but I don’t entirely trust our Mr. Thorne. For goodness’ sake don’t let him inveigle his way into Francesca’s affections. He’s exactly the sort of man we don’t want her falling for.”

“Francesca is far too sensible to give her heart to Mr. Thorne,” Amy reproved him gently. “Besides, once we are in London, there will be any number of suitable gentlemen for her to choose from.”

Mr. Jardine made a doubtful sound. “My dear, don’t raise your hopes too high.”

“Well, I think I can raise them higher than Mr. Thorne!” Amy replied complacently. “After all, her sisters have done so well, and what have they that she has not? I’m certain that the reason she has not settled down yet is that there are so few eligible men here. In London it will be different.”

“My dear, I don’t think it is the lack of eligible men that—”

“I want to see her happily wed, is that so awful?”