The Earl's Marriage Bargain (Liberated Ladies)

‘Jane, dearest girl!’ Cousin Violet surged down the path leading to her front gate, arms flung wide, bosom breasting the breeze, like a ship running before a high wind. She was a lady designed on genero

us lines by nature, with a personality that matched her figure.

Jane was enveloped in an enthusiastic embrace and breathed in the familiar Violet scent of chocolate, jasmine and face powder.

‘You have been a very naughty girl and I am selfishly delighted, because it means I will have your company. Your mama wrote that I should chastise you, so consider yourself thoroughly scolded and then we can forget all about it and enjoy ourselves.’ Violet turned to lead Jane back down the garden path between rose bushes and mounds of lavender as generously proportioned as she was. Billows of scent rose around them. ‘Do mind the bees. I should have Tomlin cut it all back, but I do not have the heart.’

‘I should think not, it is wonderful.’

Violet always referred to her house as a cottage. In fact, it was a late seventeenth-century house of three storeys built of mellow Bath stone and set back from the High Street behind the front garden. There was a walled back garden and a yard behind that with stables, reached by circuitous lanes.

‘Where is your maid? Has she gone around to the back with the post chaise? Your mama wrote that she was sending her woman with you. Trilling, was it? It cannot be Cooing, I refuse to believe that.’

‘Billing—and she neither trills nor coos. I sent her back shortly after Kensington. I have to confess to an adventure, Cousin Violet. A very small one,’ she added hastily as Violet turned to regard her with wide brown eyes full of speculation.

‘A man?’

‘Er...yes. A gentleman, of course.’

‘My dear! Tell me all. Are you in love with him?’ Violet swept on through the front door, Jane behind her like a skiff towed by a galleon, she thought wildly.

‘No! Not at all. He is infuriating, not at all handsome and far above my touch. I have to confess to missing him already, though. Much as one does a tooth after it has been pulled,’ she added after a moment’s thought.

And she was faintly worried as well. Ivo had seemed strong and fit and able to cope with the after-effects of the beating and stabbing, but men were proud, devious creatures and more than capable of lying about their health. He would not be pleased to discover that she had tricked him, but she hoped he had slept long enough for him to realise that pursuit was futile and would take himself home at a steady pace.

‘Come and sit down and we will take tea.’ Violet ushered her into the front parlour. ‘The girls put the kettle to the fire the moment we saw your chaise. Now, sit there, take off that bonnet and tell me everything.’

Jane did as she asked, around mouthfuls of tea and delicious cakes. Almost everything: she omitted the arguments about her proposed career as a portraitist—she would have to decide what to tell Violet about that and when—and for some reason she did not feel able to talk about that kiss.

‘So, you have travelled all the way from Newbury today? Alone?’

‘Yes. I have to confess I would not wish to stay at an inn by myself, because I did receive some impudent stares from a few men when I went into places to take refreshment or use the necessary along the way. But I gave them a very haughty look and they did not trouble me further.’

‘And so your mystery man does not know where you have vanished to? It sounds as though you were exceedingly fortunate in the person you chose to rescue so recklessly, for his behaviour seems most gentlemanly.’

‘I told him I was coming to you so that he would not worry. He is an aristocrat and an army officer. Or he was,’ Jane confessed. ‘But even if he had proved to be a street sweeper, I could not have left him to be beaten to death, now could I?’

‘Your parents would doubtless say that you should have fetched a constable.’

‘By which time he could have been dreadfully injured!’

‘I agree,’ Violet said warmly. ‘There are times when a lady must act. But you spent two nights with him...’

‘I spent two nights in the same inn as he did,’ Jane corrected. ‘Not with him. And no one but the three of us knows. I wrote to Mama and Papa explaining that I was not kidnapped or eloping or in any danger and I gave them the impression that after I rescued Iv...the gentleman, I continued on my way alone having left him at an inn in the care of a doctor. I must write now and tell them I am safely arrived with you.’

‘No, I will write,’ Violet declared. ‘Then they will be certain you are not being constrained to write by your dastardly kidnapper.’ She selected a small biscuit and nibbled it daintily, watching Jane as she did so. ‘Are you quite certain you have not fallen for this man? You would tell me if he did anything for which he should be called to account, I hope.’

‘I am positive I have not fallen for him.’ Wanting him to kiss her again and feeling a strange little ache inside when she remembered the smile in those deep blue eyes did not amount to falling, she was sure. ‘And he most certainly did nothing to make me feel at all uneasy in his presence. I confess to feeling a strong desire to box his ears on occasion, I must admit, but that was because of his stuffy attitudes.’

Which makes it all the stranger that I wish he was here to talk to.

‘Excellent. Then I can write with a clear conscience to set Cousin Mildred’s mind at rest. I will do that now and then the letter will be ready for the evening Mail.’ She reached out and tugged the bell pull. ‘Dorothy will show you your room and unpack for you and you can rest after your journey. Then we can make our plans.’ She beamed at Jane. ‘Mildred said you can stay for weeks—I am so looking forward to it.’

Jane smiled back. Cousin Violet was a dear and she felt like a sister because she was so warm and understanding. The youngest daughter of Mama’s youngest sister, she was only fifteen years older than Jane. The temptation to tell her everything—the sudden revelation that she could create a studio and shop in Bath and paint professionally, the unsettling effect Ivo had on her—was powerful and she hated to deceive Violet. But she resisted the urge to unburden herself. She had done nothing yet, so she was not deceiving her cousin. Time to worry about it when she found her shop.

* * *

‘What the devil do you mean by presenting yourself here ten days late and looking like the riff and raff of an alehouse brawl?’ the Marquess of Westhaven demanded. He was seventy years old, as upright and belligerent as he had been in his forties. He was used to having his wishes obeyed instantly, to receiving all the deference he felt he was owed—which was considerable—and, Ivo guessed, no one had said him nay for years.