“In here, my lord,” said Brent, opening the door.
Jenny started. Lord Hatherleigh was entering the room. And he was as surprised to see her as she was him.
“Miss Alt,” he said, smiling as if he were pleased to see her.
Her heart fluttered at that smile. She saw that he appeared wet from the rain.
“I was told there was a nice warm fire in here,” he said.
“Oh,” she uttered, rising to her feet. “Come and sit. I’ll have another log put on.”
“I can do it.” He walked to the fireplace and took a split log out of the pewter pail, placing it on the blaze and stoking it to life. He stayed there, hunched, staring into the fire for a moment.
“Do you have a chill? Would you like a blanket?”
“No. I will be fine.” He rose and went to an armchair. “The ladies are changing. You were wise not to go with us. The skies opened up and sent us fleeing home. Here we are, drenched and miserable, and there you are, tidy and peaceful in your chair by the fire.”
He leaned forward and peeked at her book. “Miss Austen?”
She covered the book. Some people disapproved of novels, especially ones written by women. She was sure he would make fun of her.
Noticing the gesture, he leaned back and regarded her gravely. “Is it true you prefer the company of books to people?”
“No!” she said, surprised at her own vehemence.
“But I seem to have put you out again. No doubt you were enjoying your solitude. I seem to be intruding upon you all the time, Miss Alt.”
He was flustering her. “Not at all. I was just leaving anyway.”
She made to rise, but he held out a hand. It was not delicate, but it was slender, with long, tapered fingers. She did not know why the sight of that hand so near, almost touching her, twisted a faintly pleasant feeling in her stomach.
“Are you running away again?”
“Running away?” She choked on the words. They were far too accurate. “What an extraordinary thing to say. Of course I was not running away.” She cautioned herself to stop her heated denials; they sounded as thin as they were. “I was simply going to leave you to relax, here by the fire, to dry off. I am certain you do not wish to be disturbed. Then again, my aunt and Cassandra will be returning soon.”
He rose and doffed his coat, spreading it out so that the heat from the fire would dry it. “But I do not wish to be left alone, to the fire, as you say. And your presence does not disturb me in the least.”
Having no other choice, Jenny settled back in her chair, putting the book on the table beside her and adjusting her spectacles. “Very well. Well, then.” There was an awkward silence. “Did you have a pleasant day on the Town?”
“Quite. We strolled Bond Street, took a turn in the park. I felt rather like a spectacle, I confess. Everyone was very curious. Your aunt had us parading around without the slightest notice of the attention she was garnering, or at least pretending not to. She did an excellent job of it, I must say.” He chuckled. “I do believe she came to enjoy herself after a while.”
Jenny imagined her aunt had warmed to her task if she had felt the curiosity pointed at them was more envious than gossip-minded. That was a good indication.
“Too bad the rain put you out,” she observed.
“Ah, but this is England, and we are used to it, are we not?”
“Yes. The weather is unpredictable.” She wanted to groan at such an inane comment. The weather! Her hands were restless. She grasped them together to keep them still.
He had the most intent way of looking at her, as if he were trying to see what lay below the surface. Jenny told herself that this was just her fancy. What could he find to fascinate him about her ordinary appearance? Still, the sensation persisted.
“In the country, it comes swiftly when I am out on the moors or deep in the woods, waylaying me in mud and soggy clothing.” He spread his hands out. “So this is nothing new.”
“You are very fond of your country home,” she observed.
“It is the life for me. It is a much slower pace, with a good deal of solitude and neighbors far enough away to make the occasional get-together an event to anticipate, but not a nuisance with too much frequency. No one to judge you, you see. The
re is a greater degree of freedom.”