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Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three

Chapter One

"Oh, cruel fate! I am sunk in despair."

The young man burst into the room, creating a small furor in the staid men's club. He clutched his perfectly manicured fingers into a fist and struck his breast.

The man in the Moroccan leather chair by the hearth opened his slightly bloodshot eyes.

"Really, Nigel, even if you have no care for my comfort at least consider the feelings of your tailor. I am certain the unfortunate man didn't labor over the stitching of your waistcoat merely to have you batter it about as though you were in Gentleman Jackson's boxing saloon."

"Ah, you jest, and mock my pain. You, who have never felt the sharp prick of Cupid's arrow."

"No, thank God, I have not. I cannot imagine a more uncomfortable predicament than being moonstruck over some female, at the expense of my reason."

"Such sweet pain! Delightful torment! Delicious agony!"

"You really must desist, Osgood. I plan to sup eventually, and you will ruin whatever appetite I might be able to muster."

Nigel flung himself into a chair opposite his friend's. "I do not expect you to sympathize with my plight, Masters. But I am at my wit's end. I do not know where to turn. You are my last hope."

"I am amazed that you would see in me any sort of hope at all, dear boy. Just because I am your cousin, and you have been accustomed all your life to turning to me when you get into scrapes, does not mean I have miraculous powers. If I did, I would have arranged a better fate for myself in last night's faro game."

"Cleaned out, are you?" said Nigel, momentarily distracted. "Rotten luck." He recollected himself. "But if you knew my circumstances, you would think yourself fortunate in comparison."

"Is that so? All right, young whelp. I concede you have piqued my curiosity. What has robbed you of your customary equanimity?"

Nigel leaned forward eagerly. "I have met the most beautiful, charming, delightful girl in all the world! Her eyes are like brilliant sapphires, her mouth a perfect rosebud, and her hair is dark and glorious, so black it is almost blue, like a midnight lake. Though the graces have endowed her with such a pleasing aspect, her demeanor surpasses it. Clarinda is all things amiable and beautiful."

Masters examined his cuticles. "In love again, are we?"

"Not 'again'! This is the first time I have ever known true love. The rest were mere infatuations."

"I see. And how does this paragon view you?"

Nigel puffed himself up. "She loves me, unworthy though I am."

"As a single man of good reputation, unencumbered by debt and possessing a respectable fortune, you are not that unworthy, pup. Are there any objections to your suit from her family?"

"Not as such. Her father seems quite fond of me already. He calls me son and thumps me on the back."

Masters settled back among the deep cushions of his chair. "Then where is the rub?"

"It is Clarinda's sister, Jane. Jane is the elder, and old Humphreys insists she be wed before Clarinda."

"Jane Humphreys? Hmm, I wonder, do I know that name? Is she out in society?"

Nigel shifted uneasily.

"Of course, but she does not attend many social functions. Disapproves of them, I'll be bound. Seen her in Bloomsbury at the British Museum, though."

"That's it! I have placed her now. Jane Humphreys--she has the reputation of a bluestocking, and a moralizing one at that. I heard she lectured poor Rochester for broaching a third bottle of claret at dinner. Told him his liver would pickle. Gave him a most vivid account of it. He hasn't been able to eat a pickled onion since."

Masters laughed, and ran his hand carelessly through his short dark hair.

Glumly, Nigel nodded. "She has a sharp tongue, I'll vow, and a quick temper. She threw a vase at Buntley when he proposed to her. Claimed he was making fun of her, just because he likened her eyes to green waters of the Serpentine."

A short laugh again escaped Masters. "No wonder she threw the vase at him. Have you seen how filthy that water can become?"

"That's not the point, Rand. There is not a hint of address about the woman. Jane has reduced poor Clarinda to tears on many occasions. Clarinda never complains, but I suspect her sister is a sad trial to her."

"I suppose she must be, though I confess I have never clapped eyes on this Jane Humphreys. Is she Friday-faced?"

Nigel furrowed his brow in thought. "No, as far as I can recollect, I believe she could be tolerable, if she took any care with her dress. But you must understand, whenever I've seen Jane, Clarinda has been there, too, and Clarinda dazzles my eyes to the exclusion of all others."

"Ah, yes. I forgot the extent of your affliction. Do you know Jane's age?"

"Clarinda told me her sister is twenty-three."

"Practically on the shelf, I see."

Masters put his elbows on the upholstered arms of the chair and clasped his hands together.

"Let me see if I have grasped the whole of it. Your love for the fair Clarinda can never be consummated as long as her sister Jane remains unattached."

"That is the crux of the matter."

"But why is old Humphreys making this stipulation? It seems almost feudal. This is the nineteenth century, after all."

"He is adamant because it is the only way he will ever get Jane off his hands. And I doubt Jane would be a comfort to him in his old age. Not with her tongue. No, Clarinda will dwindle into spinsterhood before anyone will give Jane a second look. My beloved's life, as well as mine, will be forever blighted, our hearts broken."

He looked downcast, reminding Masters of a sad-eyed hound he once owned. Masters never could resist that dog. Though he felt a twinge of impatience with his cousin's emotional extravagance, Masters decided to try and help him anyway.

"This is indeed a difficult coil, cuz. If you would like, I will beard old Humphreys in his den and plead your case. I might be able to reason with him."

Nigel's smile was wan. "Awfully decent of you, Rand, but I am afraid it would not do any good. His mind is set. Only one thing will save us now--one noble sacrifice. You could--no, it is too much to ask. And yet, there are definite advantages all around..."

"What are you nattering about?" Masters' suspicions were aroused. "Why did you seek me out?"

"I want you to marry Jane."

Masters sat up sharply, causing him to wince and hold his head.

"A thousand apologies, cuz. I must have heard you wrong. I thought you said you wanted me to marry Jane Humphreys."

"That is a brilliant idea!" Nigel beamed. "It is the perfect solution. You are not married, nor even have your feelings engaged elsewhere. Your father has been after you for years to do your duty to the family and set up your nursery. And you know how perpetually short of funds you are. Clarinda's father will settle handsomely on any man who marries his oldest daughter."

Masters drew his brow into a deep frown.

"You go too far, Nigel. The Masters men are not mercenary. We have no need to be."

Nigel shrugged. "The family estate may be in good repair, but you and your father have not been on speaking terms since you left Somerset to join the army. Your marrying a respectable woman like Jane Humphreys, who will bring a good deal of wealth into the family, would go a long way to amending matters between you, don't you think?"

Ah, Nigel had found his Achilles heel and given it a direct whack. Randolph Ware, Viscount Masters, son of the Earl of Ashton and recently retired Captain in His Majesty's 13th Light Dragoons, was tired of spinning his wheels in London. He had left ten years ago in the middle of a quarrel with his father, and they had not written or spoken to each other since.

Masters couldn't even remember many details of the argument that had sparked his impetuous decision to join the army. It didn't really matter. His father had been a cold and unforgiving parent, and at twenty years of age Masters chafed to get away from his father's suffocating strictures and live life on his own.

Refusing any financial support from the earl, Masters had lived by his wits and on his officer's pay. He didn't regret one second of those years spent with Wellington on the Peninsula, not even the horrific Battle of Waterloo. But the truth was his adventures had left him with some good memories and plenty of nightmares, and not much more.

London and its dissipations were a welcome distraction after the horrors of war, but Masters had grown weary of them. He was ready to go home and shoulder his responsibilities as the future Earl of Ashton. Returning home with a wife and a fortune of his own to add to the family estate was a tempting prospect.

Still, he had to be careful. One thing he'd learned fighting the French was to always check your positions carefully before attempting a foray.

"If old man Humphreys is making such a generous settlement on his daughter, should she not have been at least betrothed by now? I cannot imagine she would lack for offers in this money-hungry town."

Nigel appeared affronted by his cousin's cynicism.

"Josiah Humphreys is not a monster, Rand. He allows his daughter to accept or refuse any suitor. There have been many, but so far Jane has refused them all."

"Has she, by Jove?"

A flash of interest sparked in Master's jaded brain. A difficult woman, by all accounts. Difficult, but different from the vapid society women he met. Masters craved different, but after many London seasons he scarce believed it existed.

"Just for a moment, let us suppose I was foolish enough to agree to your bacon-brained scheme. What makes you think the chit will accept me when she has refused so many others?"

"You can be very persuasive when you want to be," Nigel answered blithely. "And you are accounted to be quite handsome by the ladies."

"Stop, or you will put me to the blush," was Master's dry reply.

"It's worth a go, Rand. You would please your father no end if you returned to the family seat respectably married and plump in the pocket. In those circumstances he would be well content to see the earldom pass on to his only son."

The whelp was serious. Masters had never known his cousin to be quite so determined. But then, Nigel was still young enough to believe he knew what was best for everyone.

Masters harbored no romantic illusions about marriage. It was a civil contract, nothing more. It was always a mistake to fancy yourself in love. Women were fascinating yet undependable creatures.

He had no patience for finding a bride according to the rules of the London marriage mart. It seemed all he encountered during the Season were simpering misses and their scheming mamas. Even worse, a man was expected to spout silly verses and words of love to any chit he found the least bit suitable as potential wife material.

Of course he would marry one day, as duty commanded. His marriage would bring honor and financial gain to his family, heirs to carry on the earldom. He neither expected nor wanted to be gripped by great passion in his marriage. A transitory emotion, passion was best left for trysts with opera dancers.

No, a man was far better off marrying a biddable wife to create a comfortable home than staking his future on something as effervescent as passion.

Apparently this Jane Humphreys was in no hurry to be wed, either. Momentarily diverted, Masters chuckled at the thought of mealy-mouthed Buntley with a vase heaved at his head.

Of course, that would never happen to him. If he put his mind to charming Jane Humphreys, she would offer no resistance. Or would she? It could be interesting.

Different.

"Damn the brandy I drank last night." Masters put his hand to his forehead, feeling it throb. "The liquor's dissipating fumes make your plan sound almost reasonable."

Nigel's eyes lit up.

"I wearied of my soldier's life, and now I find I am weary of wasting my time in London in idle pursuits. I am ready to go back to Ashton Park and try my hand at running the estate. Having a wife in tow would be a decided asset, both in executing my duties to the family name, and in reconciling matters between my father and myself. But I confess the lady's reputation gives me pause."

"It is greatly exaggerated, I assure you. Jane will make any man who has the wit to manage her a good wife."

Masters eyed Nigel warily. "I will not promise anything. But I will meet Miss Humphreys, and see if she is the dragon society paints her to be."

Nigel leapt from his chair. "I knew you would not fail me! I am forever in your debt. We shall call on Humphreys together this very afternoon, and set our plans in motion."

Osgood left the club in a flurry of enthusiasm. Masters lingered, staring at the empty hearth. A fresh start was appealing. But was it worth marriage to a hellcat?

Chapter Two

Jane Humphreys turned the page of her book. Her dog lay curled at her feet, a furry kitten content on her lap. Sun shone brightly through the leaded glass panes in the drawing room of the Humphreys' London town house.

Jane took no notice of the uncommonly fine spring day. In her imagination she was sailing with Captain Cook in the Endeavor, exploring the South Sea Islands.

Oh, to be so free, out in the air and far away from the stuffy conventions of society, where she was considered odd because she had more on her mind than the latest modes of dress. Jane's father would not take her seriously because she was a girl, and she embarrassed her fashionable sister.

Jane suspected she was a disappointment to her father, though her fond parent would never come right out and say so. With three London Seasons behind her, Jane had yet to "take." Though her dowry attracted many suitors, she had found something at fault with all of them. She was intelligent enough to realize it was her money, and not her person, which was drawing these men, and woman enough to be affronted by it.

For Jane had a secret that her practical father and popular sister never would have guessed. She harbored a romantic soul beneath her bookish exterior. It's not that she never wanted to marry. It was just that she wholeheartedly believed that any fate, even that of a spinster, was better endured than a marriage without true love and affection.

The men who called and left her posies in the parlor spoke effusively of love, but Jane was not deceived. All they cared about was her father's money. Jane's rescued animals gave her more unselfish love and affection than any London dandy she had encountered.

Those closest to Jane noted her fiery temper, not appreciating that it was just one facet of her passionate nature. She could love just as fiercely, a side of her only her pets had so far experienced.

"My dress, my lovely dress!"

A melodious cry echoed through the narrow house, shattering the peace.

Jane started, dropping her book. The dog got up, awkwardly, and stumped into a corner. Claws extended, the cat sprang out of Jane's lap. Sudden, sharp pain propelled Jane to her feet.

"Jane, Jane!" A vision of beleaguered loveliness burst into the room. "Your cat has ruined my best morning gown!"

Jane regarded her sister with exasperation. "I doubt it. If any gown is ruined, it is the one I am wearing. When you shrieked, Clarinda, you startled poor Moses and in his fright he ripped the material with his claws."

"'Poor Moses'! How can you defend him?"

Clarinda's ruby lips trembled.

"That beast did something foul all over my sprig muslin. I doubt Mary, or indeed any maid, will ever be able to remove the odious stain."

Jane adopted a reasonable tone.

"Moses is just a kitten. It cannot be that much of a disaster. You are just being silly, as usual, sister." She went back to reading her book.

"I am being silly, am I?"

Clarinda's voice rose several octaves.

"Who is it who brings animals into a civilized home, when they clearly belong out-of-doors! And not just any animals, but freakish creatures."

She looked pointedly at the dog that was cowering in the corner.

Clarinda's contempt ignited Jane's quick temper.

"Fortunata may only have three legs, but she has more courage than you do! She scarcely whined, though her leg was crushed in that trap. If I had not found her, she would have bled to death."

"Well, she is hardly of any use to anyone in this condition. Indeed, she is a sorry excuse for a dog." Clarinda sniffed.

The dog whimpered and tucked its tail behind its one back leg. On an impulse Jane picked up a pillow from the settee and lobbed it at her sister, hitting her square in the head. Half of Clarinda's cascade of jet-black curls, piled on her head, tumbled askew. Clarinda howled at the surprise attack.

"You wretch, Jane! You have ruined my coiffure. What if Mr. Osgood stops by to pay a morning call?"

Jane was immediately contrite. "I'm sorry, Rinda. I never meant for the pillow to strike you with such force. It's just what you said made me so angry, just for a moment."

Clarinda calmed down a fraction. "Long enough to destroy my hair. You never think, do you, Jane? No wonder you are still on the shelf. Oh well, I had best try to repair the damage you caused."

Clarinda started to back out of the room, and tripped over the dog, who was trying to slink out at the same time. Clarinda stumbled and fell, sprawling, onto the Aubusson carpet.

Tears of frustration coursed down her rosy cheeks. Her small feet in their satin slippers beat an angry tattoo on the floor.

"Father! Come see what Jane has done to me now!"

Jane gasped. "Clarinda, how can you say such a thing! You managed this disaster on your own."

"I never would have fallen if you had not hurled that missile at me!"

"Missile? It's a pillow. Just like this."

Jane picked up another pillow to demonstrate. Clarinda covered her face with her hands and wailed dramatically. It was at that moment Josiah Humphreys strode into the drawing room, followed by two impeccably dressed men. Jane recognized Nigel Osgood. But she froze, pillow in hand, at the sight of the tall, dark man who was with him.

"I say, daughters," her father said in robust tones. "You have callers."

"My dear Miss Clarinda." Nigel advanced, his voice throbbing with emotion. "Are you injured?" He knelt beside her, capturing her small hand and pressing it to his chest.

Clarinda peeped up at him beneath tear-bedewed eyelashes.

"Oh, Nigel. I am so glad you have come. I have had the most shocking experience. Truly. My hair shall have to be entirely redone."

"There, there," Nigel crooned, stroking her cheek.

Jane stared at her sister in frustrated disbelief. Looking up, she caught the amused expression of Osgood's companion. To her surprise, he raised his eyebrows, indicating the touching scene between Osgood and Clarinda. He looked as though he was barely able to restrain his laughter.

Jane's breath caught in her throat. Was this man actually laughing at Clarinda? Most men found her sister simply adorable, and herself scarcely worth noticing. Could it be...was he truly different from the type of man she usually met?

He certainly looked different. Almost classically handsome, with his tall, muscular frame and thick blue-black hair, he just missed Adonis-style beauty by having a scar on his too-tanned cheek. More than his face was marked, though; he had a weary look in his eyes, as though he had seen a bit too much of life.

Jane wished her hair wasn't in her eyes and she wasn't clutching a tattered pillow. Not that it mattered. She had no need to impress anybody, especially this man with the coal-dark eyes. Still, she succumbed to the overwhelming impulse to sit down for a moment and catch her breath.

* * *

Masters had a vague sense that his cousin was attending to an extremely pretty girl on the rug. This must be Nigel's fair Clarinda, he realized. She was certainly the diamond Nigel had described though to his mind her beauty was marred by petulance.

He did not spare more than a moment for the beauteous Clarinda, for his eyes were riveted to the other female in the room. This must be the notorious Jane, the woman no man had been able to claim as his own.

Jane's hair was as mussed as her sister's but it did not look nearly as artful. Wisps of dark auburn hair with fiery highlights formed a storm cloud around her face. She stood silhouetted against the windows, pillow in hand, bosom heaving, emerald eyes flashing, and indignation streaming out of her like hot lava from an exploding volcano.

She looked like a modern reincarnation of Britain's ancient Queen Boadicea, and just as capable of torching all of London in her wrath.

She was the most magnificent female he had ever seen.

Jane caught his gaze and it seemed to startle her. The rigid tension in her stance went limp, like a neck cloth with the starch washed out of it.

For a brief moment she seemed bewildered. Abruptly she sat with a thud on the settee cushion.

"Girls, what is the meaning of this?" said Humphreys.

"Jane threw--"

"Clarinda said--"

Humphreys raised his hand to halt the clamor. "No matter. I have brought you visitors. Both of you may be excused to make yourselves presentable."

Jane recovered her poise at her father's words, and stood, tossing her head rebelliously. She looked over to the men. Her gaze passed quickly over Nigel to linger uncertainly on Masters.

Masters felt a jolt as her green gaze connected to his. He met her gaze boldly, and was intrigued to see she did not falter. She met him stare for stare, curious and challenging.

He found it difficult to tear himself away, yet he did not want her to gain the upper hand. He bowed, then gave her his best insolent wink.

Confused, she broke eye contact with him at that, which left him feeling oddly elated.

"Father, I will retire to my room to rest."

"You will do no such thing, Jane. Not when Lord Masters has come especially to see you. Now go with your sister and change your gown."

Jane looked mutinous. "I have no wish for company now. Besides, it is time for Fortunata's bath."

"Mary or one of the other maids can wash your dratted dog. The bitch is easy enough to catch."

He laughed uproariously at his witticism, which Masters did not understand. He did observe the sudden spark in Jane's eyes. Without a word she turned and prepared to leave the room. Clarinda preceded her, after making a lengthy production of saying goodbye to Nigel.

Jane stopped in the doorway, and came back to pick up a book from the side table. So Jane's a reader, thought Masters, and undoubtedly a bluestocking as well as a termagant. Her color was high as she favored her father with a smile that appeared decidedly false to Masters.

"I will leave you gentlemen to your privacy, Father, so you can laugh some more at the expense of my unfortunate pet."

Grabbing the door handle, she whirled out of the room, slamming the door hard behind her. A porcelain plate propped on the mantel crashed on the brick hearth below.

Humphreys picked up a shard.

"Wedgwood," he said glumly. "A wedding gift from my Aunt Augusta, if I recollect correctly."

He placed the green and white fragment on the mantel shelf. "That girl will be the death of me yet."

"It does appear she is hard on the crockery," Masters agreed blandly.

Humphreys raised mournful eyes to Masters.

"I cannot misrepresent her temperament now, even if I wanted to. You have seen for yourself how she is. Do you still wish to court her, sir?"

Masters glanced down at the shattered Wedgwood plate and winced.

"I am prepared to bestow ten thousand pounds on the man who can win her hand," Humphreys hastened to add.

"Have you no shame, man, that you would so plainly make your daughter part of a business transaction?" Masters was incredulous, and slightly repelled.

"You drive a hard bargain, my lord. Make it twenty-five thousand, then, to bless the union."

Masters backed up to the settee and sat down, without waiting for an invitation. Something small struggled mightily in the cushions beneath him. Masters arched his backside, and with an indignant meow, a tiny kitten scampered off the sofa and streaked towards the door.

"Is that the kitten Jane rescued from the Thames?" asked Nigel. "The one Clarinda told me just now got sick all over her best dress?"

"I can toss some acreage out in Sussex into the bargain," Humphreys interjected, a hint of desperation in his voice.

Masters stared at Jane's father in disbelief.

"Oh, what is the use," moaned Humphreys. "The chit probably would not have you, anyway. Jane is the most contrary lass alive. If only her mother had lived...or Clarinda's mother, for that matter. I have had bad luck with my wives, Masters, no doubt about it. And now my girls run rings around me. Clarinda is mostly biddable, and with her looks and my money she will find a husband right enough."

Nigel started to speak, but Masters quelled him with a look.

"But Jane! The devil himself would think twice about taking her on. If I had not given my sacred vow to her mother on her deathbed that I would see Jane wed before any other daughter I might beget, I would gladly abandon the attempt."

"Pardon me, sir, if I speak out of turn," said Masters, "but it appears to me you have given Jane her head far too often. She is a wild, impulsive girl. What she needs is a man who is not afraid of her, and will show her where her place is in the rightful order of things."

Humphreys looked at Masters with hope. "Are you such a man?"

"The task would be well within my power, if I were so inclined." Masters recalled Jane's fine figure and flashing eyes, and realized the job would have its rewards.

"If she would have you," added Nigel.

"Fustian! If I determine to win her, I will," he said loftily. "And then the world would see a new Jane Humphreys."

"Care to make a wager?" said Nigel. "Fifty pounds says it cannot be done. No, make that one hundred pounds, to be paid to you on the condition that you will have proposed and been accepted by Miss Humphreys by the end of June."

"The end of June is less than two weeks away," said Humphreys.

"Agreed?" said Nigel, paying no attention to Humphreys.

"Agreed," said Masters.

"Then pray excuse me," said Nigel to his host. "I must get this in the betting book at White's."

"I must be off also," said Masters. "There are one or two matters I must attend to. Inform Miss Jane I will return at five to take her for a drive in the park."

Masters lingered in the hallway, adjusting his gloves. He almost dropped his cane when he saw a three-legged dog emerge from behind a potted palm and stump into the drawing room.

"Sporting gentleman," he overheard Humphreys say, oddly enough, to the dog. "Might be unsteady. Perhaps I should check into this Masters fellow. Yet, even if he is not quite up to snuff, he might do very well for our Jane. Indeed, if he could get Jane to consent to marry him it would be a miracle."

The dog thumped her tail on the carpet in agreement.

Masters heard the sound of the bell cord being pulled. The butler eyed Masters askance as he went to answer the summons.

"There you are, Weatherwax." Masters heard Humphreys' voice once more. "Bring me a glass of Madeira, in the library. I have much to ponder."

Masters decided to leave before the butler came back into the hall. Exiting the townhouse, he emerged into the summer sunshine and smiled. For the first time since he left the army, he had a campaign to execute.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later when Clarinda and Jane returned to the morning room in fresh gowns, they found the room empty.

Clarinda stamped her foot. "Oh, that's too bad of them! They have all gone."

And to her surprise, Jane found herself a little disappointed as well.

"Weatherwax!" Clarinda demanded, catching sight of the butler in the hall. "Where is our father?"

"In the library, miss," the butler answered in lugubrious tones. "Pondering."

"Is that so?" said Jane. "Then unfortunately we must interrupt him. Clarinda and I have some urgent questions to put to him."

Jane sped across the hall with her sister trailing in her wake, and flung open the library door.

"What is the meaning of this, Father? You commanded us to change our gowns to entertain visitors, and when we do we find they have left. What insult is this?"

"No insult, my dear. It's just the opposite, in fact. Lord Masters intends to court you."

Clarinda clapped her hands in astonishment. Jane's heart started to pound, and she heard her father through a roaring in her ears.

"Masters seems a personable enough fellow. Fought with Wellington on the Peninsula, and he's willing to overlook your oddities, my gel. What is more, he is noble."

Jane gripped the edge of her father's desk. "I do not give a fig if he is the most virtuous man in London. I do not wish to be courted by him."

"Watch your language, Jane. Besides, I am not talking about his character, but his bloodlines. He will be an earl one day. You will be a countess, a real lady."

Clarinda sniffed delicately. "I scarce think that possible."

Jane's head was spinning. Her future was being decided for her. Masters' piercing black eyes, and his unexpected wink, were seared on her memory. A soldier. That would explain his lean hardness, his air of confidence.

But it was no matter. No doubt her father had paid him to propose, just like all the others. She was not going to have a husband purchased for her.

"If this is a jest, it is in very poor taste," said Jane. She regretted the unsteadiness in her voice.

"No jest, I assure you, daughter. For some reason Lord Masters is taken with you, and he has asked my leave to pay you his addresses."

"I hope you refused. As you well know, I have no intention of wedding him, or any man."

A cry escaped Clarinda.

"How can you be so selfish, sister! You know I cannot marry until you do."

"That rule is not of my making. It was devised by our parent, and he can alter it at his will."

"There is to be no talk of altering rules. You will marry, Jane, before your sister Clarinda, just as I promised your mother. And if you continue to defy me, I will send you to Blackpool to live with your Great-Aunt Agatha."

Jane repressed a shudder. She could well imagine her days in Blackpool, tied to a querulous invalid, adjusting her aunt's shawl, reading her book of sermons aloud and making her endless cups of tea. She could tell by the militant look in her father's eyes that he was not to be swayed. And Clarinda by this time was crying noisily.

Jane decided to take a different strategy. She struggled to appear calm.

"Am I to be allowed the luxury of being courted, or am I to go straight to the altar to marry a man I have scarcely met and do not know?"

She spoke softly, and her father was partially mollified.

"I am not an unreasonable man. You shall be courted, just like any other well-brought-up girl."

"And am I obliged to accept his suit?"

She worked to keep her tone deceptively mild.

"It would please me greatly, daughter."

"And me as well!" interjected Clarinda.

"Well, if that is the situation," Jane retorted, looking about the room for something heavy and breakable to throw, "by all means I will strive to please you. After all, what is my happiness compared to yours? What has it ever counted for in this family?"

She grabbed an exceptionally ugly statue of a pug dog off a bookcase and slammed it to the carpet. It refused to shatter. She wanted to scream with frustration. So she did.

"That is enough, Jane," Humphreys roared. "I vow, you would try the patience of a saint! Well, your antics have backfired on you now. You have quite made up my mind. You will go to the park with Lord Masters in his carriage this afternoon, you will be pleasant, and if he offers for your hand, you will accept him. I have already given him my blessing, and I intend to see you both joined in holy wedlock before Christmastide!"

Jane gasped. "You cannot coerce me into marriage, Father."

"I can, and I will. I have indulged you long enough. It's time you were married, and your sister, too. Then at last I will have some peace in my own home!"

Jane had never seen her father like this before. She believed he was really serious. If this Lord Masters, the man with the insolent gaze, offered for her, she would have to accept him. Her hopes for adventure, and her freedom, would be over.

She would be compelled to marry, and no doubt meet the same fate as her mother. All because some man chose to make her his wife.

Chose her...what if he didn't choose her? What if Masters decided not to offer for her hand after all? Then she could remain free without disobeying her father.

Dissuading Lord Masters should not be too difficult. In fact, it could be rather amusing. Hadn't she scared off all her other suitors? She would just have to take a different tack with this one--her notorious temper didn't seem to phase him.

Her heart rate returned to normal, as calmness coursed through her. She pasted a demure smile on her face.

"All right, father. I concede. I will go to the park with Lord Masters this afternoon. And if"--she tried not to stress the word--"he offers for me, I will accept him."

Mr. Humphreys looked surprised at her sudden capitulation. But Jane knew he was not a man to think too deeply about matters that seemed to be in his favor. He smiled with relief.

"Glad you have finally seen sense, Jane. Your old father knows what's best for you. Trust me, and you will be a happy woman. Now, daughters, both of you may repair to your chambers and prepare for your afternoon outings. Jane, find Weatherwax and ask him to bring me the decanter. You girls have worn me out."

Jane gave her father's instructions to the butler, then went upstairs to prepare for her encounter with her would-be groom.

She was determined to make it a ride in the park he would never forget.

Chapter Three

At the fashionable hour of five o'clock Viscount Masters pulled his curricle up in front of the Humphreys' townhouse in Berkeley Square. He was surprised to find Jane Humphreys, attired in a fussy purple carriage dress and a profusely beribboned bonnet, waiting for him in the parlor.

"My father told me of your intention to call," she greeted him gaily. "I have been instructed to go driving with you this afternoon."

He sketched a bow. "You do me great honor."

"Oh no, sir," she said, wide-eyed. "The honor is all mine." She put a gloved hand to her lips, and tittered.

Masters stifled a sharp stab of annoyance.

"Shall we go?" he said smoothly, offering her his arm. "I thought we would take a turn in Hyde Park."

"I should love that above all things! Whatever your lordship wishes." She batted her eyelashes.

Masters felt his irritation mount. "Please do not call me 'your lordship.'"

"What should I call you then?" She looked confused. "Surely not 'Your Grace'?"

"Of course not, silly--, ahem, dear Miss Humphreys. You may call me Randolph."

She giggled. "Randy?"

"Certainly not." He recoiled in horror. "Randolph. Or Masters if you prefer."

She giggled witlessly. "My father told me you were a soldier. I would love to see you in your in your military uniform. I do hope it has lots of gold braid and buttons. I adore gold braid and buttons. You must have broken many a fair maiden's heart when you sailed off to battle." She giggled again.

Masters gritted his teeth. Why, the girl was a simpering idiot! He could not abide such foolishness in anyone. And her dress was positively hideous.

"There were not many hearts to break where I've spent most of my time in uniform. I was chiefly surrounded by tired and hungry soldiers, and their hearts were well hardened."

She favored him with a blank stare. Her expression reminded him of the vacuous mien on his father's cows. He stifled an inward groan. This drive, not to mention this courtship, was going to be an ordeal.

Had he been mistaken about Jane Humphreys? Was the spark of intelligence he thought he saw in her merely an illusion?

Outside on the curb, he handed her into his curricle, and waited patiently while she adjusted the ruffles on her dress. He took his place beside her and picked up the reins of the two matched bays harnessed to it. He would get through this. He'd endured worse. Though he was beginning to think it would be easier to deal with Boney's forces again than try to converse with the empty-headed widgeon beside him.

"Oho, your pretty horses!" she squealed. "They look the same! Are they twins?"

He smiled, not trusting himself to reply. Perhaps he should not listen to her, rather just look at her.

After all, she looked quite pretty on this fair London afternoon. Her purple gown, despite its unbecoming color and fussiness, couldn't conceal her excellent figure. Her eyes were sparkling like emeralds in the sun, as gold highlights played in her rich chestnut hair as it curled around the edges of her bonnet.

She even smelled fragrant, like the lilacs in Kensington Gardens.

Masters took a great lungful of air and savored the sweetness of the moment. Perhaps all would be well. Then she opened her mouth and shattered his hopes once more.

"What a fine day. Just listen to the precious little birds! My maid said it was like to rain, but I vow there is not a cloud in the sky. The last time it rained I went out and ruined my bonnet. I was quite devastated, I assure you. Then my maid removed the ribbons and laid them near the fire till they dried. The chip straw was a sad loss, however."

Jane started a flow of unceasing chatter as he skillfully threaded his carriage through the crowded streets of Mayfair to the leafy glades of Hyde Park. Masters wanted to cover his ears. Her conversation was unbearably tiresome.

By the time they were actually trotting the park lanes, she had recounted in agonizing detail the gowns and accessories of every female who attended Lady Beauchamp's last rout, as well as who danced with whom and how many times.

"Tiens!" she cried with a miserable French accent. "That is the Duchess of Rutland, I'll vow, in that magnificent carriage with the coachman in the old-fashioned wig and three-cornered hat! And is that not Lady Cowper in the Stanhope gig? I do believe the whole of the upper ten thousand must be here this afternoon. It puts me in mind of an excursion I took to the pleasure gardens at Vauxhall last week. You will be amazed at what I saw there. Shall I tell you?"

Masters was desperate to stop her. He seized on the first topic that came to his mind.

"I have recently read a fascinating account of a pair of American explorers who mounted an expedition some years ago to explore the Louisiana Territory, which those upstart colonials purchased from France to add to their new country. The men, Meriwether Lewis and William Clark, made the most interesting discoveries."

His companion took in a deep breath and held it for a few heartbeats before expelling it in a long soft sigh.

"Explorers?" Her voice was quite different now, the affectation gone. "What did they find?"

"A great river, flowing westward to the Pacific Ocean. Primitive tribes, clustered in groups with their own forms of government and warfare. Tall, snow-crested mountains, and vast reaches of land, teeming with herds of strange and exotic creatures."

He noted with interest that her eyes were shining, her hands stilled in her lap.

"Would you like to hear more?"

"Oh yes." Then she shook her head a little, and seemed to recollect where she was. "But la! How dangerous that sounds! I am sure I would die of fright in such a situation."

She said it without conviction. Masters stole a quick glance at her, and saw a fleeting disappointment in her eyes. Then she determinedly changed the subject.

"Speaking of interesting accounts, you should see the latest fashions in La Belle Assemblée. The new styles are ever so charming, and very haut ton. Clarinda and I will just die if we cannot persuade Papa to let us have some new gowns made. Clarinda has her heart set on a ruffled morning gown, but I feel I should quite perish if I do not obtain one of those sweet little silver-spangled Armenian toques, or hats, as you gentlemen undoubtedly would term them. The price is dear, but I care not for the cost. I have no head for figures, as my poor papa always tells me. For bonnets, perhaps, but not receipts."

She laughed shrilly at her witticism, which grated on Master's ears but did not upset him nearly as much as it would have mere minutes before.

For Masters had experienced a revelation: the minx was bamming him. She was not nearly as feather-brained as she was trying to appear. She had shown a genuine, intelligent interest, though it was just a flash, when he had brought up the topic of Lewis and Clark's explorations.

For some reason she wanted him to think of her as an empty-headed fool, like so many other society misses. But why? Did she think that is what he wanted?

Or, did she think it would be the last thing he would want in a wife?

A slow smile creased his features. So, Jane intended to discourage him not by heaving a vase at his head, but by giving him a disgust of her. How subtle of her. And it very nearly worked. He had been entertaining serious doubts about there being enough compensation in the world for him to tolerate such a vain and shallow female as his life's companion.

But now he saw through her stratagem, and it was having the opposite effect. Now she was becoming an intriguing challenge. The game was on, and Jane Humphreys would find him an able opponent.

This ride was going to be interesting, after all.

* * *

Jane wished she had paid more attention to her sister's fashion magazines. She had thought it enough just to don her sister's discarded purple riding habit, which had once become Clarinda quite well but was ghastly on Jane.

But now Jane was having a hard time remembering enough about the latest styles and gowns to keep up her steady stream of prattle. Fortunately, she had a good imagination and she could invent much of the fashion details she was telling him. She doubted he would know the difference; Masters was obviously neither a dandy nor a fop.

What she really wanted was to hear more about the American explorers, not pass on the same sort of drivel she had to endure all day from Clarinda. Perhaps she had misjudged Viscount Masters. Anyone that interested in adventure must have other redeeming qualities as well.

She stole a glance at the man in the seat beside her. He probably thought he could have her for the asking. A dashing soldier, doing her family a favor by taking her off their hands. Lured, no doubt, by the well-publicized dowry her father was prepared to bestow on anyone who would marry her.

Well, she would not be an easy conquest for him. Viscount Masters may well be the type of man accustomed to taking what he wanted, and not averse to doing battle for it if necessary. But she could fight, too, though in a less direct manner. She had too much pride to be sold into marriage just to please her father and sister.

"Why, Miss Jane, you have fallen silent. I have been curious to hear your opinion of the refreshments at Vauxhall. Did you partake of the sliced ham?"

She jolted out of her reverie. "Sliced? You must mean shaved. I vow, the meat was as thin as Napoleon's chances against Wellington at Waterloo."

A short bark of laughter escaped Masters. Jane felt her cheeks grow hot. Her quick tongue had betrayed her again. She had not meant to say anything amusing. It was much harder than she thought to be consistently silly and dull.

"It is uncommonly warm for June, is it not?" She reached in her reticule for her fan.

"Do you think so?" His tone was bland. "I find there is a breeze coming on. But I will move my vehicle more to the side. Perhaps the air will be cooler for you under the trees."

He maneuvered his curricle closer to the edge of the path. As the horses trotted on, there was a stir in the bushes. A small creature suddenly darted out into the road.

"Oh, do be careful, Lord Masters!" Jane stood up and pointed. "Take care the horses do not crush the rabbit!"

The horses reared in alarm. The rabbit froze in the middle of the road, paralyzed with fright beneath the pawing hooves.

"Do not ever stand while I am driving," said Masters through gritted teeth. He struggled to calm his team. But Jane was jumping down out of the curricle as he spoke.

"Miss Jane, come back! You will be hurt! By Jove, woman, are your wits to let?"

Jane paid no attention to him. She rushed to the front of the curricle. She was vaguely aware of the tension in his body as he pulled the horses into line, a stream of commands issuing from his lips. He worked to keep the bays under control, though they strained at their leads, pawing the ground and tossing their silky manes.

Ignoring the danger, Jane darted in front of the horses to reach a pathetic heap of fur on the ground. Lightning-fast, she made a grab for the rabbit and withdrew to a safe distance.

"It is still breathing, but I fear it is hurt," she said, cradling the injured animal in her arms. "I must ask you take me home directly so I may tend to it."

Masters was speechless. Traffic had stopped around them, and the fashionable occupants of the idling carriages were openly staring at her. When he did speak, he looked as though he were trying to contain himself.

"You could have been killed." Anxiety sharpened his voice to a rasp. "First you stand in the curricle while it is moving, and then you fling yourself amid rearing horses. All for an animal that is nothing more than a piece of game! Miss Humphreys, you are either astonishingly brave or remarkably silly. By Jove, I know not which is the case!"

She was surprised at his vehemence, but would not let it deflect her purpose. Ignoring his diatribe, she tapped her foot, taking care not to jostle her charge.

"Are you going to help me or not?"

His mouth twisted, though whether with amusement or disdain was unclear.

"You are dauntless, aren't you? Well, I will not have it thought I am not a gentleman. Allow me to assist you. But first, you must hand me that rabbit."

Reluctantly she lifted the injured animal. He took the rabbit from her, and gently placed it on the seat of the curricle. Then, bracing himself, he took her by both her hands and pulled her back up into the vehicle. She narrowly missed tripping on the hem of her skirt, but her companion seemed not to notice.

Instead, he eyed her critically.

"By the way, there is blood on your gown."

She shrugged with impatience.

"That is not important now. We must see what can be done to save this poor creature. Hand me your carriage blanket, sir, so I can wrap it."

The rabbit's eyes were closed. She felt its tiny heart flutter erratically.

"Oh, do hurry, Lord Masters. There may not be much time."

On the short drive back to Berkeley Square she gave her full attention to the bundle in her lap. It was easier than dealing with the compelling and authoritative man who was transporting her. He took command of the situation quickly and thoroughly. To her surprise, she found she had complete confidence in his ability to carry out their mission of mercy.

When they arrived at her family's townhouse in Berkeley Square she did not even wait for the butler to open the door.

"Follow me," she directed Masters. "We can lay the creature on the hearth in the drawing room. I will ask Weatherwax to light a fire."

Her gown, she knew, had gotten torn, as well as bloodied, but there was no time to change it. She looked around for a good place to lay her tiny patient, and spotted Clarinda's needlework basket by the hearth.

She dumped the needles and excess yarn, and left the half-worked blanket inside as a lining. With infinite care she placed the injured animal inside the basket. It lay there, eyes wide with fear, its breathing rapid and shallow.

Masters' face as he watched her was inscrutable. He made her heart thump almost as fast as the rabbit's.

"I will return as soon as I can," she told him, more abruptly than she intended. "Make sure the rabbit stays in the basket."

Leaving Masters staring after her, she hurried to the still room, where she kept all of her remedies made with herbs and roots she collected in the country. She searched for and found what was left of a poultice mixture she had prepared with barley meal and sweet suet for their footman who had fallen on the stairs.

She took the little pot, with a bowl of water and a clean soft rag, and returned to the drawing room.

"Is the rabbit still breathing?"

Masters nodded, and Jane sighed with relief. She knelt by the fire and carefully unwrapped the blanket to examine the rabbit.

"Just as I feared. Your horses nearly trampled this poor creature. I cannot be sure if any limbs are broken, but at least I can clean the wound and apply this poultice."

Masters knelt on the hearthrug beside her. "Are you not afraid of being bitten?"

"I will watch my fingers. I have done this before."

"So I gathered."

"The creature is in pain, but I believe it understands I am trying to help."

She stroked the rabbit's soft head and ears while she spoke. As she continued to pet him, the rabbit closed its brown eyes and its breathing steadied.

She looked up to see Masters watching her with a frown of concentration on his handsome face. His eyes held a distant light of memory, and it didn't appear to be a pleasant one he was recalling.

"Are you quite well, my lord?"

"I am quite all right, Miss Humphreys. I would not decline a spot of brandy, however."

"There's a decanter on the sideboard, though I am afraid it is Madeira. My father prefers it. You are welcome to take a glass."

"May I pour you one as well?"

"No, thank you. I will ring for some tea when I have finished bandaging this rabbit's leg."

Masters filled his glass with the amber liquid. He raised it in his companion's direction.

"I compliment you, Miss Humphreys, on your fine performance this afternoon in the park. Though I confess I am relieved you have seen fit to discontinue it."

Jane's whole body, gracefully bent over her patient a minute before, suddenly went rigid. Carefully she finished wrapping the bandage on the rabbit and laid the animal in the basket. Then she stood.

She did her best to look regal, but it was hard because she knew her head only came up to his shoulder.

"Oh, la, Captain! I do not have the faintest idea what you are talking about. You must be already foxed from the Madeira."

"Give up the attempt to appear hen-witted, Miss Humphreys. You have already let your guard down too often today. I have seen you go from a silly chatterbox to a heroic rabbit rescuer to a healing angel in the space of a few short hours. I saw your interest in the conversation when the topic of the American explorers came up. You could not dissemble then, and I do not know why you are continuing your charade now. Though I may have a good idea," he added, downing the rest of his Madeira.

"Oh, and what is your explanation, pray tell?"

"You want me to think you a fool, so I will lose interest in you. I must tell you, your shenanigans today have had quite the opposite effect."

"Of all the arrogant, conceited--" Jane felt her cheeks grown hot. "You flatter yourself immensely to think I would give you the time of day, much less so much thought as to take up play-acting in an attempt to persuade you to cry off."

Masters' face was innocent. "So then, are you in truth, a veritable ninny-hammer?"

An expression, sounding like steam from a kettle, issued from Jane's lips. She picked up a pillow from the settee and raised it to throw at him.

"I am relieved you chose that weapon," Masters said nonchalantly. "It looks rather soft. Unbreakable, too, I'll be bound."

"Oh!" Jane tossed the pillow back on the settee and snatched a carved wooden elephant sitting atop the pianoforte.

"I wouldn't if I were you," said Masters. "You already have a reputation as something of a rowdy."

She clutched the figurine so hard its trunk snapped. She walked over to the mantel and yanked the bell.

"You rang, Miss?" said Weatherwax, shuffling into the room.

"Lord Masters was just leaving, Weatherwax. Please show him to the door. And pray do not forget to hand him his hat and gloves. He will not be returning."

"Do not distress yourself, dear Miss Humphreys. I will certainly be back to call on you."

"Then you will find me not at home."

"That will be an unfortunate but temporary situation, I am convinced. Soon you will learn to associate 'home' with me."

He bowed with an exaggerated flourish, and followed Weatherwax out. Jane stamped her foot, and then felt immediately contrite when she saw she'd startled her small patient.

She immediately bent over the injured rabbit and stroked its soft fur.

"We'll, see, won't we, Mr. Rabbit?" she said in a soothing tone of voice. "'Home' indeed! I'd sooner burrow with a weasel!"

And that, she decided, was a very good description of the arrogant Viscount.

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