Lord Wraybourne's Betrothed by Jo Beverley Read Free Book Online Page A

this woman at all.
    “I was not aware Lord Wraybourne had been the victim of a hunt, Mrs. Danvers,” said Jane with an air of innocence. “Who was in the pack?”
    The lady seemed to catch her breath. Her eyes narrowed, but she said calmly, “Every unwed lady in town, Miss Sandiford, and quite a few of the married ones.”
    Jane would have dearly liked to ask whether the lady included herself in the latter group. An instinct as old as time told her it was so. Nonetheless, she was alarmed by her own impulsively sharp comment. This was no way to impress her betrothed with her sangfroid. Jane was further bewildered by the notion that Lord Wraybourne might have an interest in married women. She had assumed that, even if he was marrying her for her money, a husband chosen by her mother would be upright and faithful. Was that yet another instance of naivety? Had her mother been grossly deceived?
    Such considerations were for later on, however. For the moment Jane must content herself with adding that she was pleased Lord Wraybourne would no longer have the uncomfortable role of quarry. Even so, Mrs. Danvers had the last word.
    “I have always contended the hunt may not be so bad. The capture is the unpleasant part. I am speaking of the fox, of course.”
    Lord Wraybourne led Jane quickly away, his lips twitching with amusement. “Why on earth have you got your claws into Phoebe Danvers? She has a sharp tongue.”
    Jane looked up at him, intending to reply, but found herself suddenly arrested by his face so close to hers. When he became her husband he would expect more than a kiss on the cheek. Those finely shaped lips would be pressed to hers. Just as at Carne, she was unnervingly aware of her body’s reaction to his proximity.
    This would never do. She glanced aside to hide her consternation. The pause had been too long, however, and he asked, with concern, if she was unwell or overtired. At least, he had not guessed the direction of her thoughts. She reassured him hastily, hoping that, as usual, her creamy skin would hide rather than reveal her embarrassment.
    Meanwhile, Lord Wraybourne misunderstood the cause of her discomfort and said with a smile, “You would be wise not to cross swords with such as Mrs. Danvers until you have developed your guard.”
    “You are probably correct,” Jane replied, recovering her wits. “And thank you for raising my status from peevish kitten to swordswoman.”
    He raised her hand and touched it lightly with a kiss. Her second kiss ever, she thought, fighting to control her reaction. She would not become a tongue-tied ninny again.
    “I see you perhaps as a little of each,” he murmured.
    “A kitten with a sword between its teeth?” she replied breathlessly.
    “A tiger cub more like. You have tiger eyes.”
    Jane could feel her heart thudding in a most alarming way, which must surely be visible.
    “I am not sure I would wish to be such a ferocious beast. Especially when I have just been accused of hunting you down.”
    His smile teased. She could hardly see his blue eyes beneath the heavy lids. “Ah, but you are only a baby tiger and what am I? I assure you I am no lamb.”
    Feeling quite dizzy from this exchange of repartée Jane agreed. “Of that I am quite sure, Lord Wraybourne!”
    What was she to do? He seemed to think it his duty to pay these intimate attentions to her. Perhaps it was proper behavior in this circumstance; but, in that case, what was the appropriate response? Her mother had given her no guidance in this.
    Jane’s very acute mind was also making other observations and deductions. The company at The Middlehouse was completely different from anything she had known in her life. The color and laughter, the looks which flitted between ladies and gentlemen—all exuded an aura which Jane could only think of as licentious. She knew she was naive and supposed these people could not possibly be as wicked as they appeared to her. Some of them were quite old, after