The Earl, the Vow, and the Plain Jane Page 15

  While David was telling Lady Sarah about some raja's palace, Lord Slade found himself watching Miss Featherstone across the table. How attentive Mr. Poppinbotham was, insisting on serving her and soliciting her opinion on food preferences. Then once the man realized his host was not engaged in conversation, he began to quiz him.

  "I say, my lord, while Miss Featherstone is drawing your castle this afternoon, I thought I'd like to poke about in your library."

  "You are certainly welcome to borrow any book you choose."

  "Have you the writings of this Thomas Paine?"

  "Indeed, I do. I will be happy to find it for you when we return to the castle." Lord Slade met Miss Featherstone's gaze. "I hope you'll allow me to help you bring out your chair or anything else the artist might need."

  `She looked a bit puzzled for a moment. She was aware he had footmen who could provide such a service, but she was her gracious self when she replied, "That would be very kind of you, my lord. Perhaps you will be able to show me from which angle you'd like me to draw Dunvale."

  "You're the artist, my dear Miss Featherstone, but I will endeavor to convey my preferences."

  * * *

  He found The Rights of Man for Poppinbotham while Miss Featherstone raced upstairs to fetch her drawing supplies, then the two were ready to go back outdoors. She carried her sketchbook while he toted one of the folding chairs they had used at the picnic.

  "I have very much enjoyed my stay at Dunvale, my lord. And I must tell you your sisters are a delight. I feel a special affinity for Lady Mary Ann. It's almost as if we've known each other all our lives."

  "She told me she's very fond of you." He laughed. "She even thinks I should wed you!" The woman strolling beside him stiffened at his words. "Forgive me for laughing," he said. "Of course, Mary Ann has good reason to think you'd make me a fine wife. I even agree with her, but you and I know such a thing is not possible."

  She nodded. "Most certainly."

  They strolled across the vast stretch of lawn in silence. When they reached the lake, she took some time getting her perspective. When she decided on it, he set up her chair, and she settled down and began to sketch.

  He cleared his throat.

  She looked up at him. "Yes?"

  "I hoped to have a private word with you today."

  She continued to look up at him with those solemn green eyes. They were very fine, very expressive eyes. "About what?"

  "About Poppinbotham."

  "I see."

  "I'm not really sure you do. Are you aware that the man means to ask for your hand in marriage? "

  Her brows lifted. "Has he told you so?"

  "Yes."

  "I must admit that your announcement is not unexpected."

  "It was really too mean of you to lead on the poor chap. Just because he's not one of us doesn't mean he doesn't have feelings. In fact, I believe he's not only wanting to marry you to help his social climb. I believe the man has really come to care for you."

  "Yes, I had reached quite the same opinion."

  "How can you just sit there looking up at me so innocently? I beg you to consider the poor man's feelings."

  "Oh, I assure you I have, my lord."

  Her words gave him pause. "Whatever can you mean?"

  "I mean that I am not averse to plighting my life to Mr. Poppinbotham."

  He felt as if he'd just been knocked off his feet by a cyclone. His gaze locked with hers, a sizzling anger rising in him. "You cannot possibly be in love with the man!"

  Her lashes lowered. "No, I cannot."

  He dropped down to his knees before her and drew her hands into his, "Then for God's sake, Jane, don't throw yourself away on him." He suddenly realized he'd called her by her Christian name. In his nine and twenty years, he had never slipped in such a manner. At least not with a proper lady.

  Tears gathered in her eyes, but she made no effort to swipe them away. It fairly broke his heart to see her suffer. Almost as much as it broke his heart to think of her lying beside Cecil Poppinbotham.

  "You must understand, my lord, Mr. Poppinbotham is the only man who has ever fallen in love with me. That I am poor and plain should not relegate me to a spinster's life. I should like my own home, my own children. Mr. Poppinbotham can give me those things. And I assure you, he is exceedingly kind to me."

  A surge of powerful emotions stampeded him. She was neither plain nor unloved! By God, a man would be a fool not to love her.

  Jack St. John, the Earl of Slade, had never done a rash thing in his life. Until he drew Miss Featherstone's upper torso into his arms and began to kiss her with a hunger which bowled him over with its intensity.

  Just as surprising as his action was the lady's reaction. She kissed him with the kind of passion he would have thought a spinster like her incapable of. God in heaven, but she felt so sweet in his arms!

  But unlike Mr. Cecil Poppinbotham, Lord Slade was not at liberty to ask for her hand in marriage.

  Because of that wretched Vow.

  With a deep, gnawing ache, he pulled away from the most perfect female he'd ever known. "Forgive me, Miss Featherstone. I had no right." Then he got to his feet and strode away.

  * * *

  Somehow during the next few minutes Jane managed to continue sketching his lordship's home even though tears raced down her cheeks. Why did Lord Slade have to go and spoil everything? She had convinced herself that marrying Mr. Poppinbotham would be very good for her.

  Even if the thought of kissing him was not.

  Why had Lord Slade felt compelled to kiss her? She had never thought him a man who would casually toy with any maiden's affections. He was always the very picture of propriety. Everything about the scene between them a few minutes earlier seemed like something she had dreamed, something that had no basis in reality.

  And, indeed, she had best relegate the memory of it to the same place where abandoned dreams resided.

  Her heartbeat roared. Now that she had been properly kissed by a man with whom she was in love, how could she ever submit to Mr. Poppinbotham's kisses? The very memory of his lordship's kiss made her insides feel like quivering jelly. How wondrous the kiss had been! Dare she even think. . .he desired her in the same way she had always desired him?

  Because of her wanton response to him, Lord Slade was bound to think her a harlot. How could she ever face him again after that searing kiss?

  Even worse, how could she ever consider spending her life with a man whom she could never kiss as she had just kissed Lord Slade?

  Chapter 19

  Were it not for the friendly banter between Captain St. John and Lady Sarah, dinner would have been a grievously somber occasion. Their host had glowered from the head of the table. Even after the meal when they gathered in the drawing room, his lordship hardly spoke.

  More than once she had caught him staring at her, but Jane was always quick to look away. She had been embarrassed over the unexpected intimacy between them. She prayed he would not think her a loose woman, prayed that his good opinion of her–which she knew with certainty she had possessed before the kiss–would not change.

  She was far too intelligent to confuse his good opinion of her with romantic interest. They were two entirely different matters. For reasons she could not understand, something had compelled the earl to kiss her. Even had he not begged her forgiveness, she knew he immediately regretted the action.

  Now they both must forget it. He needed to marry an heiress, and she needed to accept Mr. Poppinbotham because she was quite certain this was her only hope of marrying and becoming a respected matron and mother.

  For despite what had occurred between Lord Slade and her, she was going to accept Mr. Poppinbotham. She must.

  * * *

  Slade might be sitting at the head of the dinner table, but he was certainly not presiding over the table. No one could have been a worse host. No one else could feel as forlorn has he did that night. He could not bring himself to offer a single comment. Sinc
e he'd been overcome with the incredible yearning to kiss Jane Featherstone, he felt his life--and that of his loved ones--in shambles.

  What had possessed him to act so contrary to everything he had ever believed? He'd believed he would never question his duty. His duty was to save Dunvale because he had promised his father. His duty was to see three sisters properly dowered. That latter duty he could do by depriving himself of certain things that could be had with money, but no amount of economizing would ever net enough funds for Dunvale. Marrying an heiress was the only way that could be accomplished. And that would most certainly deprive him of true love.

  He now knew he could never proclaim himself in love with Lady Sarah. He'd given that other vow to Jane Featherstone that he wouldn't propose to Lady Sarah unless he could declare himself in love with her.

  And he could never tell such a monstrous lie.

  All afternoon, Jane had dominated his every thought. Jane and the passionate kiss that had consumed them both like a raging wildfire. The very memory of it caused his breath to hitch, caused his body to ache with the need to hold her once more in his arms.

  Slade's haunted gaze fell on her when she passed Poppinbotham the stewed eel and spoke in her sweet voice to the Buffoon. Something inside Slade exploded. He suddenly realized he was in love with Jane. Truly. Madly. Deeply.

  And there was nothing he would ever be able to do about it.

  When the stewed eel reached him, he passed it on. Each dish he passed on. He moved the small bit of food on his plate around and around but was incapable of eating.

  Near the end of the meal the door to the dining chamber swung open with a great deal of noise. All eyes went to the doorway where Alex had come to a stop, his booted legs planted, his eyes glittering, and a teasing smile on his face.

  Now Slade spoke. "What the devil brings you here?"

  "I was compelled to share my good fortune with one of my dearest friends--as well as with my benefactor." Alex eyed Poppinbotham.

  "Pray," Slade said, "what is your good fortune?"

  "I've won."

  Poppinbotham's eyes widened. "You beat that Darrington-Chuff?"

  A smile stretching all the way across his face, Alex nodded. "Indeed. With the money you so kindly supplied, Mr. Poppinbotham, I was able to woo far more voters than I needed, and I'm happy to say many of them were defectors from Darrington-Chuff's camp."

  Finally, something for which to cheer. A wide smile on his face, Slade stood, crossed the room, and heartily shook his old friend's hand. "This is wondrous news indeed." He turned back to his guests. "This calls for celebration."

  David leapt to his feet. "I'll show the footmen where Papa stored his best champagne."

  "An excellent idea," Slade said. How was it David always knew more about Dunvale and its contents than he did?

  Moments later, the champagne had been poured and glasses lifted. "I offer a toast," Slade began, "to my dear friend Lord Alex who will be one of the finest Parliamentarians Britain has ever known."

  A smiling David shook his head in protest, but everyone else chugged down the champagne.

  "Another round," Slade ordered.

  When another round of glasses were filled, he said--even though it stung to praise the man who would marry the woman Slade loved, "To Cecil Poppinbotham for his willingness to learn about and support all Whig causes with his great generosity."

  Poppinbotham was not as modest as Alex had been. He drank to his own toast and not once shook his head.

  "You must come partake of food with us," Slade said to Alex.

  "I cannot. As you see, I'm still in my boots."

  Slade shrugged. "It matters not. We're almost finished, and you must be famished. Have you come all the way from Blythstone?"

  "I have." Alex did move to the side chair a footman had wedged between Slade and Diana. Another footman set a plate in front of him, and he began to pile it with food that had lamentably grown cold.

  "I wish Wycliff were here to celebrate with us," Slade said. "It will be just like it used to be at Eton. The three of us together, the three of us always working in unison."

  "And," Jane said, peering at him, "I believe this time it will be even more rewarding."

  Slade's gaze connected with hers. Neither could look away. His gut plummeted. He trembled. He nodded.

  Then he looked away.

  * * *

  Before they retired for the night, Mr. Poppinbotham addressed her. "I beg, Miss Featherstone, that you will do me the honor in the morning of walking to the lake with me."

  Her heartbeat drummed. She knew the purpose of their solitary walk. "I should be honored, Mr. Poppinbotham." Before she turned away and began to climb the stairs, she saw that Lord Slade was watching her.

  And listening.

  That night she closed the heavy velvet curtains tightly around her bed, and then she lay there in the total darkness. Even the thick curtains could not keep out the night's morose sounds. Winds howled. Rain fell in lusty sheets. And the logs in her fire spit, crackled, and collapsed time after time.

  While she wept.

  She hadn't wept since her mother died when she was a little girl. Tonight she felt that same, horrifying sense of loss. It was entirely too cruel that on the verge of committing herself to a man who would wed her, she had a taste of what it was like to be with the man she loved, the man she could never marry. She had always known that Lord Slade was far, far above her touch.

  And nothing had changed.

  Except the kiss.

  Now she would unite herself to a man she did not love. Never again would she experience a shattering kiss like she'd experienced that day.

  Chapter 20

  The rains stopped at dawn, and a few hours later, a bright sun appeared. If she wore boots instead of slippers, Jane supposed she could still walk with Mr. Poppinbotham this morning. They must have a care to stay on the lawns and avoid any dirt paths which were sure to be quagmires of mud.

  She donned her warmest woolen dress for it had become chilly, and she selected her red cloak to wear when they departed after breakfast. Though she made every effort to contrive to fashion her hair attractively, she knew she failed. She stared into the mirror at her dowdy reflection and lamented that she was no beauty like her cousin. I am very lucky that one man in the kingdom wishes to honor me with a proposal of marriage.

  She would never have another chance.

  As she descended the stairs, her thoughts raced ahead so fast, she could barely isolate one when another cropped up. The worst part about accepting Mr. Poppinbotham was going to be announcing the decision to Papa. He did not perceive that his cherished only daughter failed to attract men. And, of course, he would have wished for her to marry a man who was more of their world, a man more well read than the prosperous businessman who wished to claim her hand.

  But she was of age. She did not need her father's approval to marry.

  Telling Papa was not the worst thing about accepting Mr. Poppinbotham. Resigning herself to a life without romantic love was worse. She wondered what it would feel like to have a man like Lord Slade wish to marry her.

  Lamentably, with that thought in mind, she faced Mr. Poppinbotham as she entered the morning room, where they gathered for breakfast.

  Once again, Lady Sarah–fetching in pale blue muslin–was talking and laughing with Captain St. John, and once again, Lord Slade brooded. How distressing it must be to him that the lady he wished to marry was more comfortable with his brother than with him.

  Throughout breakfast she avoided looking at Mr. Poppinbotham. It was not the poor man's fault that his appearance did not please her. She kept schooling herself to regard him as the well-intentioned man who wished to honor her with his name and fortune. I must not be disappointed that he is not handsome. Nor should I be disappointed that his intelligence is not great. The man was possessed of many fine qualities. He was a hard worker who had built his own fortune, which was a lot more than she could say about any other man of
her acquaintance. He was serious about bettering his station in life. He was neither afraid to admit when his knowledge was lacking, nor was he averse to asking for advice. A most admirable quality, to be sure. Above all, as she had told his lordship, he was exceedingly kind to her.

  She smiled to herself. Her Papa would at least be gratified over that.

  After breakfast, with assistance from Mr. Poppinbotham, she donned her cloak. "I am happy to see you've worn boots today, Miss Featherstone. I daresay it's muddy out there. And cool, too."

  She slipped her arm through his. "Yes, it was a very cold night."

  They left the castle keep, crossed the courtyard, walked over the wooden planks of the former drawbridge, and soon they were strolling along the grass which squished beneath their feet from the relentless rains of the previous night.

  "Did the foul weather impede your sleep?" he asked.

  "Yes." That and other things. "I hardly closed my eyes all night."

  He patted her hand. "I am distressed to hear that, but I admit, it was the same with me."

  The touch of his hand was nothing like the touch of Lord Slade's hand. Oh, the devil take it! She must quit thinking about Lord Slade, must drive thoughts of their kissing and touching from her mind. Forever.

  For some unaccountable reason, she did not wish for silence. If they kept up casual conversation, she could postpone the regretted inevitable, that inevitable proposal she must accept.

  "How are you liking Dunvale Castle, Mr. Poppinbotham?"

  "I keep pinching myself to see that Cecil Poppinbotham is really the guest in a castle owned by an earl! If only my dear mother were alive so as I could tell her."

  Jane laughed. Mr. Poppinbotham might be forty, but in some ways he could be refreshingly childlike.

  "Tell me, how is your drawing of the castle progressing?"

  How could she tell him she had not been able to draw for more than a few minutes because Lord Slade's kiss had so completely shattered her? "I, um, couldn't seem to get the right perspective. Perhaps I can try again this afternoon."