Free Lord Wraybourne's Betrothed by Jo Beverley

made her heart catch despite what she now knew him to be.
    “You must excuse Lord Randal. He is over-familiar, but it’s permitted because he’s so very decorative.”
    Lord Randal howled his protest at this description. “I won’t have it, David. Pistols at dawn!”
    “Nonsense. You are far too good a shot. But I’ll give you foils this evening before dinner. Marius can judge.”
    “Done. It must be an age since I’ve tried my skill against you. I’ve been learning a few tricks.”
    “You’ll need ’em,” retorted Lord Wraybourne and ignored his friend’s further attempts to argue.
    He offered an arm to Jane, and the stroll continued. Sophie walked behind, in the happy position of having a gentleman on each arm.
    “And what is your opinion of The Middlehouse grounds, Jane?” his lordship asked.
    Jane was feeling a bit confused—by Sophie’s revelations, by his presence, and by the thought that this very evening two young men were going to fight with swords and nobody appeared concerned.
    “Th-they are very . . . elegant,” she stammered.
    “A word chosen with care,” he said with a smile. “Do I gather you do not favor this type of landscape?”
    She glanced up at him and gathered her wits. She had no desire to offend. “Are the grounds of Stenby in this style?”
    “Very diplomatic,” he approved with a grin, “but do not choose your words to please me. As it happens, the park at Stenby has not been ‘improved’ since Tudor times. The few prospects there are have been provided by nature. My father, however, established a herd of deer which you may like.”
    “Oh yes, ” she responded, meeting his amused blue eyes only for a moment before looking away in more confusion. One of hundreds, she reminded herself, and concentrated on a pagoda which had appeared from behind some trees. “A pagoda is some kind of temple, is it not? I wonder why it is built in such an extraordinary style.”
    “I do not know, but I do know that they are not, strictly speaking, temples. They are more a monument than a place of worship. There is a fine one at Kew Gardens in London if you wish to continue your study.”
    “I’m sorry,” Jane said, embarrassed. “I am forever asking why and how.”
    “I think that is excellent,” he said amiably. “I suffer from a greedy and insatiable curiosity myself. At the moment, for example, I am curious about lavender water. Can you tell me anything of that?”
    “Lavender water? Do you wish to make some, My Lord?”
    “I do not think so, though I may wish to know how it is made. I would like to know how many people use it. How many men and how many women? Where it is used, on the linen or on the person? Whether people bathe in it. Anything, in fact, about lavender water.”
    Jane eyed him consideringly. “My mother thinks it effective against headaches. But I believe you are funning, Sir, to excuse me for my excessive curiosity.”
    “Not at all,” he protested. “To prove it I will report back to you with the results of my researches. Now, we are nearly back at the house, you see. All that is left to view is the Italian garden.”
    Jane was amazed to turn a corner in the path and confront a marble faun. She knew what it was, for she had received a smattering of classical knowledge in her education; but the illustration in her book had not been quite like this. It was unashamedly and totally naked with a most particular look in its eyes.
    “My goodness,” she said. Then remembering that she was not a country bumpkin, she rallied. “Are the statues here originals, My Lord?”
    “Copies of originals. Do you like them?”
    He was aware that he was teasing, and yet he couldn’t help himself. Jane looked so delicious in her confusion and he enjoyed seeing the way she responded so gallantly to challenges. In lieu of his primary desire, which was to make love to her, he found this game amusing.
    “I suppose they are educational,” she said with a tolerable degree of