Free Lord Wraybourne's Betrothed by Jo Beverley Page A

composure.
    She carefully studied each group, and he was proud to see that no blush betrayed embarrassment. He was still ignorant of the masking effect of her creamy skin. Jane, by contrast, felt as if her face was burning as she maintained her insouciance.
    “If clothed,” she remarked of one goddess, “that woman would appear fat.”
    “Indeed,” he responded. “Imagine her in very high-waisted silk. She would rival the Princess of Wales.”
    Jane was betrayed into a giggle. “Is she truly so large? But it only goes to show that in former times the princess would have been elevated to goddess.”
    “In fact, she would have fitted in excellently on Mount Olympus. The ancient gods had just such an earthy lust for life as Caroline shows.”
    The more erotic groupings received no comment from her, only a pensive scrutiny. Lord Wraybourne thought she showed admirable composure. Actually, Jane was bewildered and could not imagine what the statues were supposed to be doing. Whatever it was, it looked most uncomfortable. Meanwhile, an urchin playing with a fish met with her condemnation.
    “I cannot like that at all. He is not catching the fish to eat but to torment it. The head gardener’s boy at the Abbey is just such a one.”
    He wondered what she would say of the fountain made by two little boys urinating.
    After a moment’s consideration, she merely remarked, “I suppose we should be grateful it is not a drinking fountain.” Jane was, after all, country bred and had not been totally shielded from all the realities of life.
    Lord Wraybourne laughed softly, well pleased with his betrothed. He had not regretted his impulsive offer for Jane. He was sure she was adequate to be his bride, but he had wondered occasionally, in the weeks between the betrothal and this visit, whether he might ultimately find her boring. Now, he did not think that likely. For her part, Jane was delighted to find she could speak her mind without fear of censure for the first time in her life.
    “I’m grateful my father did not see this garden before he left,” she said. “He would doubtless have wanted to take me straight back to Carne.”
    Lord Wraybourne looked down at her. “It is in my power to prevent that, I believe. You needn’t concern yourself over such matters again, Jane.”
    “But they are my parents,” she protested.
    “And must be obeyed? But you will shortly promise to obey me. I think I will claim precedence, and I command you to enjoy yourself.”
    “In any way I please?” she asked, astonished.
    “Yes.”
    Jane looked away. He became more strange and unpredictable with each passing moment. Was this perhaps a test of her high principles?
    “That is rather foolhardy, My Lord,” she said. “Who knows what I might be about.”
    “Ah, but I didn’t say the command was infinite. If you go too far, I will stop you.”
    Jane had been obedient all her life but the idea that she would be completely subject to this man’s will roused a flash of rebellion. She faced him. “Will you, indeed!”
    He smiled. He had wondered just how docile she really was. He was pleased to find the answer to be—not very.
    “Of course. Do you doubt it?”
    “Until we are married,” Jane said boldly, “I will do as I please, under the guidance of Lady Harroving, of course.”
    She watched him warily. Her first protest had been instinctive. Now she was having to struggle to maintain a posture which went so strongly against her training.
    He did not seem concerned. “Very well. But be guided by Sophie also. Of the two of them she probably has more sense of decorum. Randal and Marius will stand as your friends too. Randal is a rattle and not always to be depended on, but Marius is a rock. If you need help when I am not by, apply to him.”
    Jane was amazed that her rebellion had been taken so calmly, and, on consideration, this worried her more than it reassured. If what she considered outrageous was perceived as normal, she obviously