Free The Rocking Horse: A Regency Novella by Holly Newman Page A

of the marques on her mind. She looked up to find the marques watching her, an expression of sympathy in his eyes. For some reason that look of sympathy distressed her. She did not want him to feel sympathy for her. She wasn't certain sympathy was needed anywhere! If she had to do it again, she would, and if Mrs. Bayne dissuaded Charles from proposing, well, that was to the better, for she knew now she could never marry him Not now, not when she'd fallen in love with his cousin, whether that regard was returned or not. She could not bear being related to him, seeing him at family functions, and keeping her secret safe and her heart from breaking again and again. But neither did she wish the marques to think her a flirt! Oh, was there never such a coil? Best at least to warn her father.
    "Mrs. Bayne and I had a slight disagreement last night."
    "Disagreement?" her father asked.
    A strangled sound, like a cut-off laugh, came from the marques.
    She lifted her head high. "Hadn't you best take Lady Anne upstairs?"
    She linked her arm in her father's and led him toward one of the parlors. "Yes, I'm afraid I took exception to a few things she said."
    She was gratified to hear the sound of Tarkington's boots on the marble staircase. She relaxed and even allowed herself a small, wry laugh. "All your precepts on political negotiations were wasted, Father. When the moment came to disagree, I found myself blurting it out."
    Sir Jasper Maybrey chuckled and patted her hand. "Mustn't refine too much, my dear. Charles will set things to right. Fine chap. Go far in government if he chooses."
    "The thing is, Father, I'm not so certain I do wish him to set things right."
    "What? What's this?" He cupped her chin in one broad hand.
    She shrugged and pulled her head away. "I don't know, Father. I'm not like you and Mother, you know."
    "Course you're not. Silly thing if you were. You're your own person. What you're feeling is just nerves, puss."
    "But—"
    "Trust your father. Everything will be fine once you see Charles again. Mark my words. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll just peek in on Tarkington's library. Said I might when I met him in the hall. I hear the library here at Bayneville is a veritable archive of world political history." He rubbed his hands together. "If one must be immured in the country, a good political library is just the tick to take the edge off boredom."
    "Yes, Father," Jocelyn said on a soft sigh as she watched him walk away.
    Perhaps she really should take that nap she'd mentioned to Lady Anne. She felt exhausted, wrung out like an old kitchen mop. Slowly she made her way upstairs, but when she got to the top she stopped and stood thinking for a moment. Then with a smile she turned—not toward her own room, but toward Lady Mary's. Maybe she could help her sort out her troubled thoughts.

     
    "Jocelyn! Come in! Come in! So tell me, what have you been up to while I've been confined here? I so chafe at staying in bed. But I am getting better, and Edward will be here tomorrow!"
    "And you must be at your best for Lord Killingham!" Jocelyn sat on the edge of her friend's bed. "While you have been recovering, I've spent time antagonizing Mrs. Bayne, gathering Christmas greenery with Tarkington and Lady Anne, and generally confusing myself."
    "This sounds like quite a story."
    "I don't know about that. If it is a story, it is one without end, and boring at that. Last evening Mrs. Bayne said some dreadful things to Tarkington."
    "I assure you, Jocelyn, it wasn't the first time."
    "Perhaps not, but I could not sit quietly and listen to her malign him in the manner she did."
    "What do you mean?"
    "She doesn't believe he is worthy of his title. She believes he shirks his responsibilities. She doesn't see that, far from shirking his duties to his family and his title, he is fulfilling them beyond what many of his peers do."
    "To be blunt, Jocelyn, my aunt wishes the title for her son. She has always chafed at being one step away from