sat some distance away, stabbing with her embroidery needle at a tambour frame.
At Diana’s entrance, Jared rose and escorted her to a comfortable armchair near the settee.
“Ah, Miss Bavister. So pleased you could join us.” This with a satirical lift of his eyebrows. “I understand Miss Bledsoe has been showing you a little of the countryside. Very charming this time of year.”
“Yes, indeed, my lord,” contributed the governess in a tremulous voice. “And in our travels we met Lord Stedford, out to take the air, you know. He seemed quite taken with our guest,” she simpered.
“Umph,” was the earl’s only response.
“You do not like the viscount, my lord?” inquired Diana, managing to convey in her tone that the world seemed inordinately full of persons who did not meet with Lord Burnleigh’s approval.
Jared frowned.
“I barely know the fellow. My impression is that he’s a rum touch if ever I met one, but then, as I’m sure you will agree. Miss Bavister, first impressions can so often be misleading.”
Diana felt herself flushing, but she lifted her chin as she replied. “You are so right, my lord. It is refreshing to hear such a sentiment upon your lips.”
Here Lady Teague took issue.
“I do not know what you can mean, Jared. The circumstances of his coming to Silverwell are, of course, unfortunate, but the viscount is a very nice young man.” Diana interrupted diffidently.
“Excuse me, my lady, but Lord Chamford mentioned something about the trouble at Silverwell. I—I would not like to say something untoward to Lord Stedford out of ignorance ...” She finished her sentence with a questioning lift of her brows.
“Oh, not trouble, really—that is, not precisely,” said Lady Teague.
She launched into a somewhat disjointed explanation. “You see, the old viscount—Charles—was a great friend of Papa’s. He had three sons. The youngest became estranged from the family many years ago and ran away to America. He died there not long after. He was always a sickly lad, and, of course, the climate in the Colonies is notoriously unhealthy. His lordship’s wife passed away not long afterwards.”
Lady Teague’s eyes filled with easy tears. “He felt her loss keenly. Then, a few years ago, the two remaining sons and their families perished in a boating accident. The old viscount was devastated. He never did regain his health, and he passed away last fall. With all his sons gone, the title and the estate—which was considerable, Lord Stedford being a very warm man, as they say—went to his great-nephew, Ninian. Papa took the whole thing very badly. I don’t think he has yet received the poor boy. It’s really too bad. I mean, it’s not the young man’s fault if—well ...” She broke off and twisted to face the earl. “I don’t care what you say, Jared, Lord Stedford is in everything unexceptionable. His manner, his bearing . . .”
“Yes, Aunt, one would have to agree that he is charming, handsome, and dresses with extreme, er, élan.” Lissa sat up very straight at that. “I think he is dashing!” she said abruptly.
“Throwing down the gauntlet, Lissa?” Jared smiled. “I am quite ready to admit that he is the fulfillment of a schoolgirl’s dream.” Lissa pouted.
“But not, I trust,” continued Jared, a slight edge to his voice, “the fulfillment of your particular dreams.”
Lissa’s cheeks flamed, and she tossed her head.
“I have outgrown schoolgirl fantasies,” she sniffed.
“I’m pleased to hear that,” her brother retorted. “I hope, then, that we will not have a repeat of your disgraceful behavior at Tunbridge Wells. I understand that you embarked on a desperate flirtation with at least three of the military men stationed there.”
“Well, really, Jared!” Lissa fairly leaped from her chair in indignation, and she shot an accusing glance at Miss Bledsoe. “You have no right to interfere in my— that is, are