Elizabeth Powell by The Reluctant Rogue Page B

offering would please her?”
    “It might.”
    “Then I will see to it immediately. I sympathize with your sister; I know what it’s like to be the object of a parent’sunrelenting censure.” He cocked his head. “What about you, imp?”
    She started. “Me?”
    “What sort of offerings please you?”
    “You are teasing me again, my lord.”
    “Not at all. You mentioned the trinkets your sister receives, but what do your admirers send you?”
    “My admirers?” she echoed. All she could think of was Augustus Wingate’s trout-like countenance. “I don’t—that is …”
    He stared at her for a moment. His eyes narrowed. “The book does not belong to you, does it?”
    “Why do you say that?” She clutched at the reins as a wave of coldness swept over her.
    “If it did, I suspect you would readily admit to being courted by the gentlemen whose names are listed therein.”
    “What—?” Jane’s heart pounded wildly within the prison of her chest. “You had no right to read it—how dare you!”
    The viscount had the good grace to look ashamed. “I do apologize. I opened it thinking it was yours, that it would provide me with your name, since you would not.”
    Tamerlane snorted and tossed his head until Jane loosened her grip. “Your noble intentions give me little consolation, my lord,” she fumed. He knew.
He knew!
    “I assure you I did not make the connection until now. The names in the book, the fact that your sister must marry a peer, her thoughtful, deliberate manner, and— forgive me—your own lack of visible beaux.”
    Jane’s blush scalded her skin all the way to her hairline.
    “So I must conclude that the book belongs to your sister. How did it come into your possession?”
    Jane’s head snapped up. “I did not steal it.”
    “I never said you did.”
    “My sister feared our mother would find out about it, so she entrusted it to me. And I lost it. And now you know, and everything is ruined!”
    He held up a hand. “Calm yourself. Your secret—and hers—is safe with me. I have no wish to embarrass either of you.”
    She glared at him. “Will you promise me that you will never speak of this to my sister?”
    “I give you my word of honor. You love your sister and would do anything for her. I envy you that.”
    She blinked. “You do?”
    “I have seen too many families torn apart by jealousy or favoritism,” Lord Langley said grimly, “including my own.”
    “You and your brother?”
    “Yes. Alex and I were never allowed to be close. When I think about how many years I wasted hating him, wanting to be like him, I—” He broke off, then shifted in the saddle.
    “I am sorry, my lord,” she said softly.
    A look of pain distorted his handsome features. “Go home to your sister, Miss Jane. Go home, and put your mind at ease.”
    “Thank you.” Jane swallowed around the lump in her throat “I—I was wrong about you, my lord. You are indeed a gentleman.”
    She turned her mount and rode off. Sebastian watched as she and her gray gelding disappeared into the mist, her groom trailing behind. A fey girl on her fey mount … He shook himself. Egad, when had he become prone to such ridiculous flights of fancy? He nudged his mare with his knees and headed for the park gate.
    Imagination or not, astride that long-legged gray, in a close-fitting habit of spruce green wool that turned her huge eyes the color of lichen, Jane Rutledge had looked more like an elfin creature than ever this morning. And where had she learned to ride like that? Few females of Sebastian’s acquaintance could handle a horse of that size with such ease.
    What he found even more odd was the fact that she inspired such trust. It was not like him to share a confidence on the spur of the moment, yet he had told her about Alex. He had never revealed so much of himself to anyone but Nigel and Jace, and he had known them for years. And now he had just imparted something of his own private hell to her. What the devil