Worth Lord of Reckoning by Grace Burrowes Page B

introduce my brothers to any number of eager young beauties without incurring London expenses.”
    Good God, he was serious. He expected her, Francine , to spend hours planning banquets and archery tournaments and picnics and gracious—
    “My nerves are troubling me,” she said, heading for the door before Grey could abandon her to his weeds and mud. “I ask you to take a proper interest in your sister’s welfare, and you fail to act, as usual. What would your father say?”
    That parting shot was low, but Francine had seen too many barons and captains and even squires resume marital bliss with her friends and correspondents. If Grey would not take action to bring Jacaranda home, then Francine would.
    Chapter Five
     
    Jacaranda had known dinner would be informal, because Avery was joining the adults, but Mr. Kettering hadn’t ventured an opinion regarding the most suitable dinner hour.
    So she’d set the time herself.
    He ventured opinions on other topics all throughout the meal. First, the issue was whether Yolanda should have a mount despite her refusal to ride out with her niece. Mr. Kettering allowed as how he couldn’t purchase only Avery a mount, or the girl would think she was being favored. Then the discussion turned to whether one should be allowed to eat dessert if one hadn’t eaten one’s vegetables.
    While Wickie and Miss Snyder stoutly declared sweets should be saved as incentive to finish more nourishing food, Mr. Kettering, abetted by the young ladies, decided sweets should always be served to create a pleasant association with coming to the table generally, and children well fed enough to be eating sweets were hardly in danger of starving.
    Jacaranda sipped her wine—a rare treat—and listened to the conversation without saying much. The food was good and the company congenial, but her day had been long. When the fruit and cheese were removed, she realized the entire table was waiting for her to signal the end of the meal, almost as if she were—
    Well.
    She rose, her chair drawn back by Mr. Kettering. He thanked Wickie and Miss Snyder for the company, kissed Yolanda and Avery on the forehead, and wished them all pleasant dreams. Jacaranda had slipped in behind the children to make her escape when a large, male hand landed on her arm.
    “A word with you, Wyeth, though I don’t suppose I should be calling you plain Wyeth now that we’re dinner companions.”
    “I am plain Wyeth,” she said, frowning pointedly at his hand. “What did you wish to discuss?”
    “I wished to invite you for a stroll in the garden,” he replied, leaving his hand exactly where it was. “The last of the light remains, and I’d like to air a certain topic where nobody can overhear us.”
    That sounded sufficiently ominous that Jacaranda let him usher her from the room.
    “You won’t need a shawl?”
    “Our stroll will be brief.” Then too, her escort had a penchant for lending her his jacket.
    His lips quirked up, though he said nothing, and then Jacaranda was on the back terrace, her hand wrapped around his forearm.
    “You will give my compliments to the kitchen,” he said as they perambulated across the flagstones. “Dinner was excellent and the menu such that both Avery and I found much to enjoy. Please tell Simmons the wines were well chosen, too.”
    “I will pass your praises along.” Of course, she’d chosen the menu and the wines. Still, his appreciation lit a small flame of pleasure in the place inside her that sought notice, a pat on the back every once in a blue moon.
    “Let’s move away from the house. I do not want an audience.”
    “This sounds serious.”
    “Not serious, but sensitive. Or maybe I’m sensitive.”
    Many people assumed—wrongly—that size and sturdy physique precluded sensitivity. She’d been at risk of making the same error where Mr. Kettering was concerned.
    How lowering.
    He walked along beside Jacaranda in the fading light, and to her, he looked as tired as she