“He seems to be a…a great-grandson to be proud of. All the same, even though you are posing as his sister, I beg you will be careful how you behave with him. It seems young ladies in the future have little care for their reputations, but if you are going to be with us for some time, I should not like to see yours besmirched.”
“You’re a dear, Charlotte. With you to teach me, I shall do very well.”
“I shall do my best. You already speak much more as we do than you did at first.”
Jodie explained her interest in the Regency period. Charlotte was astonished that Jodie was a serious historian, and fascinated by the notion that her own times were the foundation for a whole genre of romantic novels. She confessed to a weakness for Minerva Press romances.
“It was Emily’s idea to read Voltaire.” Charlotte sighed. “She is much cleverer than I, but I fear it will do her no good with Lord Thorncrest. Gentlemen do not appreciate intelligence in a female.”
Discussion of that interesting subject was postponed, as Emily and Giles returned. Giles’s fair hair was ruffled, his blue eyes alight with excitement. Jodie found his enthusiasm endearing. If she had to be marooned in the past, there was no one she had rather be marooned with.
“I’m certain that’s it,” he told her. “The rods are built into the walls and they must still be there in our time. It’s a most unusual configuration, with all of them grounding not more than two meters from where the accelerator will be. We were standing directly between the two! A thunderstorm produces enormous currents so a direct hit… I must get my papers.”
~ ~ ~
Giles was ensconced in the library, from which he had to be pried like a winkle from its shell at mealtimes. The servants, told that he was a scientific gentleman, regarded him with a sort of awed indulgence that amused Jodie.
Charlotte had much the same attitude towards him. He was exempted from the rigorous instruction in etiquette to which she subjected Jodie. Jodie had to admit that his education as an English gentleman, together with the greater license permitted the male sex, probably justified Charlotte’s trust.
On the other hand, her own knowledge of history helped her to learn quickly. She kept notes on everything, both to refresh her memory next day and for future use. Naturally graceful, she mastered curtsying with ease, much as she disapproved of the practice. Though she fell into bed exhausted and slept like a log, she woke next morning confident of her ability to deceive Roland and Lord Thorncrest.
In fact, despite Charlotte’s lessons on the submissive behaviour proper to a young lady, Jodie was eager to cross swords with both gentlemen.
As the morning passed, Emily grew more and more agitated It was almost a relief when at last the footman popped his head round the living room door to announce: “His lordship’s carriage is come, my lady.”
“Thank you, Frederick.” Charlotte rose, looking anxious. “Pray inform Mr. Faringdale. Jodie, you and Giles wait here as we arranged. Come, Emily.”
“They cannot bite your head off,” Jodie whispered to Emily, squeezing her hand. “Be brave.”
Emily gave her a quavering smile and reluctantly trailed out into the hall after her sister-in-law as the footman went through the connecting door to the library to warn Giles.
Jodie very much wanted to watch the meeting. She contented herself with standing by the hall door so that she could see Charlotte and Emily but not be seen by the gentlemen, she hoped. To her surprise, Roland’s greeting to his wife and sister sounded genuinely solicitous, if fussy. He kissed their cheeks, moving into Jodie’s line of sight. Hastily she stepped back—and landed on Giles’s foot.
“Ouch!” he whispered, steadying her. “What are we being surreptitious about?”
“I want to listen without being seen,” she whispered back, moving forward again. “Hush.”
“Nosy. Come and sit down like a good girl.”
If his firm hand on her arm was not enough to persuade her, at that moment Lord Thorncrest straightened from bowing to Emily and caught her eye in a mirror she had not noticed. He raised one black eyebrow.
Jodie instantly yielded to Giles’s tug and retreated, pink-cheeked.
“Drat,” she said, sitting beside him on a sofa by the fire, “I wanted to hear what Charlotte said about us. I’m afraid the earl saw me.”
“Serves you right for eavesdropping. Don’t worry, it won’t spoil our story. He’ll just think you an inquisitive young lady. Correctly.”
She pulled a face at him and he grinned.
Warned by footsteps, they stood up as Charlotte led her husband into the drawing room, followed by Emily and Lord Thorncrest. Jodie carefully avoided looking at the earl.
Curtsying to the present Lord Faringdale, she examined him with interest. The resemblance to the future Lord Faringdale was immediately obvious, though Roland was shorter than Giles, stockier, his eyes a paler blue and his hair a darker blond. He wore a worried expression like a badge of office—here was the head of the family, a man with weighty problems on his mind.
Perhaps because the addition of new family members increased the consequence of his position, he accepted Charlotte’s introductions with complacency.
“How d’ye do, Miss Judith.” He bowed to Jodie, then shook Giles’s hand. “Cousin, I’m happy to make your acquaintance. From the Colonies, my wife tells me. Former colonies, I should say. Thorncrest, allow me to present my American cousins.”
Jodie almost gasped as she curtsied to the earl. He was startlingly handsome, dark, with an arrogant nose, cynical mouth and determined chin. Hair as black as her own curled crisply and his piercing eyes held a disturbing glint. Bowing, he raised one eyebrow quizzically in an intentional reminder that she had been caught snooping. To her intense annoyance, she felt herself blush.
No wonder poor Emily was out of her depth. Jodie saw that she had taken a seat in an out-of-the-way corner, her head bowed over a piece of embroidery.
Jodie had no intention of being intimidated. “How do you do, my lord,” she said sweetly, before adding a deliberate provocation. “You are an earl? We have abolished titles in the States, of course. Cousin Charlotte explained your English feudal system, but I fear I have forgotten—you are one rank above a duke, are you not?”
“Two below, Miss Judith,” he replied promptly, looking amused rather than angry at being forced to admit his relative unimportance.
Roland, however, was as disconcerted as if a kitten had opened its mouth and roared like a lion, and Charlotte sent Jodie a glance of appeal.
“Why, Jodie, I’m surprised you do not remember,” Giles intervened, his voice full of barely suppressed laughter. He went on, “My sister has the greatest admiration for the English peerage. She’s been begging me for years to bring her to see our ancestral home.”
“Nonsense, Giles,” said Jodie indignantly, “you were just as keen as I.”
Giles and Lord Thorncrest laughed, while Roland frowned. Jodie saw the viscount glance at Emily, alarmed lest she be tempted to emulate this piece of sisterly impertinence. Quiet in her corner, she did not appear to have heard.
Lord Thorncrest took the offensive. “Miss Judith, your speech is very different from your brother’s. Your American accent is much stronger than Mr. Faringdale’s, if you will forgive my mentioning it.”
As if an American accent were an unmentionable disease, Jodie fumed, but she had no ready answer. Charlotte, too, looked blank.
Once again, Giles stepped into the breach. “I was lucky enough as a child to have an English governess,” he said, his eyes daring Jodie to disavow his words. “Unfortunately, she returned home before Jodie was old enough to profit by her example.”
“Ah, I see,” the earl murmured, adding just loud enough for Jodie to hear, “no doubt that is sufficient explanation for her…manners.”
Jodie had to admit to herself that he had drawn first blood. Worse was to come. Charlotte, in an attempt to forestall further questions about the differences between brother and sister, launched into an explanation of Jodie’s supposed Red Indian ancestry.
By the time she finished her noble effort, Roland looked distinctly uneasy. Lord Thorncrest merely raised his quizzing glass and studied Jodie with a sardonic air.
~ ~ ~
“For all the world as if I were a savage!” Jodie stormed to Emily. The gentlemen had gone up to remove their travel dirt, Charlotte accompanying her husband, and Giles had returned to the library.
“It makes me want to run away when he looks at me like that,” Emily confessed.
“It makes me want to hit him, the MCP.”
“MCP?”
“Male chauvinist pig. What a pity that he is so handsome it takes your breath away.”
“I do not care for dark men,” said Emily positively. “Let us not talk about him. It makes me feel ill. Tell me what a male chauv—chauvinist?—pig is.”
“All right, but come over by the fire. I’m cold.” She led the way to the sofa by the fireplace.
Their discussion of the characteristics of the species lasted until the gentleman who had initiated it rejoined them. As he crossed the room, Jodie noted that his physique was as devastating as the face that had mesmerized her at first sight. Tall, broad-shouldered, lithe, he moved with the powerful grace of a mountain lion. The understated elegance of his close-fitting blue coat, modest shirt points, neat but plain cravat, and fawn pantaloons merely accentuated the virile strength within.
Quite a hunk, but she’d be damned if she’d let him know it.
Emily made a move as if to stand up and curtsy. Jodie’s mind raced over Charlotte’s etiquette instructions. Lord Thorncrest was both older and of higher rank, but as a suitor surely he did not rank such a courtesy. Jodie put her arm about Emily’s waist and held her down.
“A sight as charming as it is improbable.” The earl stood by the hearth, regarding them with a lazy smile. “Beauty and friendship combined.”
“Improbable?” enquired Jodie.
“In my experience, beauty gives rise to jealousy more often than to amity.”
“Then I must assume that you are flattering us, sir, when you call us beautiful, since our friendship is most sincere.”
He laughed. “On the contrary, Miss Judith. I said improbable, not impossible. May I be seated, Miss Faringdale?”
“Of c-course, my lord,” Emily stammered, crimsoning. “I…we…Luncheon will be served shortly.”
“I am delighted to hear it. I find that travelling always gives me an appetite, do not you?”
“Yes. No. I mean….”
Jodie came to the rescue. “Do you live far from here, my lord?”
“Some thirty miles, ma’am. A mere nothing to one who has crossed the Atlantic Ocean.”
Anxious to avoid questions about the nonexistent voyage, Jodie interrogated Lord Thorncrest about the state of the roads, the type of carriage he drove, the countryside through which he had passed.
“I cry mercy, Miss Judith,” he protested at last. “It is plain that you are an eager student of all things English.”
“If one does not learn from the experience, there is little point in travelling.” In space or time, Jodie added silently. “I shall keep a journal that will be both interesting and useful when I return home.”
“Then you mean to go back to America. That will be a great loss to all of us, will it not, Miss Faringdale?”
“Oh yes!”
He raised his expressive eyebrows at the fervour of Emily’s response. She flushed again, and took a sudden, intense interest in her embroidery.
Charlotte and Roland came in, followed by Frederick who announced that a cold luncheon was served in the morning room. They proceeded thither, and the ladies were seated while the gentlemen served them from the array of cold meats and pies, cheeses and fruits. Jodie would have preferred to help herself, particularly when she saw the delicate portions Lord Thorncrest considered suited to a ladylike appetite.
The gentlemen sat down.
“Potter, where is Mr. Giles?” enquired Roland, displeased. “I trust Frederick did not fail to inform him?”
“Certainly not, my lord.” The butler was offended at the suggestion that his underling might be derelict in his duty. “Mr. Giles requested a tray in the library, being, I understand, at a crucial point in his calculations.”
“Cousin Giles is prodigious dedicated to his science,” said Charlotte anxiously.
“Ah yes, of course.” Presented with a sufficient reason for the defection from his board, Roland was restored to equanimity. “What precisely is your brother studying, cousin?” he asked Jodie.
“Electricity. Pray do not ask me more, for I am sure it is beyond my poor brain to understand it. Giles is a disciple of Mr. Benjamin Franklin.”
“Which no doubt accounts for his curious costume,” murmured Lord Thorncrest sotto voce.
“Giles has more important matters on his mind than fashion.” Jodie was annoyed.
“I beg your pardon, Miss Judith.” The earl sounded more amused than contrite. “I spoke without thinking and meant no disrespect for your brother. Forgive me and smile on me, for your frown quite dashes me to the ground.”
He continued to flatter her in an ironical way throughout the meal. Jodie discovered the pleasures of a light flirtation with an expert. Much to her annoyance she learned that a male chauvinist pig could, if he tried, make one feel delightfully feminine.
Chapter Four
Jodie was in Emily’s dressing room, trying to decide which gown to borrow to wear for dinner, when Charlotte came in.
“Emily, I have persuaded Roland not to press for a formal betrothal until you have had time to come to know Thorncrest a little better. It is the best I can do. He is quite adamant that you shall marry him in the end.”
“Bless you, Charlotte.” Emily hugged her sister-in-law. “Who knows what may happen in a week or two. Perhaps he will decide he does not like me after all. He certainly acts as if he likes Jodie better.”
There was no jealousy, only hope, in her voice. Nonetheless, Jodie was beginning to form a plan to improve relations between the two.
Lord Thorncrest was impatient with Emily’s timidity, and amused by Jodie’s boldness. Therefore Emily must learn to stand up for herself. On the other hand Emily was dead to the earl’s undoubted charm, but if Jodie continued to encourage him to show his better side surely Emily would come to recognize it. And if, meanwhile, Lord Thorncrest made plain a decided preference for Jodie, it would be only natural for Emily to begin to feel a bit envious, if not outright jealous.