Andrea Pickens - [Lessons in Love 01] Read Free

even like above half! You of all people, who I know made a love match with Mama, and even today refuse to remarry because of her, despite all your mistresses..."
    His hand lashed through the air, veering only at the last minute from her cheek to slap down against the desk. The blow was so violent that it knocked the inkwell to the floor, the shattering of glass stunning both of them into a shocked silence. The only sound between them was their own ragged breathing until the duke recovered his resolve.
    "Never speak to your father thus, young lady. Your temper and your language only reinforce that I am doing the right thing, so listen carefully to me. There will be no Season in Town, no routs, no balls, no theatre—nothing!—until you see reason. From now on, you will not leave Avanlea until you leave it as the bride of the Duke of Branwell. And I am sending Thomas away to London tomorrow morning so you may contemplate in solitude the folly of your past behavior. It is to be hoped that in three week's time, the date for which I have invited Branwell to make an extended visit here, you will have come to your senses."
    Jane made a horrified little gasp.
    "And don't think to sweeten me up on this. I vow to you that I will not change my mind. It is time to grow up and be a dutiful daughter, and obey your father. You must trust that I know what is best for you."
    Jane turned her head slightly so he would not see the tears welling up in her eyes. It was, after all, the only vestige of pride that she had left, not to fall at his feet in sobs. That her dear father had nearly struck her, that he thought her shameless and a burden was almost too much to bear. But she refused to cry in front of him and show him how deeply he had wounded her.
    "You have made yourself quite clear, sir," she replied tonelessly. "May I have your leave to go now?"
    He nodded, restraining the urge to gather her in his arms and comfort her as he had done so many times in the past. She looked so miserable and forlorn as she turned to go that his heart gave a wrench. He prayed that his sister had been correct, that he was doing the right thing.
    * * *
    Jane raced blindly down the corridor, only vaguely aware of where she was or the sympathetic glances from the servants. She only knew that she had to make it to the front door, to the fresh air, to her horse.
    Once mounted, with her stallion striding out in full gallop over the broad meadows of the estate, she finally gave way to her tears. They stung her face as the wind whipped at them. Her sobs mingled with the thudding of the hooves, creating a symphony of despair that she felt to her very heart. No one had a right to break her spirit, she told herself. No one! And yet she felt so alone, so small against the censure of her father, her family, the rules of Society.
    Was there anyone who would understand how she felt?
    There was Nanna. Or, more properly Miss Nancy Withers, who had come to Avanlea with the young slip of a girl who had been Jane's mother. Nanna, who had been her mother's nurse, who had followed her young mistress to serve as nurse to a new generation of children and who, by unspoken agreement of everyone in the household, had remained after the death of Jane's mother to keep a watchful eye on the two children, even long after they were out of the nursery.
    It was to Nanna that a frightened and confused eight-year-old girl had run to when the vast house suddenly fell silent and cold, then filled with a sea of black-clad adults who spoke in low voices to her Papa. It was Nanna who slowly coaxed a little sunshine back into all their lives, sharing picnics by the river, getting gloriously muddy hunting for polliwogs along its shallow banks, and even sparking the first laugh from their father by loosing a barnyard cat into the inner sanctum of Mrs. Greenwell's kitchen. Oh, how they had all had to stifle their merriment at the look on that august personage's face on seeing a muddy ball of fur plopped on