My Lord Winter Read Free Page B

impenetrable we were hard put to find your vast mansion.”
    “Hardly impenetrable, Miss Brooke, since you have penetrated it.” He raised supercilious eyebrows at his butler.
    “The mist does seem to have thickened, my lord,” admitted that individual with evident reluctance.
    Jane returned to the attack. “Miss Gracechurch, the lady with whom I am travelling, cannot go a step farther.” From the corner of her eye she saw Gracie suddenly lean heavily on Mr. Selwyn’s arm with a failing expression. “And her maid has a shocking cold.”
    For a moment she was afraid she had done it too brown as Ella’s prompt sneeze emerged, intermixed with a giggle. However, the earl, uninterested in a mere maidservant, was regarding Miss Gracechurch with a slight frown.
    “Forgive me, ma’am,” he said to her abruptly. “I have no desire to figure as an inhospitable misanthrope. Bradbury will see to your comfort.” He turned away.
    The butler stared after his master in dismay, his mouth opening and closing as if he wished to ask for elucidation but didn’t quite dare. Jane bit her lip. The poor man must be wondering whether Gracie was to be offered a chair or a bedchamber, not to mention what he was to do with the rest of the uninvited visitors.
    Jane was perfectly prepared to assume command, but before his lordship had taken more than two strides he was stopped by an imperious voice.
    “Wintringham!” The elderly lady’s gown of grey figured silk, lavishly embellished with Valenciennes to match her lace cap, suggested widowhood. Despite the formal way she addressed his lordship, Jane guessed she must be the dowager countess, though they had no features in common but the coldness of their gaze. “Wintringham, who are these...” she raised a lorgnette and studied the interlopers with austere disapprobation “...these persons?”
    “Stranded travellers, ma’am. The fog is become impassable. I feel compelled to offer the hospitality of the Abbey.”
    “Indeed! And am I to have no say in my own house?”
    “Naturally, ma’am, you will wish to instruct Bradbury as to which accommodations are to be prepared for our...guests.”
    Short of arguing with his lordship before their inferiors, the countess had little choice but to comply. Neatly manoeuvred! Jane nearly applauded. She caught Mr. Selwyn’s eye and saw that he found the situation decidedly entertaining. He patted Gracie’s hand. Gracie was struggling with mixed emotions, caught between amusement and trepidation.
    Curtsying to Lady Wintringham, Jane said, “We are in sore straits, my lady. It is excessively kind of you to take us in. As you see, we are seven passengers, and the unfortunate coachman is waiting outside with our bags and three horses.”
    “Allow me to present Miss Jane Brooke, ma’am,” said the earl. “Miss Brooke appears to be the appointed spokeswoman.”
    Was that a glint of mockery in his eyes, or merely irritation? Before Jane could make up her mind, he excused himself, bowed, and strode away.
    * * * *
    Edmund Neville, Earl of Wintringham, was aware only of irritation. He retired to his library to brood over the invasion of his home led by an impudent young woman whose blue eyes had seemed to laugh at him. He’d have been inclined to throw them all out to fend for themselves but for the opportunity they offered to thwart her ladyship for once. Nothing would persuade the dowager to brangle with him in public.
    Also, he had felt sorry for the older female—Churchill? No, Gracechurch. She was obviously exhausted and she looked respectable, probably a gentlewoman come down in the world. The rest he dismissed as a horde of Cits.
    Not that anything could be worse than the house party presently assembled at the Abbey, he thought bitterly. He had invited Fitz for a little light relief, and Fitz had turned up with his very pregnant wife, who ought to be decently secluded at home, and her sister. The reason was all too plain to Edmund: the