Page 32 of A Dangerous Lord (Regency Spies & Secrets 3)

“You are looking lovely today.”

“Thank you,” she replied, smoothing down her dark blue riding habit.

He found himself taking a step closer to her. “Did Baldwin give you a lecture yesterday?”

“It was nothing more than I could handle.”

Smiling, he replied, “I imagined that would be the case.”

“It was rather impulsive of me to leave the orphanage, but I do not regret my actions,” she said, lowering her voice.

“Did you ask Oliver why he went to The Gutted Fish?”

She shook her head, causing the small curls framing her face to sway back and forth. “Baldwin requested to see Oliver the moment he arrived home.”

“I see.”

The dowager marchioness stepped into the entry hall and a smile came to her lips. “Lord Evan,” she greeted. “What a pleasant surprise.”

He bowed. “Good morning, Lady Hawthorne.”

She came to a stop near her daughter. “Will you be attending Lady Greenan’s ball this evening?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“But you must,” Jane pressed. “I will be so dreadfully bored without you there.”

He grinned. “I don’t believe that to be true.”

Lady Hawthorne gave her daughter an approving look. “I have no doubt that Jane will be inundated with admirers.”

“Is that so?” Corbyn asked as he felt his jaw clenching.

“If Jane would just put forth some effort, she could easily marry by the end of the Season,” Lady Hawthorne said.

Corbyn worked hard to keep the frown off his lips. “Is that what you desire?” he asked Jane. “To marry?”

“No, but my mother wishes for me to take matrimony more seriously.”

Lady Hawthorne bobbed her head. “It is time for her to consider her future.”

Jane offered him a smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Well, if you will excuse me, I am off for my morning ride.”

“I hope you have a pleasant ride,” Corbyn remarked.

“Thank you,” Jane replied.

As Jane walked away, Lady Hawthorne said in a low, hushed voice, “I am worried about Jane.”

“Why is that?”

“She doesn’t seem to have any desire to be courted.”

“Lady Jane is still young,” Corbyn attempted.

Lady Hawthorne’s thin lips pressed together. “She is twenty-one and has never even entertained a suitor.”

“You can’t rush these things.”

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