Page 73 of Brave New Earl (The Way to a Lord's Heart 1)

“I’ll be clever as a fox, wily as…can be,” Jean told him. She’d arrange matters just as she wished, find the perfect place and time for secret passion. And then she would know many delicious, important things. After that, well, she would see. She lay down again, head full of the memory of kisses and imaginings of more.

Jean went downstairs a little later than usual the next morning, with her lips curving in a secret smile. Sarah had commented on the expression as she did her hair. Keeping her plans from her maid was going to be one of the greatest challenges, Jean thought. Sarah’s omniscience, usually welcome, was an obstacle. Yet the difficulties in getting what she wanted added another kind of zest to her efforts.

At the foot of the stairs, Jean’s path was blocked by two servants carrying a large picture frame. When she stepped aside to let them pass upward, she saw that it was Alice’s portrait from the library. Jean stood still as her second cousin’s image moved slowly past her. Alice looked outward with serene unconsciousness. How odd to encounter her just at this moment, when Jean was so intent on her husband.

“I’m simply moving it to the gallery with the other family pictures,” said a familiar resonant voice, sending a thrill through her. Lord Furness emerged from the archway that led to the library. His uncle followed him. “It was always meant to hang there.”

“Why just now?” asked Lord Macklin.

“It’s past time.” In fact, Benjamin was tired of being overlooked by his dead wife. He knew that a few months ago he would have raged at the idea ofremovingher. But much had changed since then. “You accused me of being stuck in the past,” he added.

“I?” said his uncle.

Benjamin stopped short as the servants moved on, revealing Miss Saunders pressed against the wall. He realized thatshehad thrown that taunt at him, not his uncle. So much had come to revolve around her.

And now she was looking at him in a way that sent a wild crackle of energy down his spine. Whatwasthat look? He couldn’t think of anything but how fiercely he wanted her.

“Good morning,” she said.

Why he should be reminded of a cat crouched over a mousehole, Benjamin did not know.

“Good morning,” said his uncle. “I trust you slept well.”

“Wonderfully.”

A throaty overtone in that single word shivered through him. She looked fresh and lovely in sprigged muslin. Not a single curl escaped her hairpins. That was too bad.

“Benjamin is making a change,” the older man observed. He watched the servants move up the stairs with their burden.

People seemed to be ripe with implication this morning, Benjamin thought. It only needed Mrs. Thorpe to join them with some suggestive remark. “I’m sending Alice’s portrait to the family gallery. Where she…it belongs. It’s no great matter.” Although he knew it was.

“What will Geoffrey think?” asked Miss Saunders.

She never shied away from the hard questions. She never would, Benjamin thought, and for some reason that only increased her allure. “He’ll be delighted. He can go and see her…her picture whenever he likes. No need to ask permission to enter the library.” At their expressions, he added, “It’s my workroom.”

“Were you keeping him—” began Miss Saunders.

“Did you tell him—” said his uncle at the same time.

“He’s five years old,” replied Benjamin. “I don’t have to explain every move I make to a child of that age.”

And then there the boy was, standing at the back of the hall like a sudden apparition. He had an uncanny ability to arrive just when one hoped he wouldn’t. Geoffrey’s celestial-blue eyes caught Benjamin’s gaze; then he looked up to follow the progress of his mother’s image.

Alice seemed to be floating around the curve of the staircase, looking down on them, being no help whatsoever. They might have carried the canvas the other way about, Benjamin thought, feeling slightly beleaguered. His son might make a sound or two when he moved about the house. “The portrait is going back to the gallery,” he said. Again. And sounded pompous this time. Geoffrey looked at him, and Benjamin realized thatbackmeant nothing to the boy in this context. The picture had hung in the library all his short life.

“Am I going there, too?” his son asked.

“Where?”

“The gallery.”

“You may whenever you like,” Benjamin said. “You must tell someone first,” he added quickly.

“Everything else is just the same,” said Miss Saunders. She smiled at the boy, making Benjamin’s pulse accelerate even though the smile wasn’t directed at him.

Geoffrey gave her a sidelong glance. Benjamin was vividly reminded of the incident with the tomahawk in this very spot. He spoke before his son could say something rude. “It’s an honor to have a portrait in the gallery. Your mother will take her place alongside past ladies of the household. She’ll always be in her proper position there.”

“Respected,” said Miss Saunders.

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