"I'd say you're right."

They talked at length about what to do with the girl, how to calm her down and round the rough edges without quashing her energy and natural appeal. It would be a daunting task.

After Meg left, Jane was turning her attention to another project just as the builder poked his nose through the door, looking for Emily.

"Master Morris has come to visit her," he announced.

"Who is Master Morris, might I inquire?"

The builder cleared his throat and looked away. "He is a neighbor, milady. And a good friend of your husband's. He stops by regularly to converse with Lady Emily to ensure that her needs are being accommodated in her father's absence."

"Please show him into the day room. Offer refreshments."

"Already done, milady."

"Thank you, sir. Inform him that I will be down shortly to meet with him."

The builder bowed his way out of the room, and Jane closed the book on top of the stack. As she stepped around the desk, she caught sight of a pair of small, dust-covered boots sticking out from under the drapes. Emily, the scamp! How long had she been hiding and listening? She must have heard the entire conversation with Meg.

Jane walked to the door and closed it, pretending to have left, then stood quietly. Not more than a minute passed before the fabric rustled and the girl slipped out, silent as a mouse. She walked to the desk and began rifling through Jane's papers.

"Eavesdropping is dreadfully impolite."

At the sound of Jane's voice, she jumped sky-high. "Lady Jane, I didnat know you were still here."

"Obviously." Jane crossed her arms over her chest and tapped a toe against the flooring. "Well, what have you got to say for yourself?"

Emily fidgeted, pulling at the sides of her dress, a dreadful brown thing that she'd outgrown. The sleeves were too short, the hem too high. Looking everywhere but in Jane's direction, she said, "I was lost?"

"Try again."

"I was looking for something?"

"Again." Jane made a whirling motion with her hand, urging the girl to hurriedly run through her string of lies.

After three more inane attempts, Emily threw up her hands. "I give up. I was snooping. There! Are you happy now?"

"Actually, yes I am. Very happy. When we speak to one another, I'd like to think that we could always tell each other the truth."

"Why?"

"So I'll know what you're thinking and feeling."

"Why ever would you care about that?"

"Because you are my daughter, like it or not. And that means something to me."

Out of the blue, she asked, "Why did you marry my father?"

Jane thought about prevaricating, but it wouldn't be a good beginning for the two of them. "My own father decided it was time I wed. He commanded that I find a husband. To speed matters along, he offered a huge dowry."

"So Father married you for your money?"

"Yes. Yes, he did." The admission to his daughter, that there hadn't been any more to it than that, hurt more than it should have. Jane had to swallow against the terrible lump in her throat.

Emily was surprised to see the tears of hurt spring to Jane's eyes. All this time, she'd imagined that Jane had tricked her father into marriage. He was so handsome, so dashing, accompanied by only the most beautiful, glamorous women. From the beginning, Jane had seemed so ordinary. He wouldn't have married her unless she'd worked some ulterior plan. Now, seeing the tears left her confused. "You didnat wish to marry him?"

"No. I didnat I'm sorry if the truth hurts you, but I had very little say in the matter."

"And what does my father think about you?"

"I'd say he thinks very little about me, probably. I left London the day after the wedding, and I haven't heard a word from him since. I'd say he was glad to have my money, but even more glad to be rid of me." There were those tears again. Such awful admissions, but better that the girl learn the facts up front rather than letting her garner any false hopes about her parents' union.

"But . . . but . . . that's horrible." Emily couldn't believe the flood of compassion she felt for Jane's plight. The girl knew better than anyone what it was like to stand on the outside of her father's life looking in.

"Well, I wouldn't say horrible. It was an arranged marriage, and I could have ended up in a situation much worse."

"If he doesn't love you either, what's to become of us?"

As Emily's eyes flooded with tears of her own, Jane wondered how she'd ever be able to leave Rosewood when this beautiful, lonely girl needed her so desperately. "I was hoping you and I could build a life together. That we could be friends and companions."

"You would wish to be friends with me? After the way I've treated you?"

"You haven't done anything to me. You've simply been trying to come to terms with the shocking news caused by my arrival."

"I am sorry, though, for the way I've been acting."

"I know, dear." Jane smiled down at her and held out a hand. "Friends?"

"I've never had a lady friend before. I believe I'd like that ever so much." Emily clasped Jane's hand in her own.

"Now, why don't you tell me why you were hiding in here?"

Emily paused, wondering if she'd be able to explain it so Jane would understand. "I was hiding from Master Morris."

"Your visitor?"

"Yes. I don't have to go sit with him, do I?"

"If he's a friend of your father's, it would be impolite of us to snub him."

"But perhaps, just this once, you could go without me."

"Why is it that you don't wish to see him? Has he offended you in some way?"

"Well, you see . . . it's just that"a"Emily blushed bright red and looked down at her feet as the words gushed outa""it's just that he always makes me sit on his lap even though I don't like it, and he insists I kiss him good-bye. 'On the lips, now,' he says, because Father told him we're to be married! I don't have to marry him, do I?"

"Marry?" Jane's brow creased in concern. "You must have misunderstood."

"No, no. He said it. That Father was going to have us marry this year 'on my birthday,' and 'wouldn't that be grand?' I think it would be horrible. If I married him, I'd have to go away with him, wouldn't I? I don't want to. I want to stay here with you and Richard and Mrs. Smythe. And my horse. And I was thinking we might get a dog. A very big one."

The girl had to be mistaken. She was only eleven years old. Even Phillip, in his jaded state, wouldn't do such a thing. Would he? A trickle of dread pricked her spine, because she knew girls were wed at twelve years all the time. "Emily, you don't have to meet with him. Not ever again. And I'll speak to your father. I'm certain you just misunderstood what Master Morris told you. Don't worry on this overly much. Promise me that you won't."

"All right, but it has been keeping me quite vexed for some time now."

"I can imagine that it would. You run along."

"Thank you, Jane." Emily ran forward and hugged her tightly around the waist. Jane hugged her back for a long moment until Emily pulled away. "Is Meg truly to be my governess?"

"If you'd like her to be."

"I think I would."

"Good, we'll try it then and see how it works. Why don't you go find her? I was thinking we will all need some new dresses and perhaps a few gowns for the Harvest Fair coming in September. I'm sure there will be several events and parties to attend. You can talk with her about what would be appropriate and what colors we should select. She has a grand eye for fashion, and she'll know all about the latest styles in London. We'll need to call for the seamstress in the village."

"You'll get a new one also?"

"We'll both get several."

A few minutes later, Jane entered the drawing room to find Morris sitting by himself, quietly sipping a cup of tea. At first glance, viewed in profile, he seemed harmless enough, young and handsome, foppishly dressed in his blue coat and tan breeches, his black boots shined to perfection. When he heard Jane enter and looked her way, she was surprised to see he was much older than she'd imagined. The thought of him calling on Emily was distressing. No wonder the girl was begging for help. How long had the visits been going on, and what di the Earl really know about them?

Morris was obviously expecting to see Emily, and when he didnat, his blue eyes turned a frighteningly deep shade. Jane had the strangest flash of memory from her childhood, of sitting on her uncle's lap in a darkened corner and trying to pull away from his grasp. Funny it should surface now.

She couldn't have said precisely what it was about him that made her so uncomfortable, but it only took one look for her to know that Emily would never spend another moment in the man's company.

"Master Morris? I am Jane Wessington."

"Pleased to meet you, Lady Wessington. I must say, with the Earl still in London, 1 wasn't expecting to find you here."

Obviously, she thought. He stood and bowed over her hand. As his skin touched hers, she had to fight the urge to pull away. Once he let go, she waited until he'd glanced away, then wiped her palm against her skirt. "I'm told you're here to call on Lady Emily."

"Yes. I am an old friend of the Earl's. Since I am home more often than he, he likes me to stop by to check on the girl. She is quite dear to me. I care for her as though she were my own daughter."

His words rang hollow, and Jane couldn't help the feeling of revulsion that crept over her. She wanted the man gone, and no matter how terribly he reported her behavior to her husband, she wanted to make it clear that he wasn't welcome back. "I'm sorry, but Lady Emily is very busy just now. I've retained a new governess for her. She's receiving instruction at the moment."

Morris knew it was a bald-faced lie. He'd seen the child through the window, skipping in the garden, moments before Lady Wessington entered the room. His eyes darkened, his face flushed. He hated most women, but especially women like Jane with her air of authority and superiority. "Perhaps I could wait. I'm sure the Earl would like a report when I return to London."

"There is no need for you to trouble yourself. I'm afraid I've rearranged her days, and her schedule is now extremely full. Her time will be completely occupied until nightfall."

"I see," Morris said, rising.

He did see; Jane could tell. The message had gotten through loudly and clearly, and although he was doing a good job of controlling his temper, inside he was seething. "Thank you for stopping," she said as sweetly as she could, but her lack of sincerity was obvious.

"What shall I tell the Earl when I see him?"

"You needn't tell him anything. I will tell him everything he needs to know. Good day, sir."

The butler, with impeccable timing, was waiting at the door with Morris's hat, and he stomped out and off without another word.

"Anything else, milady?" the butler asked.

"Yes, there is one thing, and I want you to spread the word among the staff. Master Morris should never again be allowed to call on Lady Emily. If he shows up requesting a visit, entrance should be denied. To avoid any unpleasantness, you may tell him you're simply following my orders and dare not go against my wishes."

"And what about the Earl's instructions?"

"Don't worry, I'll handle the Earl. No matter what, that man is not welcome around Emily."

She turned and walked away. Deep in thought, she didnat hear the butler remark, "Well done, Lady Jane. Well done."

Chapter Seventeen.

Phillip rode through the village outside Rosewood and couldn't believe the attitudes of the people. For years, other than by an occasional wave when he passed, he'd barely been acknowledged. Now, people were smiling, stopping what they were doing to shout a hello. The greetings went on and on, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen the people looking so happy or so eager.

Charles Fitzsimmons's prognosis was extremely grim, and against everyone's advice, Gertrude had insisted on transporting him back to Portsmouth. At the group's departure, Phillip had set out on his own to deliver the news to Jane. With his conscience still stabbing at him like nasty insect bites, he'd decided to bring the message himself. Most of the time, he told himself he was only making the journey because he was her husband and it was only appropriate that he deliver the news.

In those rare moments when he was completely honest with himself, he admitted that he simply wanted to see her again, to make amends. He didnat know where the feelings were coming from, or why they were so strong, he only knew that he couldn't refuse to act on them.

With beautiful summer sunshine bathing the countryside, he'd decided to travel alone to Rosewood. It was a peaceful, glorious trek of solitude and scenery such as he had not enjoyed since his days as a boy when he'd regularly sneaked off with Richard Farrow to their secret hiding places. When he lowered his protective barriers enough to admit it, he realized he missed those times. The innocence. The carefree, playful days. He missed Richard, too, the only true friend he'd ever had.

He turned off the main road and rode through the gates to the estate. He'd loved this place as a boy, had always seen it through Richard's eyes as a grand and glorious playground. As an older youth, he'd begun to recognize it as his heritage, a place of great beauty and prosperity which would be placed in his trust.

But, as a man fully grown, he'd only seemed to cling to the worst of the memories, those of lonely months and years spent pining away for some attention from his father, of the strict and authoritarian tutors who beat and berated him on a regular basis, of the great, misplaced love for Anne which had shattered his heart and his life.

The place seemed truly alive on the bright summer day, and he slowed his horse so that he could have a lengthened enjoyment of the ride to the manor house. From nearby, female laughter sounded, then a man's roar, and others joined in. Curious as to what horseplay was in progress and who was involved, he reined his horse off the drive and into the woods.

He cleared the trees to a grassy meadow. At the other side was one of the long streams which ran across the property. By the water's edge, a picnic was in progress. No one noticed his approach, and he watched for a few minutes, dumbfounded by the sight before his eyes.

Meg and Emily dangled their bare feet in the stream. Jane sat on a blanket, more lovely than ever in a simple blue dress that revealed her shoulders and the tops of her breasts. A large straw bonnet covered her face and shaded her arms and chest. Graves sat on one side of her and Richard Farrow on the other. He held his temper in check until Farrow laughed at something Jane had said and she responded with a pat on his knee.

Seeing red, he nearly started across the meadow, but stopped himself when Graves rose to his feet and pulled Meg to hers. Meg blushed prettily as Graves whispered something in her ear.

"Now that we're all here together," he announced with a huge smile on his face, "I wanted to tell you that Meg has finally agreed to become my wife."

Surprised silence, then shrieks from Jane and Emily who jumped up and started hugging the pair. Jane faced Graves, clasping both his hands in hers. "I told you to ask her again."

"I'm glad I followed your advice. She finally said yes."

"He's been wearing me down," Meg offered, laughing gaily.

"We thought we'd have the ceremony during the Harvest Fair," John said, "to add to the festivities."

"Splendid," Jane agreed.