“I CAN’T TELL YOU HOW SORRY I AM ABOUT LAST night,” Charles told her at breakfast the next morning, his face lined with worry and contrition. “I was wrong to announce your betrothal to Jason, but I had so hoped the two of you might suit. As for Lady Kirby, she is an old hag, and her daughter’s been dangling after Jason for two years, which is why they both came galloping over here to have a look at you.”

“There’s no need to explain all that again, Uncle Charles,” Victoria said kindly. “No harm was done.”

“Perhaps not, but in addition to all her other unpleasant qualities, Kirby is the worst of gossips. Now that she knows you’re here, she’ll make certain everyone else does, which means we’ll soon be deluged with visitors eager to have a look at you. That, in turn, means a suitable chaperone will have to be present so that no one can cast aspersions on you for living with two men.” He glanced up as Jason walked in, and Victoria tensed, praying that their truce of last night would hold up in the light of day.

“Jason, I was just explaining to Victoria the need for a chaperone. I’ve sent for Flossie Wilson,” he added, referring to his maiden aunt, who had once helped care for little Jamie. “She’s a complete peagoose, but she’s my only female relative, and the only acceptable chaperone for Victoria that I know of. Despite her lack of sense, Flossie does know how to go about in society.”

“Fine,” Jason said absently, coming to stand beside Victoria’s chair. He looked down at her, his expression unfathomable. “I trust you’re suffering no ill effects from your foray into deprivation last night with the brandy?”

“None at all,” she said brightly. “Actually, I rather liked it, once I became accustomed to it.”

A lazy smile slowly dawned across his tanned face and Victoria’s heart skipped a beat. Jason Fielding had a smile that could melt a glacier! “Beware of liking it overmuch—” he said, and teasingly added, “—cousin.”

Lost in hopeful plans to make Jason her friend, Victoria paid no further attention to what the men were discussing until Jason spoke directly to her. “Did you hear me, Victoria?”

Victoria looked up blankly. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t listening.”

“On Friday, I’m expecting a visit from a neighbor who has just returned from France,” Jason repeated. “If he brings his wife, I’d like to introduce you to her.” Victoria’s momentary flash of pleasure at his ostensibly friendly overture was doused by his blunt explanation for it. “The Countess of Collingwood is an excellent example of how you ought to conduct yourself in society. You would be wise to observe her behavior and emulate her.”

Victoria flushed, feeling like an ill-behaved child who has just been told she ought to follow someone else’s example. Moreover, she had already met four English aristocrats— Charles, Jason, Lady Kirby, and Miss Johanna Kirby. With the exception of Charles, she found them all very difficult to deal with, and she did not relish the prospect of meeting two more. Nevertheless, she stifled her ire and set aside her dread. “Thank you,” she said politely. “I’ll look forward to meeting them both.”

Victoria spent the next four days pleasantly occupied with writing letters or in Charles’s company. In the afternoon of the fifth day, she went down to the kitchens for another plate of scraps for Willie.

“That animal is going to be fat enough to ride if you continue feeding him this way,” Mrs. Craddock warned her good-naturedly.

“He has a long way to go before that,” Victoria said, returning her smile. “May I have that large bone over there, too—or are you planning to use it for soup?”

Mrs. Craddock assured her she was not, and gave the huge bone to Victoria. Thanking her, Victoria started to leave, then remembered something and turned back. “Last night, Mr. Field—I mean, his lordship,” she corrected herself, watching the servants freeze at the mere mention of Jason, “said the roast duck was the best he has ever tasted. I’m not certain he remembered to mention it to you,” Victoria explained, knowing perfectly well that Jason would probably never bother to do so, “but I thought you would like to know.”

Mrs. Craddock’s plump cheeks reddened with pleasure. “Thank you, my lady,” she replied politely.

Victoria dismissed the title with a smile and a wave, then vanished out the door.

“Now, there is a true lady,” Mrs. Craddock said to the others when Victoria left. “She is gentle and kind and not at all like those insipid misses you find in London, or the high-and-mighty ones his lordship has brought here from time to time. O’Malley says she’s a countess. He heard his grace say so the other night to Lady Kirby.”

Victoria carried the food out to the spot where she had been bringing Willie his meals for the last nine days. Instead of hanging back in the safety of the trees for several minutes, as he usually did, he trotted out a few steps when he saw her. “Here,” she said, laughing softly, “look what I’ve brought for you.”

Victoria’s heart began to pound with victory as the huge silver and black dog came nearly to within her reach—much closer than ever before. “If you’ll let me pet you, Willie,” she continued, inching closer to him and holding out the bowl, “I’ll bring you another delicious bone tonight after supper.”

He stopped short, watching her with a mixture of fear and mistrust. “I know you want this,” she continued, taking another tiny step toward him, “and I want to be your friend. You probably think this food is a bribe,” she continued, slowly bending down and putting the bowl between them. “And you’re quite right. I’m as lonely as you are, you see, but you and I could be great friends. I’ve never had a dog, did you know that?”

His glittering eyes shifted greedily to the food and then back to her. After a moment he moved closer to the bowl, but his eyes never left her, not even when he bent his head and began wolfing down his meal. Victoria continued talking softly to him as he ate, hoping to reassure him. “I can’t imagine what Mr. Fielding was thinking of when he chose your name—you don’t look at all like a Willie. I’d have named you Wolf, or Emperor—something as fierce-sounding as you look.”

As soon as he finished, the dog started to retreat, but Victoria quickly held out her left hand, showing him the huge bone she held. “-You must take it from my hand if you want it,” she warned. He eyed the bone for only a moment before his huge jaws clamped down on it, tugging it from her hand. She expected him to race into the woods with it, but to her delight, after a tense, wary pause, he flopped down near her feet and began chewing it to splinters. Suddenly Victoria felt as if the heavens were smiling down on her. No longer did she feel unwanted and unwelcome at Wakefield—both Fielding men were now her friends, and soon she would have Willie as a companion, too. She knelt down and stroked his huge head. “You need a good brushing,” she said, watching his sharp ivory fangs gnaw on the bone. “I wish Dorothy could see you,” she continued wistfully. “She loves animals and she has a way with them. Why, she’d have you doing tricks for her in no time at all.” The thought made Victoria smile, and then it made her ache with loneliness.

It was midafternoon of the following day when Northrup came to impart the intelligence that Lord Collingwood had arrived and that Lord Fielding desired her to come to his study.

Victoria glanced apprehensively in the mirror above her dressing table and then sat down to pin her hair into a neat chignon, preparing to meet a stout, coldly proud aristocrat of Lady Kirby’s age.

“Her coach broke down on the way here and two farmers took her up with them,” Jason was telling Robert Collingwood, a dry smile on his face. “In the course of removing her trunk from the cart, two of the piglets escaped, and Victoria caught one of them just as Northrup opened the door. He saw the piglet in her arms and mistook her for a peasant girl, so he told her to go round the back to make her delivery. When Victoria balked at that, he ordered a footman to evict her from the property,” Jason finished, handing Robert Collingwood a glass of claret.

“Good God,” said the earl, laughing. “What a reception!” Lifting his glass in a toast, he said, “To your happiness and your bride’s continued patience.”

Jason frowned at him.

Trying to clarify what he saw was a confusing toast, Robert explained, “Since she didn’t turn around and take the first ship back to America, I can only assume Miss Seaton has a great deal of patience—a most desirable trait in a bride.”

“The betrothal announcement in the Times was Charles’s doing,” Jason said flatly. “Victoria is a distant cousin of his. When he learned she was without family, and was coming here to him, he decided I ought to marry her.”

“Without first consulting you?” Robert said incredulously.

“I learned I was betrothed in exactly the same way everyone else learned it—by reading the Times.”

The earl’s warm brown eyes lit with amused sympathy. “I imagine you were surprised.”

“Infuriated,” Jason corrected. “Since we’re on that subject, I was hoping your wife would accompany you today so Victoria could meet her. Caroline is only a few years older than Victoria and I think they could become friends. To be frank, Victoria is going to need a friend here. Evidently there was some scandal in the ton when her mother married an Irish physician, and old Lady Kirby is obviously planning to stir up the pot again. In addition, Victoria’s great-grandmother is the Duchess of Claremont, and she apparently isn’t going to acknowledge the girl. Victoria is a countess in her own right, but that alone won’t gain her real acceptance in society. She’ll have Charles’s support behind her, of course, and that will help. No one will dare give her the cut direct.”

“She’ll have the weight of your influence behind her too, and that is considerable,” Collingwood pointed out.

“Not,” Jason disagreed dryly, “when it conies to trying to establish a young woman’s reputation as a virtuous innocent.”

“True.” Robert chuckled.

“In any event, Victoria has met only the Kirby women as samples of the English aristocracy. I thought your wife might give her a better impression. In fact, I suggested she view Caroline as a good example of acceptable manners and behavior—”

Robert Collingwood threw back his head and burst out laughing. “Did you indeed? Then you’d better hope Lady Victoria doesn’t follow your advice. Caroline’s manners are exquisite—exquisite enough to fool even you, I gather, into believing she’s a model of propriety—but I’m constantly bailing her out of scrapes. I’ve never known a more willful young woman in my life,” he finished, but his words were threaded with tenderness.

“In that case, Victoria and Caroline should get on famously,” Jason said dryly.

“You’re taking quite an interest in her,” Robert said, eyeing him closely.

“Only as a reluctant guardian.”

Outside the study door, Victoria straightened the skirts of her apple green muslin gown, knocked softly and then went in. Jason was seated behind his desk in a high-backed, leather-upholstered chair, talking to a man in his early thirties. When they saw her, both men stopped talking and arose in precise, if accidental, unison—a simple movement that seemed to emphasize the similarities between them. Like Jason, the earl was tall and handsome and athletically built, but his hair was sandy and his eyes were a warm brown. He had that same aura of calm authority Jason had, but he was less frightening. Humor lurked in his eyes and his smile was friendly rather than sardonic. Still, he did not look like a man one would wish to have as an enemy.

“Forgive me for staring,” Victoria said softly when Jason had finished making the introductions. “But when I first saw you standing together, I thought I saw a similarity between you.”

“I’m certain you meant that as a compliment, my lady,” Robert Collingwood said, grinning.

“No,” Jason joked, “she didn’t.”

Victoria thought frantically for some suitable reply and could find none, but she was spared further embarrassment by the earl, who shot an indignant look at Jason and said, “What possible answer can Miss Seaton make to that?”

Victoria didn’t hear Jason’s reply because her attention was diverted by another occupant of the room—an adorable little boy of about three who was standing beside the earl, staring at her in mute fascination, a forgotten sailboat clutched in his sturdy arms. With his curly, sandy hair and brown eyes, he was a miniature replica of his father, right down to the identical tan riding breeches, brown leather boots, and tan jacket he was wearing. Utterly captivated, Victoria smiled at him. “I don’t believe anyone has introduced us...” she hinted.

“Forgive me,” the earl said with smiling gravity. “Lady Victoria, permit me to make known to you my son, John.”

The little boy put his boat down on the chair behind him and executed a solemn, adorable bow. Victoria responded by sinking into a deep curtsy, which startled a childish giggle from him. Then he pointed a chubby finger at her hair and glanced at his father. “Red?” he uttered with childish delight.

“Yes,” Robert agreed.

The child beamed. “Pretty,” he whispered, which wrung a laugh from his father.

“John, you are entirely too young to try your hand at charming the ladies,” said Collingwood.

“Oh, but I’m not a lady,” Victoria said, her heart going out to the enchanting little boy. Jauntily she told him, “I am a sailor!” He looked so dubious that Victoria added, “Oh, but I am—and a prodigiously good one, too. My Mend Andrew and I used to build boats and sail them all the time with the rest of the children—although our boats weren’t nearly as grand as yours. Shall we take yours down to the creek?”

He nodded and Victoria looked to his father for permission. “I’ll take excellent care of him,” she promised. “And the ship, of course.”

When the earl consented, John put his hand in Victoria’s and they trooped out of the study.

“She obviously likes children,” Robert observed as the two adventurers left.

“She’s scarcely more than a child herself,” Jason said dismissively.

The earl turned his head and glanced at the alluring young woman walking through the foyer. Returning his gaze to Jason’s, he lifted his brows in amused contradiction, but he said nothing.

Victoria spent the better part of an hour sitting on a blanket on the bank of the creek that carved a picturesque path through the sweeping front lawns. Sun bathed her face and warmed her limbs as she sat beside John inventing stories about pirates and storms that supposedly plagued her ship during the crossing from America. John listened, enraptured, clutching the long length of fishing line Victoria had got from Northrup and attached to the ship. When he grew bored with the tame sailing afforded his small vessel here in the shallows, she took the line from him and they walked along, Victoria guiding the vessel downstream to where the creek became very deep and raced beneath a wide, graceful stone bridge, its waters churned by a fallen tree. “Here,” she said, handing him the fishing line again. “Don’t let go, or we’ll run aground on that snarled tree down there.”

“I won’t,” he promised, smiling as his three-masted ship bobbed and dipped in the swirling water.

Victoria wandered down the steep bank and was happily gathering a bouquet of the pink, blue, and white wild flowers that carpeted the incline when John shrieked and went bounding awkwardly after the line that had obviously pulled free of his grasp. “Stay there!” she called urgently, and ran to him.

Trying manfully not to cry, he pointed to the little ship, which was now gliding straight into the limbs of the fallen tree beneath the bridge. “It’s gone,” he whispered chokily as two tears welled in his brown eyes. “Uncle George made it for me. He’ll be sad.”

Victoria bit her lip, hesitating. Although the water was obviously deep and running fast here, she and Andrew had both rescued their own ships from the far more perilous river where they had always sailed them. She raised her head and scanned the steep bank, making certain they were downhill, well out of sight of the house and everyone in it; then she made her decision.

“It’s not gone, it’s just run aground on a reef,” she said lightly, hugging him. “I’ll get it.” She was already stripping off her sandals, stockings, and the new green muslin gown Jason had provided for her. “Sit here,” she said, “and I’ll get it.”

Clad only in her chemise and light petticoat, Victoria waded into the creek until the bottom fell away beneath her feet, then struck out with long, expert strokes for the far end of the tree. Beneath the bridge the water was icy and deep as it tumbled and churned around the branches, but she had no trouble locating the little craft. She had considerable trouble, however, freeing the strong fishing line from the branches. She dove under twice, to the delighted glee of little John, who had apparently never seen anyone swim or dive before. Despite the cold water and her sodden petticoats, the swim was invigorating, and Victoria reveled in the freedom of it. “I’ll get the ship loose this time,” she called to John, waving. Watching to make certain the child wasn’t going to try to come in after her, she yelled, “Stay right there, I don’t need any help.”

He nodded obediently and Victoria dove under, tracing the line with her cold fingers beneath the tree, feeling for the place where it had wrapped itself around a submerged limb, working her way toward the opposite end.

“Northrup said he saw them walking toward the bridge about—” Jason stopped abruptly as the word “help” drifted to them.

Both men broke into a run, racing at an angle across the lawn toward the distant bridge. Sliding and skidding, they scrambled down the steep, flower-covered bank toward John. Robert Collingwood caught his son by the shoulders, his voice rough with alarm. “Where is she?”

“Under the bridge,” the little boy replied, grinning. “Under the tree, getting Uncle George’s boat for me.”

“Oh, Christ! That little fool—” Jason gasped, already stripping off his jacket and running toward the water. Suddenly a laughing, red-haired mermaid broke the surface in a high, showy arc. “I have it, John!” she called, her streaming hair covering her eyes.

“Good!” yelled John, clapping.

Jason skidded to a stop, his mindless terror giving way to black fury as he watched her blithely swimming toward the bank with long, graceful strokes, the little sailboat trailing far behind in her wake. With his booted feet planted wide apart and a thunderous expression on his face, he waited impatiently for his prey to swim into reach.

Robert Collingwood sent a sympathetic look at his furious friend and took his son’s hand. “Come with me to the house, John,” he ordered firmly. “I believe Lord Fielding has something he wishes to say to Miss Victoria.”

“Thank you?” the little boy predicted.

“No,” he said wryly. “Not ‘thank you.’ ”

Victoria waded backward out of the water, reeling in the little boat as she walked, talking to an absent John. “See, I told you I could rescue the—” Her back collided with an immovable object at the same instant that hands like vices clamped on her arms and spun her around, snapping her head back.

“You little fool!” Jason snarled furiously. “You stupid little fool, you could have drowned!”

“No—no, I wasn’t in any danger,” Victoria gasped, frightened by the enraged glitter in his green eyes. “I’m an excellent swimmer, you see, and—”

“So is the groom who nearly drowned there last year!” he said in a terrible voice.

“Well, breaking my arms isn’t going to help,” she said, but her futile efforts to free herself only made his grip tighten painfully. Victoria’s chest rose and fell in agitation, but she tried desperately to appeal to his reason. “I know I’ve frightened you, and I’m sorry, but I wasn’t in any danger. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“You haven’t done anything wrong? And you aren’t in any danger?” he repeated ominously, his eyes dropping to her bosom as it heaved with her fearful breaths. Victoria suddenly realized she was dripping wet and scantily clad, soaking his shirt where her breasts touched him. “Suppose someone other than me were standing on this bank watching you—what do you think would happen?”

Victoria swallowed and wet her lips, remembering the time she had strolled into the house long after dark, and discovered that her father had organized a search party to comb the woods for her. First he had reacted with joy. Afterward, she had not been able to sit down with comfort for two days. “I—I don’t know what would happen,” she answered him, trying to brazen it out. “I suppose whoever it was would hand me my clothes and—”

Jason’s gaze dropped to her moistened lips, then slid lower, following the line of her throat down to the tantalizing mounds of flesh exposed to his view above her clinging wet chemise. With her head thrown back, they quivered and thrust forward invitingly, emphasizing the undeniable fact that she was an alluring woman and not the child he had tried to convince himself she was. “This is what would happen!” he snapped suddenly, and his mouth crushed hers in a fierce, brutal kiss that was meant to punish and humiliate her.

Victoria squirmed silently against him, trying to break his hold and to drag her mouth away from the fierce possession of his lips. Her struggle only seemed to make him angrier, and the kiss more painful. “Please,” she gasped tearfully against his mouth. “I’m sorry I frightened you—”

Slowly his hands loosened their grip, and then he lifted his head and stared down into her frightened eyes. Automatically, Victoria crossed her arms over her breasts, her hair spilling over her shoulders like a sheet of wet rubies overlaid with a sheen of gold, her sapphire eyes wide with fear and contrition. “Please,” she whispered, her voice shaking with both emotions as she tried to maintain the truce that had existed between them for almost five days. “Don’t be angry. I’m sorry I frightened you. I’ve been swimming since I was a child, but I shouldn’t have done it today, I know that now.”

Her straightforward, ungrudging admission caught Jason completely off guard. Every feminine ploy in existence had been used on him since he’d made his fortune and gained his title, but without success; Victoria’s candor, combined with her beautiful, upturned face and the sensation of her alluring body pressing against him, acted on him like a powerful aphrodisiac. Desire surged through him, heating his blood, sending it singing through his veins, forcing his hands to pull her closer.

Victoria saw something primitive and terrifying flare in his eyes as his hands tightened on her arms. She jerked back, a scream rising in her throat, but his lips covered hers, stifling her voice with a demanding insistence that stunned her into immobility. Like an alarmed rabbit captured in a painless trap, she struggled until she felt his hands stroke soothingly up and down her spine and shoulders, while his lips moved on hers with inflaming expertise.

Dizzily, she slid her hands up his chest, trying to cling for support to the very object that was destroying her balance. This innocent action triggered an instant reaction from Jason. His arms tightened around her and he deepened the kiss, his lips moving on hers with hungry ardor, insistently shaping and fitting her lips to his own. Lost in a haze of nameless yearnings, Victoria leaned up on her toes, responding to the forceful pressure of his arms. He groaned as she molded her body against his, and his parted lips crushed hers, sliding insistently back and forth, urging hers to part; the moment they did, his tongue slid between them, plunging into the soft recesses of her mouth.

Victoria tore her mouth free, horrified by what he was doing, and pushed against him with all her strength. “Don’t!” she cried.

He let her go so abruptly that she staggered back a step; then he drew a long, audible breath, holding it for an abnormally long time. Tearing her hostile gaze from Jason’s chest, she glared at him, fully expecting him to lay the blame for this entirely unseemly kiss at her door. “I suppose this was my fault, too,” she said angrily. “No doubt you’ll say I was asking for such treatment!” His mobile mouth twisted into a grim smile and Victoria had the fleeting impression that he was struggling for composure.

“You made the first mistake this afternoon,” he said finally. “This one was mine. I’m sorry.”

“What?” she said, unable to believe her ears.

“Contrary to what you obviously think of me,” he drawled, “I am not in the habit of seducing innocents—”

“I was not in danger of being seduced,” Victoria lied proudly.

Lazy mockery lit his eyes. “Weren’t you?” he asked, as amusement seemed to drain the tension from his body.

“No, I most assuredly was not!”

“Then I suggest you put your clothes on before I’m tempted to show you how wrong you are.”

Victoria opened her mouth to make some suitably scathing remark about his outrageous conceit, but his bold, glinting smile was too much for her. “You’re impossible!” she said lamely.

“You’re right,” he agreed and turned his back so she could dress.

Trying desperately to control her raging emotions and match his casual mood, Victoria hastily dressed. Andrew had kissed her a few times, but never in that way. Never like that. Jason should never have done so, nor should he be so insufferably composed about it. She was quite certain she had every right to be furious with him, but perhaps things were different in England. Perhaps ladies here took such kisses in stride. Perhaps she would only look a fool if she made an issue of it. Even if she did make an issue of it, Jason would merely shrug the kiss aside as insignificant, which he was already doing. She had nothing to gain by stirring up hostility in him, and she had everything to lose. Still, she could not entirely control her pique. “You really are impossible,” she said again.

“We’ve already agreed on that.”

“You’re unpredictable as well.”

“In what way?”

“Well, I almost thought you were going to hit me for frightening you. Instead you kissed me.” Leaning down, she picked up John’s boat. “I’m beginning to think you’re much like your dog—you both look far more fierce than you really are.”

For once she saw his complacent, knowing facade crack a bit. “My dog?” he echoed blankly.

“Willie,” she clarified.

“You must be terrified of canaries if you find Willie fierce.”

“I’m coming to the conclusion there’s no reason to be afraid of either of you.”

A smile touched the corners of his sensual lips as he took the little boat from her. “Don’t mention that to anyone else, or you’ll ruin my reputation.”

Victoria wrapped the blanket around her, then tipped her head to the side. “Do you have one?”

“Of the worst sort,” he averred flatly, shooting her a challenging look. “Shall I tell you the sordid details?”

“Certainly not,” Victoria said primly. Hoping that perhaps Jason’s mild contrition over the kiss would make him more pliable, Victoria summoned up the courage to broach the subject that had been bothering her for days. “There’s a way you can atone for your ‘mistake,’ ” she said tentatively as they walked toward the house.

Jason shot her a measuring look. “I would say one mistake offset the other. However, what is it you want?”

“I want my clothes back.”

“No.”

“You don’t understand,” she cried, her emotions jangled by the kiss and now by his implacable attitude. “I am in mourning for my parents.”

“I do understand; however, I do not believe that grief is ever so great that it cannot be contained within, and I don’t believe in the outward display of mourning. Moreover, Charles and I want you to build a new life here—one you can enjoy.”

“I don’t need a new life!” Victoria said desperately. “I am only here until Andrew comes for me and—”

“He isn’t going to come for you, Victoria,” Jason said. “He’s only written you one letter in all these months.”

The words stabbed through Victoria’s brain like hot daggers. “He will come, I tell you. There was only enough time to receive one letter before I left.”

Jason’s expression hardened. “I hope you are right. However, I forbid you to wear black. Grieving is done in the heart.”

“How would you know?” Victoria burst out, whirling on him, her hands clenched at her sides. “If you had a heart, you’d not force me to parade around in these clothes as if my parents had never existed. You don’t have a heart!”

“You’re right,” he bit out, his voice all the more frightening because it was so low. “I don’t have a heart. Remember that, and don’t deceive yourself into believing that beneath my fierce exterior, I’m as tame as a lapdog. Dozens of women have made that mistake and regretted it.”

Victoria walked away from him on legs that shook. How could she have imagined they might be friends! He was cold and cynical and hard; he had a vicious, unreliable temper; and besides that he was obviously unbalanced! No sane man could kiss a woman with tenderness and passion one moment, then become outrageously flirtatious, only to turn cold and hateful a mere moment later. He was no lapdog—he was as dangerous and unpredictable as the panther he resembled!

Despite the fact that she walked as quickly as she could, Jason’s long strides kept him easily beside her and they arrived at the circular drive in front of the house at the same time.

The Earl of Collingwood was waiting for them, already mounted on his splendid sorrel with John comfortably ensconced in front of him.

Embarrassed and angry, Victoria bade the earl a brief good-bye, smiled lamely at John and handed him his sailboat, then rushed inside.

John watched her, looked at Jason, then turned anxiously to his father. “He didn’t give Miss Tory a thrashing, did he?”

The earl lifted his amused glance from Jason’s wet shirt-front to his lordship’s face. “No, John, Lord Fielding did not give her a thrashing.” To Jason he said, “Shall I ask Caroline to call upon Miss Seaton tomorrow?”

“Come with her, and we’ll continue our business discussion.”

Robert nodded. Tightening his arm protectively around his little son, he touched his booted heel to his restive mount and the sorrel cantered off down the drive.

Jason watched them leave, his bland expression fading to one of grim displeasure as he permitted himself for the first time to face what had happened to him beside the creek.