Read The Marsh Hawk for Free Online

that—”
    â€œYou’ve
what
? Mother, how dare you? You heard the way Rupert spoke to me last night in front of everyone. I shan’t forget that you took his part. How could you? You heard, and you actually think that
I
should apologize to
him
?”
    â€œHe expects it, dear. This is your engagement, Jenna. You are twenty-two years old. If you ruin this you shall have to put on your caps! It’s too late for a Season now. Do you
want
to be a spinster? Why, Lady Marner was saying just this morning—”
    â€œOh, bother Lady Marner! We should have had this farce at Thistle Hollow—or not at all. It sickens me to see you bow and scrape to Lady Carolyn Marner and that . . . that Sassenach of a husband of hers. There goes Rupert ten years hence—living like a piece of lint in the Prince Regent’s pocket, and earning about as much respect! I want to go home. At least on my own ground I’d have the advantage.”
    â€œWell, you can’t. The Marners have been kind enough to host this weekend out of sympathy for me . . . for
us
, because of your father, dear.”
    â€œFather has been gone for over a year, Mother. Don’t you dare bring him into this. He isn’t here to take sides. But you know full well whose side he would be on if he was. There is no reason why you couldn’t have hosted this travesty at Thistle Hollow.”
    â€œWell, it’s too late now, dear. We are here, and you are going to see it through. You will dress and go to the picnic. At your earliest opportunity, you will apologize to Rupert. And when we go down to dinner tonight, you will smile. You will not hold me up for ridicule and gossip, Jenna. I simply will not have it!”
    Jenna wore her white muslin afternoon dress to the picnic. It was held at precisely the noon hour on the well-manicured east lawn of the estate, a picturesque expanse of rolling green that sloped down to an orchard. Only a few of the older gentlemen attended. The rest were occupied with the shoot.
    Jenna avoided Lady Evelyn St. John, and opted instead for the company of the Warrenfords’ two daughters. The Warrenfords spent a good deal of time in London, in and out of Season, and she attempted to extract whatever tidbits she could about the St. Johns from them. The yield was scant. All she was able to discover was that they were twins, distant relatives of the duke of York, that both their parents were dead, and that Simon Rutherford, the ton’s most eligible bachelor, was rarely seen in public without them.
Stuck like glue
was the term Rosemary Warrenford had used. It was like rubbing salt in an open wound.
    Her interview with Rupert did not go quite so smoothly. He appeared at the picnic late in the afternoon, exchanged amenities with the Warrenford girls, took Jenna’s arm and steered her toward the orchard.
    The earl put in an appearance at about the same time. His limp was more pronounced now than it had been earlier, yet his movements were elegant in spite of it. He strolled straight to Lady Evelyn’s side, offered his hand, and helped her up from the picnic cloth she occupied with several young people whom Jenna did not recognize. She deliberately navigated her course with Rupert to pass directly in front of them. Then, snuggling closer to her betrothed, she flashed him her most disarming smile, ignoring the earl altogether as they sailed past. That would teach his lordship to keep his advice to himself.
    Rupert studied her with a skeptical eye through his quizzing glass. He was tall and slender, with close-cropped hair the color of wheat swept toward his face in the latest à la Brutus style. Whether the occasion was casual or formal, she could not fault him. His toilette was always up-to-the-minute, and correct.
    â€œYou’re feeling better I see,” he said.
    â€œMuch better, thank you. And what of you? Are you in a more agreeable temper after your shoot?”
    â€œI heard you