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any of the other very ladylike words she’d spouted for his benefit. But perhaps she had more of her shameful mother in her than she’d believed, for Jane, who’d never done something as foolhardy as notice a man, particularly not a nobleman, stared transfixed at the thickly muscled expanse of his thighs, entirely too broad for any proper nobleman. Marquesses were supposed to be spindly and reed-thin from lack of physical exertions, not this…She fanned her cheeks.
    “Are you warm, Mrs. Munroe?”
    “Yes.” Jane yanked her gaze up and found the faintest trace of amusement contained within his eyes, as though he knew she’d been staring at his legs, which was madness. Jane Munroe, bastard daughter, detester of men and their glib tongues, did not admire men. And then belatedly she recalled the frigid room. “No,” she said quickly.
    His brow dipped in confusion. That was preferable to any knowing on his part of the effect his impressive physique had upon her. “Forgive me,” she said, proud of the stoic deliverance of those words. “You were saying, my lord?”
    “I was not saying anything.” Dry humor underscored that statement.
    She furrowed her brow. “Weren’t you?”
    “We were speaking of my polite and proper sister.”
    Something in the slight emphasis of those two very important words gave her pause; set up a slight warning bell that suggested there was more at play. As soon as the thought slipped in, she thrust it back. Of course any prideful nobleman would speak of his sister’s worth in their narrow-minded Society. “Yes, we were,” she murmured.
    “Do tell me,” he drawled. “What else did Mrs. Belden say about my sister?”
    Her mind went blank. Literally blank. Every single thought, worry, or hope fled with that question. Something in his tone suggested he sought a very specific something from Jane with that question. “Say?” She winced at that dreadful nervous tendency to parrot back another’s words.
    He waved a hand about and she followed that faint movement. “Surely she spoke more of my sister, Chloe?”
    “Indeed.” She had not. Oh, to someone the head dragon had surely said something, but it would have never been to Jane who, with her birthright, had been treated as lesser than the dirt upon the dull, black boots donned by the headmistress. The marquess sought specific information from her on his sister. She’d give him precisely the falsities craved by the heartless, self-aggrandizing members of the ton. She spread her hands wide. “I assure you, my lord, Mrs. Belden has thoroughly informed me about your sister, the esteemed Lady Chloe, who by her very nature aspires to an honorable, distinguished match.”
    That silenced the pompous lord. After all, Jane had merely spouted off what most members of polite Society hoped for; for their daughters, sisters, and selves.

Chapter 4
    T he esteemed headmistress, Mrs. Belden, was either cracked in the head sending him Mrs. Munroe to oversee his sister Chloe or the woman knew her charges a good deal less than she was purported to.
    Gabriel ran a critical eye over the rumpled woman in her drab brown dress. By the manner in which she’d drawn her blonde hair tightly back at the nape of her neck and the spectacles perched on the rim of her pert nose, Mrs. Munroe evinced a proper companion and she’d make some proper English lady a perfectly acceptable companion.
    Just not his sister.
    By Mrs. Munroe’s admission, his sister aspired to an honorable, distinguished match. In truth, his sister would sooner lob off her arm than make any match. He bit back a curse of annoyance. His spirited, headstrong sister would devour a woman with Mrs. Munroe’s awkward smiles and words of proper, polite ladies. No, if he allowed Mrs. Munroe the post of companion, his sister would remain unwed for yet another Season and Gabriel would be obligated, once more, to endure another Season and another year with her uncared for; his responsibility stretching