The Unlikely Lady (22 page)

Lucy looked up at her and blinked. “Why, Jane Lowndes, did I just hear you say something to indicate that you give a toss about how you look?”

Jane promptly snapped her mouth shut. She needed to be more careful about what she said in front of Lucy. “Let's go. I need your help making it to the ballroom.”

Lucy gave Jane a sly look that indicated she was not entirely through with her previous question but she held out her arm, nonetheless, for Jane to lean on.

Jane took a deep breath. It was time. Time to go to the ballroom and find Garrett, and time to put her Mrs. Bunbury plot into action with Lucy. Jane felt confident on both counts.

She leaned on Lucy's arm, and the two women slowly made their way down to the ballroom. Once inside, Jane barely had a chance to scan the room for Garrett, before her mother found her. Thankfully, Mama was speaking to Cass.

“Jane, come join us,” Cass called, motioning her over with her fan. Jane and Lucy slowly made their way over to the two of them.

Mama eyed her up and down. “What are you wearing, miss?”

Jane winced. “I—”

“Isn't it lovely, Lady Lowndes?” Lucy interjected. “It's one of mine. I think Jane looks absolutely stunning in it.”

Jane's mother's eyes were wide, but there was definitely a smile lurking in their depths. “I just have never seen Jane in anything so … so…”

“Silver?” Jane supplied, hoping her mother would let the subject drop. Jane gave Cass a pleading look.

“I was just telling your mother how much we've enjoyed getting to know Mrs. Bunbury,” Cass announced with a quick smile in Jane's direction.

Lucy nodded. “Oh, yes. She's a delight but
such
a quick one. I swear I've seen her half a dozen times this evening, but at present I cannot seem to locate her.” Lucy stood on tiptoes and made a grand show of scanning the ballroom for the elusive Mrs. Bunbury.

Jane's mother merely nodded. “If you see her again, Your Grace, do point her out immediately.”

“Mama, I saw her in the corridor just before I came in,” Jane added. “She said she might go and lie down. She wasn't feeling particularly well. She wanted to ensure that I found you and was properly chaperoned this evening.”

“Of course you are,” Jane's mother huffed.

“She said to give you her regrets that she has been unable to make your acquaintance.” Jane shared a knowing look with Lucy.

Hortense fluttered her silk fan in front of her face. “I am sorry to hear she's feeling unwell. I suppose there's always tomorrow at the wedding to meet.”

“Yes, of course,” Lucy said brightly.

Jane winked at Lucy. She'd never been much of a winker before, but this little victory called for a wink if anything did.

“Janie, come with me. Let's take a turn around the room. We'll go slowly for the sake of your ankle,” Lucy said. “You'll excuse us, won't you, Lady Lowndes? There is a certain gentleman I've been wanting Jane to meet.”

Jane's mother looked as if she'd just been told that Jane's engagement was imminent. A smile spread across her face. “Oh, yes. Yes, of course. Please go. Have fun.”

“I shall see you later, Mama,” Jane said, waving as they left, arm in arm.

“That was a nice touch with the bit about the gentleman, Lucy,” Jane said with a laugh, after they were well away from her mother.

“She's predictable, the poor dear,” Lucy replied with a sigh.

They made their way slowly around the room while Jane continued to test the strength of her ankle. They were nearly to the other side of the large space when she spotted a small group of people that unfortunately included Mrs. Langford.

The widow was wearing purple this evening. Jane snorted. Typical. She thought she was a queen.

Mrs. Langford's head snapped up and she spotted Jane and Lucy.

“Miss Lowndes,” she called, leaving the group of gentlemen who were paying her homage and coming to stand near the two ladies. “May I have a word?”

“I suppose so,” Jane replied, wanting to be anywhere but in Mrs. Langford's odious company. Reluctantly, Jane relinquished Lucy's arm and painstakingly followed Mrs. Langford over to the wall where there was a bit of privacy.

The widow turned to face her. “I wanted to say one thing.”

Jane sighed. “Very well. Say it so that I may limp back over to my friend.”

Mrs. Langford's eyes narrowed. “Fine. I'll be blunt. I want Garrett Upton. And I intend to have him.”

Jane placed a steadying hand against the wall. She took a breath, concentrating to keep a blank look on her face. So there it was, the ultimate challenge, and stated in such a way that it sounded absurd. “What are you planning to do? Toss a sack over his head and abduct him?”

Mrs. Langford smirked. “Such a wit, Miss Lowndes, and such a child. I am a full-grown woman and, believe me, I know the way to bring a man to heel.”

Jane's eyebrows shot up. “To heel? Like a dog, you mean?”

“If need be.” She tossed her head and barely shrugged one shoulder. “I'm willing to do whatever it takes.”

“Like tampering with a saddle and challenging someone to a race?”

The widow gasped and took a step back. “What are you implying?”

Jane eyed the woman. She had no intention of getting into an argument with Isabella in the middle of the ball at Cass's wedding party, but she also refused to allow the widow to think she was fooling anyone. “Don't count your victory quite yet, Mrs. Langford. I, too, have read
Secrets of a Wedding Night.
” Jane brushed past the widow and made her way back to Lucy. Admittedly, her departure would have had a superior impact if she hadn't had to half limp, but an exit was an exit, was it not? The words were more important than the walking.

Lucy had managed to find Garrett, and they were standing together when Jane returned. She smiled at him brightly and he rushed to offer his arm. “How is your ankle?” he whispered in her ear, causing gooseflesh to pop up. Hopefully he'd got a good whiff of that magical perfume.

“Not perfect but much better,” she replied.

To Jane's chagrin, Mrs. Langford sauntered up and joined their group. The woman's strident voice rang out behind them. “Your Grace, it's lovely to see you again.”

Lucy rolled her eyes but turned to greet the widow. “Mrs. Langford.” She inclined her head.

They turned to face one another in a small circle. Jane kept her arm firmly wrapped around Garrett's.

Mrs. Langford touched her elegant fingers to the strand of pearls at her neck. “It's really too bad you cannot dance this evening, Miss Lowndes. I do hope your ankle heals eventually.”

“I'm sure you do, Mrs. Langford,” Jane replied, a false smile on her face.

“I myself would love to dance.” Mrs. Langford eyed Garrett expectantly.

Jane's grip on his arm tightened. For one awful moment she thought he would be obliged to offer.

“I'd be honored if you'd dance with
me,
Mrs. Langford.” Owen Monroe was there. Jane couldn't stop her sigh of relief. The man had a knack for materializing at the precise moment he was needed. A helpful chap indeed.

Mrs. Langford gave Owen a tight smile, but she had no choice but to accept. She took his arm and allowed Owen to lead her to the floor.

“I'm off to find my handsome husband.” Lucy gave Jane and Garrett a small wave as she trotted off.

“I'm sorry you cannot dance,” Garrett said as soon as they were alone.

“I'm not.”

He raised a brow. “You're not?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

She leaned up to get closer to his ear so only he could hear. “Because I'd much rather … go look at the paintings in the upstairs drawing room.”

His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, but otherwise, his face remained a mask. “I see. And would you allow me to accompany you on such a mission?”

“I was counting upon it.”

He made to offer his arm, but Jane shook her head. “We shouldn't be seen leaving together,” she whispered. “I'll meet you there in ten”—she studied her ankle—“no, fifteen minutes.”

*   *   *

The journey to the upstairs drawing room took Jane longer than fifteen minutes. First, she had to wait for her chance to leave the ballroom without anyone noticing, a particularly difficult task given that everyone kept coming to inquire after the health of her foot. By the time she actually made her way from the room, she was still favoring her ankle more than she'd realized. She hobbled out of the ballroom, down the corridor, and up the stairs.

When she finally pushed open the door to the upstairs drawing room, she breathed a sigh of relief. Garrett was waiting for her on the settee in the middle of the room. He faced the portrait they'd pretended to look at the other night. A brace of candles on the mantelpiece illuminated one side of his handsome face. Jane was suddenly shy to be back here, remembering what they'd done on that settee.

Be bold.
Wasn't that Lucy's favorite saying? Jane had become quite bold indeed. And she was about to become even bolder.

She opened her reticule, pulled out a key, and locked the door.

“What do you have there?” Garrett called, his voice warm.

“The key.” She glanced over her shoulder, giving him a positively flirtatious look—one she was not certain she'd heretofore had in her.

He whistled, his eyebrows lifted. “The key?”

“Yes. I came prepared this time. We don't want anyone walking in on us, do we? I asked a footman for it earlier. I gave him a guinea for his trouble.”

“Not Mrs. Langford's footman, I hope.”

“Certainly not.”

She sauntered over to Garrett—as well as one could saunter when one's ankle was doing poorly. She felt more feminine than she ever had in her life. Feminine and romantic. The gown was lovely, the room was cast in shadows, the man was handsome and dashing and … she wanted to kiss him. The thought made her shiver.

“How did you get away from your mother?” He took her hand and helped her to sit next to him.

“I told her my ankle was hurting and I needed to prop it upon pillows. Mama said she'd send a servant to check on me, but Lucy volunteered.”

“What about Mrs. Bunbury?” he asked, his mouth quirking into a sensual grin.

Jane laughed. “Don't worry. My chaperone is rubbish. Believe me, we'll be completely safe from her.”

Garrett's lips twisted into a beautiful smile. “I suppose we cannot expect too much out of her in that she doesn't exist.”

He slid across the velvet seat until his thigh touched Jane's. “You look absolutely stunning in that gown,” he breathed. His warm breath caressed her neck. She shuddered.

“Thank you.”

“I may like it better than the blue one and I hardly thought that possible.”

“Thank you.” Her good leg shook furiously beneath the silvery folds, but she refused to pluck.
Be bold
.
Be brave
.

She took a shaky breath. “What should we talk about? Portraits?”

His hand moved to her shoulder. He lightly stroked the column of her neck with one finger. Jane closed her eyes. She couldn't think. His touch did funny things to her insides.

“Seeing as how you've locked the door,” he whispered. “I was thinking of something else.”

“Something … el—else?”

“A lesson.”

A shiver chased its way down her spine. She opened her eyes again and focused them on him. “A lesson?”

“Yes.” His lips hovered near her ear. “You like to learn new things, do you not?”

She turned her head. Their mouths were only inches apart. She watched his lips. “I do. But what can
you
teach
me
?”

His other hand came up to rub her opposite shoulder. “Ah, you may think you know everything, but believe me when I tell you there is a thing or two that a supposed rake could show you.”

Her breath came in short pants. “Is that right?”

“Yes.”

Her head tipped back. “By all means, then, show me.”

He carefully reached behind her ear and unhooked the wire bar of her spectacles. Facing her, he put his other hand behind her opposite ear and pushed that one up too. He carefully pulled the spectacles away from her face. For a moment, Jane felt naked, vulnerable.

He set the spectacles on the table in front of the settee and turned back to face her. His thumb rubbed across the underside of her eye.

“I like your freckles,” he said.

Her throat went dry. “Oh, they're just—”

“Charming,” he finished.

“I thought you said something about teaching me a lesson?”

“So I did.” He pulled her to him, his mouth capturing hers. His lips slanted over hers, and his tongue plunged inside. Jane fiercely wrapped her arms around his neck. He quickly maneuvered them so she lay on the settee and he was on top of her, kissing her, pressing his hardness against her softness.

He braced himself on one elbow and, using one hand, untied his cravat, uncoiled it quickly, and ripped it from around his neck.

“What are you going to do with that?” she whispered against his rough cheek.

“Tie you to the settee.”

Jane's eyes flared. Her heart fluttered in her chest. She'd never heard of anything like that, but she was intrigued. More than intrigued. Ooh, perhaps a rake did have a few lessons to share after all. She met his eyes in a challenge. They'd turned a dark, mossy green. “You wouldn't dare.”

He'd arched a brow. “Wouldn't I? Try me.” Clutching the rumpled cravat in his fist, he stared her in the eye. “Say the word.”

“What word?” Her breath was a heavy pant against his firm chin. Her chest rose and fell rapidly with her excitement.

“Yes,” he whispered.