The Unlikely Lady (12 page)

She sat up and hugged a pillow against her chest. She'd kissed Upton last night. Kissed him and liked it.

Not to mention the fact that someone—God knew who—may well have seen them. After they'd righted their clothing and Jane had done what she could to secure the loose pins in her chignon, they'd left the drawing room. The corridor had been empty but Jane had had the feeling someone had been there. Hopefully, it had merely been a servant. A discreet servant. Likely that's exactly who it had been, but Jane couldn't shake the feeling that the scandal she'd been courting may have found her before she'd had the opportunity to properly plan it. The only thought that kept her from a fit of apoplexy was the knowledge that a servant, even a nosy, indiscreet one, wouldn't have known who she was in the demimask. If it had been another party guest, that same possibility existed. Perhaps she'd picked a good night to be scandalous. A good night indeed.

She took a deep breath, pressing the pillow closer to her chest. The more concerning issue of the two that confronted her at present wasn't whether a servant had recognized her. It was keeping Upton from finding out it had been her last night. To that end, she must treat Upton with the same barely concealed distaste she always did. Upton was no fool. He might be a profligate rake who seduced young unknown ladies in drawing rooms, but a fool, no. She had no idea how she would manage it but she had to. She just had to. Upton must never, ever guess that it was she. The embarrassment, the mockery. She couldn't live with that.

*   *   *

Garrett groaned and rolled over in his bed. The sunlight pouring through the window told him it was morning, the pounding in his skull reminded him that he'd had far too much to drink last night. Far, far too much. The only good thing about it was that he'd passed out and apparently managed to sleep through the night. No nightmares for once.

The previous night's events came rushing back at him. Drinking with Monroe, dancing with the lady in blue, taking her to the upstairs drawing room and … Blast it. He hadn't acted gentlemanly last night. Something about her scent and her gown and her … assets had combined to make him more than a bit … libidinous. But who was she? Who? There weren't many possibilities. He knew most of the members of the house party. At least he had until last night. Had someone else arrived for the ball? The lady last night had seemed like a dream woman. This morning he realized it was only a matter of narrowing down the list of guests.

At least he could be sure she was not Isabella. The mystery lady's hair had been dark, but definitely brown, not black. The mystery woman's eyes had been dark too, which ruled out Isabella. Not to mention Isabella had been wearing red. Thank Christ. He did not need that sort of guilt adding to the heaping pile already on his conscience.

Wincing, he rang for a servant, and when one appeared, he asked the chap to get him a concoction for his head. Swifdon swore by some awful drink the Marquis of Colton had invented. This morning Garrett would consider drinking horse piss if it would stop the pounding in his skull. While he waited, he leaned back against the pillows and closed his eyes, running down the list of female guests and quickly discarding those who did not have brown hair and brown eyes. His mind's eye traveled around the dinner table from two nights ago as one by one he mentally checked off each name.

Daphne Swift was blond. Isabella had raven-black hair. Lucy and Cass would hardly be cavorting with a man in a drawing room. There were a handful of other guests, blond, redheaded, brunette, but none with those dark, soulful brown eyes. No one except …

Garrett's eyes flew wide open. He braced both palms against the mattress and shot straight up in bed, his head hammering. His heart hammered louder. No. It could not be. It couldn't possibly be.

Bloody hell. Of all people. Of all the blasted women in the world. He had done all of those things, every last inappropriate, unforgettable one of them, with
Jane Lowndes
!

 

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“I agree. If I had not seen it with my own eyes, I daresay I would not believe it, myself.” Lucy trotted behind Cass as she paced in front of the wide Palladian windows in the upstairs drawing room. The space smelled of the logs that burned slowly in the large fireplace and of spring flowers that had been placed on the side table by one of the maids.

“I'm at a complete loss for words.” Cass pressed her hands to her cheeks and turned in a swirl of peach skirts. Lucy noted with a bit of a smile on her face that Cass had given up the nasty habit of tugging on the ends of her gloves when she was nervous.

“It was Jane, wasn't it?” Lucy asked, wishing she might have been dreaming the entire episode last night.

Cass nodded, a blond curl bobbing against her forehead. “Yes. It certainly was.”

“And it was Garrett, wasn't it?” Lucy continued, smoothing her hands over her own green skirts.

“I don't know who else it could have been. I spoke to Garrett earlier. He was wearing that emerald pin in his cravat and a matching mask.”

“That's what I was afraid of.” Lucy stopped pacing and plunked down on the amber velvet settee. “There's no way around it. We have been witness to Jane and Garrett sneaking off together.”

Cass's brow was furrowed. “Perhaps they were only speaking about something … something about the wedding.”

“Like what?” Lucy sat forward on the edge of the seat, genuinely interested.

“Like … like … Oh, I have no idea whatsoever.”

“I cannot imagine what they'd have to speak about. They can barely tolerate each other.
He took her hand,
Cass. I was certain my eyes would pop from my skull.”

“I almost wish I hadn't seen it. The world would still make sense.” Cass plucked at the silver bob that dangled from her ear.

“There is only one thing to do.” Lucy rested her elbow on her knee and plopped her chin on her palm.

“What's that?” Cass stopped pacing and stared at her.

“We're going to have to discern what's going on. Learn the details.”

Cass nodded. “Yes, I'll go fetch Jane. We'll ask her.”

“No. We cannot allow her time to come up with an excuse. We must go to her immediately and ask her what happened. Confront her directly. That's the only way we'll know the truth.”

Cass nodded again. “Very well. Let's go.”

*   *   *

The knock at Jane's bedchamber door nearly scared her half to death. Oh, God, it wasn't Upton again, was it? Come for more of the same? She might not have the willpower to tell him to go. No. That made no sense. Upton didn't know it had been her. He wouldn't come to her room, and she doubted that even Upton, rake though he may be, would be trolling the halls in the morning looking for another assignation. Very well. It was no doubt safe to open the door.

Though one couldn't be too careful. “Who is it?” she called, smoothing down her hair.

“Lucy,” came her friend's voice.

“And Cass.”

Jane breathed a sigh of relief. Grabbing her spectacles from the bedside table and placing them upon her nose, she hurried to the door. She paused along the way to stare at her reflection in the looking glass. Her white linen dressing gown was perfectly pressed. Her hair was in place. Her cheeks had no rosy glow. She looked normal. Not guilty at all.

It would be best if she could admit what happened to her friends, and she would have. If it had been anyone other than
Upton.
Ugh. It was a complete disaster. She didn't even like Upton. How in the world had this happened?

She briefly considered telling Lucy and Cass the story, substituting an unknown gentleman—she could pretend that she didn't know who he was either. But she quickly discarded that thought during the journey to the door. She knew Lucy and Cass. If her friends learned that she'd engaged in such an escapade with a gentleman at the house party—any gentleman—they wouldn't rest until they discovered his identity. Not to mention they'd ask her a barrage of questions about what he looked like and what he'd been wearing, and it would all be discovered soon enough. There were only about two dozen gentlemen at the house party. Two dozen, and the one she happened to share a passionate interlude with had to be Upton. She shook her head.

“Are you in there, Janie?” came Lucy's impatient voice.

“Coming,” Jane replied in the most normal, guiltless tone she could muster. She had to pretend that nothing unusual had happened last night. If Lucy and Cass wanted to know where she'd gone off to, she'd simply tell them she'd been in the library reading. She would apologize to Cass for being unsociable. Better to be thought unsociable than to be discovered being
too
sociable with the wrong person.

Jane pulled open the door and smiled widely at her friends. “To what do I owe the pleasure so early in the morning?”

Lucy and Cass entered stealthily as if they were sizing up the situation, much like Mrs. Cat when she'd first come to breakfast.

“We're sorry if we woke you, Jane,” Cass said. “I know how much you like to stay up late reading.”

Jane shook her head. “It's quite all right. I was awake.”

Lucy crossed her arms over her chest. “Where did you go off to last night, Janie?”

Jane's palms began to sweat. She pressed them against the front of her dressing gown. Did they know something? No. They couldn't know anything. She and Upton had been completely alone. She was certain of it. They hadn't been the ones who'd closed the door. She'd decided that had all been a figment of her guilty imagination. Besides, Lord knew, if Lucy had been the one to discover them, she wouldn't have silently shut the door and backed away. She would have burst in and demanded an explanation. No. Lucy didn't know, but her question had been quite direct. Guilt was making Jane read too much into it.

“I was—erm, in the library, reading,” she offered.

“Reading? In the library?” Lucy continued, walking in a slow circle around her as if she were a barrister examining a witness.

Cass remained silent but her bright eyes were trained on Jane's face and she looked worried.

“Yes.” Jane didn't meet Lucy's gaze. Lucy was clever. She might discern that Jane was lying with one glance. “The music from the masquerade ball was a bit too loud for me. I'm sorry, Cass. I tried to stay. I truly did.”

Cass ignored that last bit. “How many teacakes did you eat last evening?”

Jane blinked. She wrapped her dressing gown more tightly around her waist. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Cass managed a half-shrug. “I usually see you occupied with a plate of teacakes and I didn't see that last night.”

Jane snorted. “What are you accusing me of, Cass? Not being hungry enough?”

Lucy crossed her arms over her chest again and paced across the carpet. The look on her face was entirely suspicious. Oh, lovely. They suspected something. Upton hadn't mentioned anything, had he? No. He hadn't known who she was. How many times must she remind herself of that?

“So, you ate no teacakes and you went to the library where you spent the rest of the evening reading?” Arms still crossed, Lucy tapped her fingers along her opposite elbows.

“I didn't say I ate no teacakes,” Jane replied, pushing up her chin. “I adore teacakes. I ate three before I went to the library.”

“The library?” Lucy looked down her nose at Jane.

“Yes, the library.” Wasn't her philosophy to solve one problem at a time? That was all there was to do now. Lie and stand firm. Even though Lucy and Cass obviously suspected something, they had no proof. Did they? Had they gone to the library and not found her?

“The library?” Cass echoed.

Jane considered the possibilities. It was all or nothing. She had to see this through. “Yes, the library. You do know where the library is, don't you?”

“Of course I know where the library is.” Cass plunked her hands on her hips.

“Did you count the teacakes?” Jane asked, her lips twitching from suppressed laughter.

“What a silly question,” Cass replied. “Of course I didn't count the teacakes. You're free to eat as many teacakes as you like.”

“I'm glad to hear it because it seems the two of you are accusing me of something. Perhaps something duplicitous, involving teacakes?”

“Accusing you of something? Whatever do you mean?” Cass put her hand to her throat, but she was a rubbish liar. It was obvious she was attempting to play ignorant.

“What might we be accusing you of?” Lucy interjected.

“I don't know,” Jane answered. “You tell me.”

They faced off, staring at each other, Jane daring Lucy to ask a bold enough question to get to the bottom of this interrogation. Surprisingly, Lucy broke first. “We merely came up to ensure you were well, Janie. We were quite worried about you when we couldn't find you last night.”

Jane breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you for checking on me. I'm quite fine.”

Cass crossed over to her and gave her a quick hug. “I'm so glad.”

Lucy whirled and narrowed her eyes on Jane. “Did you, ah, happen to see Garrett last night?”

Jane pressed her palms together to keep them from shaking. She counted three and took a deep breath. They knew something. But she'd come this far and she refused to back down. “Upton?” she said in the most disinterested voice she could muster. “Are you asking if I saw Upton in the library? Because the answer is most assuredly no. I doubt Upton even knows what a library is.”

Lucy's smile was catlike. “You didn't see Garrett at all then?”

“If you're interested in Upton's whereabouts last evening, you might try asking Mrs. Langford. She seems to be quite taken with him, though goodness knows why.”

Distraction. It usually worked on her mother. Would it work on Lucy?