The Unlikely Lady (13 page)

Obviously dissatisfied with that answer, Lucy opened her mouth to speak, but Cass patted Jane's hand. “We'll see you later for the picnic on the lawn, won't we, Jane?”

Lucy plunked her hands on her hips and glared at Cass.

“Yes, of course.” Jane smoothed her hand over her hair. “I think I'll just pop back to bed for a bit more sleep. I'll be down for the picnic around noon.”

“Have a good rest,” Lucy called as she made her way to the door, Cass trailing behind her.

The two disappeared nearly as quickly as they'd come, leaving Jane staring after them perplexed. Just what did they know?

 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Garrett had been summoned. Summoned to the gold drawing room where Lucy and Cassandra were apparently holding court. The entire house party—or at least those who were inclined—were to have a picnic lunch in a meadow on the estate at noon. While most of the guests were assembling in the foyer to make their way out together, a footman had delivered a note asking Garrett to meet Lucy and Cassandra in the salon directly before the group departed.

Thank God that hideous concoction of Colton's had done its work. Garrett's headache was gone. The sick feeling in his stomach was now caused only by the knowledge that he'd done things with the most unlikely lady in the kingdom last night. He could only hope she hadn't realized it was him. Or had she? No. That wasn't possible. First, it was surprising that Miss Lowndes would ever do any of the things they'd done last night. Garrett wouldn't have guessed she had it in her. He wouldn't believe for a moment she would have done them had she known she was doing them with
him
.

He opened the door to the gold salon and strode inside. Lucy was at the window staring across the front lawn. Cassandra was perched on the settee near the fireplace.

“Garrett,” Lucy said, spinning around. “Don't you look handsome today?”

He glanced down at what he was wearing. Gray trousers, white shirt and cravat, black boots, burgundy waistcoat. Nothing particularly different from any other day. “Thank you, Lucy.”

He made his way over and kissed her cheek. Then he made his way to Cassandra and leaned to do the same.

“How are you holding up?” he whispered to Cassandra. “Nerves not getting the best of you, I hope.”

She smiled and shook her head softly. “No. I'm quite fine.”

“Excellent.” He returned her smile before turning back to Lucy. “Now, what is it the two of you wanted to see me about? I can only imagine. Please tell me it has nothing to do with your Mrs. Bunbury plot. I refuse to be a part of it.”

Lucy crossed her arms over her chest and strode toward him. “It's nothing to do with that. We just wondered where you'd got off to last night.”

Garrett narrowed his eyes on his cousin. Did they know? No. They couldn't possibly.

“‘Off to last night'?” he repeated, shoving his hands in his pockets in his best effort to appear casual.

“Yes, we didn't see you at the ball after a bit. We were looking for you,” Cassandra added.

“I had a great deal to drink last night. Thanks to your brother. I believe I retired earlier than usual.”

“Ah, so you went to bed?” Lucy prodded.

“Yes, after a bit,” he replied.

“What were you doing before that?” Lucy asked.

Cassandra's cheeks flamed bright pink. Oh, bloody hell. They knew something.

“I was…” He took a breath. “I went to the upstairs drawing room. I was looking at the portraits.”

“Looking at the portraits in the upstairs drawing room?” Lucy repeated, making “looking at the portraits” sound positively lascivious.

“Yes. I was quite fascinated by them.” Wasn't it time to leave for the picnic? He tugged at his cravat. It was hot in here. He needed fresh air.

“Fascinated by the portraits?” Lucy echoed.

He opened his mouth to speak but Cassandra interrupted. “Were you with Mrs. Langford last night?”

His eyebrows shot up. Holy Christ, is that what they thought? “What exactly are you asking, Cassandra?”

Cassandra's cheeks turned pinker. “I mean, were you, were you looking at the portraits with her?”

“No.”

“Who were you looking at the portraits with?” Lucy countered.

Garrett narrowed his eyes on both of them. “Why are you two so interested in what I was up to last night?” If they knew what he'd actually been doing, and with whom, they wouldn't be asking these questions. He was quite safe.

“No reason,” Cassandra answered quickly, but Cassandra was a rubbish liar. They were both suspicious of … something.

“Lucy,” Garrett said in a warning tone, “I hope this has nothing to do with your promise to find a wife for me after you're done with your whatever-it-is with Miss Lowndes. I assure you I'm in no need of a wife and there is absolutely nothing going on between myself and Isabella Langford.”

Lucy raised her brows, too, but the skepticism was apparent on her face.

“Promise me you'll leave any sort of matchmaking on my behalf well and truly alone.”

Lucy shrugged one shoulder. “I have absolutely no intention of matching you with Mrs. Langford. Not to worry, my dear cousin.”

“Thank you,” Garrett said. “Now, I'm going out to the foyer to join the others for the picnic.”

“We'll be along,” Lucy replied simply, studying her gloves.

“Yes.” Cass nodded rapidly.

“Good.” Garrett made his way to the door as quickly as he could without looking as if he were trying to be quick about it. He had no desire to answer more questions from these two busybodies. Not today.

He breathed a sigh of relief as the drawing room door shut behind him. What did they know? Or did they only suspect? He sent up a prayer to the heavens, hoping it was merely conjecture.

*   *   *

After the door shut behind Garrett, Lucy turned to Cass and raised one eyebrow. “We have just been lied to.”

Cass took a deep breath. “It does appear so, yes.”

“And not just by Garrett, but by Jane as well,” Lucy added.

“Do you think it's possible they each don't know it was the other? They were both wearing dominoes, and Janie wasn't wearing her spectacles.”

Lucy tapped a finger against her cheek. “It's possible, I suppose, but if they didn't know, they wouldn't be working so hard to keep it from us. Garrett might, as he'd hardly be one to kiss and tell, but Janie, no. Janie is deliberately keeping this from us.”

Cass's eyes were wide as saucers. “You don't suppose they kissed, do you?”

“I don't know. I can't imagine it. But I do wonder what they did together after they sneaked off. Obviously something they don't want either of us to know about.”

“Perhaps they're embarrassed to tell us because we've always known they can barely tolerate each other. They can hardly admit to sneaking off together.” Cass gulped. “But you don't honestly think—”

“As difficult as it is to believe, I do think so. They kissed.”

Cass gasped. “No.”

“I admit it's difficult to conceive of. But the signs are all there.” Lucy counted off the points on her fingers. “They were incognito. They left together. They were alone for a time in the upstairs drawing room, and neither will admit they were there together.”

Cass pressed her palms to her cheeks. “But if neither of them will admit it, how will we ever discover what happened?”

Lucy paced in front of the windows, tapping her cheek. “This calls for a plan, Cass.”

“Oh, no. Not a plan.”

“Yes. A plan! To get to the bottom of this, to flush them out. If Garrett and Jane did sneak off together and kiss, they cannot be half as indifferent to each other as they pretend.”

“Yes, but— Oh, Lucy, you know what happens when you come up with one of your plans.”

“Yes! Things get done.” Lucy's eyes gleamed. “Are we not about to celebrate your wedding? An event that came about as a direct result of one of my plans?”

“I cannot argue with you there, Luce.” Cass pinched the bridge of her nose. “You've already come up with this particular plan, haven't you?”

Lucy's catlike grin had returned. She rubbed her hands together with obvious glee. “Of course I have, and we're going to need Daphne and Owen to help us.”

 

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

A picnic was the last place Jane wanted to be. Sprawling on the grass in the sun was not her sort of a pleasant time. She preferred the quiet coolness of a house and the sturdiness of a table and chair, but Cass wanted a picnic, so a picnic she would have. So Jane put on her favorite day dress, the white one with small flowers embroidered on it, and made her way downstairs.

The truth was, Jane had hidden. She'd hidden in the front drawing room until the large group of picnickers had all assembled in the foyer and then dutifully trotted out to the gravel drive in front of the grand manor house. They were to follow the trail to the left of the house into the meadow. While Jane intended to accompany them, she also intended to ensure Upton was at the front of the line and she at the back. She couldn't be certain how she would react in his presence. She needed time to think, and staying carefully away from him at the picnic was quite a good start.

She'd watched through the window until Upton had got safely on his way—with Mrs. Langford simpering on his arm, Jane noted with a bit of pique—then Jane counted twenty and marched out of the salon, through the front door, and onto the gravel drive.

“Janie, there you are!” Cass exclaimed the moment she appeared outside.

“I told you I'd make it to the picnic,” Jane replied with her own smile. “A lady has to eat sometime, doesn't she?” She opened her white parasol and waited for Cass and Julian to precede her down the path. The day was beautiful, and the smell of freshly scythed grass and bluebells wafted along the slight breeze.

“Where's Lucy?” Jane asked as she turned to hear a ruckus behind her. Lucy brought up the rear, her handsome duke of a husband accompanying her.

“What took you so long, Lucy?” Cass asked.

Lucy shrugged. “I was just … planning a few things.”

Jane glimpsed Daphne Swift and Owen Monroe coming out of the house. They all followed Cass and Julian down the path.

Jane didn't have time to wonder what her friends had been up to. She was far too preoccupied as she kept her eyes trained ahead for any sign of Upton. If the man doubled back, she might be forced to jump into the hedgerow and explain herself later. Thankfully, Upton remained far ahead during the entire stroll to the meadow.

Once they entered the field, Jane realized the picnic would not be quite as rustic as she'd envisioned. A team of servants bustled about half a dozen large tables with benches lining each one. White awnings were spread across their tops and each table had wide white linen cloths spread with decanters of wine and baskets holding loaves of bread, cheeses, grapes, strawberries, and an assortment of meat slices. “Thank goodness,” Jane breathed. “I'd thought I'd have to slap ants from my stockings.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Cass replied. “Who wants to sit in the grass?”

“Not I.” Jane stalled, wandering around in a useless little circle staring at the cloudless sky and trying to whistle, hoping Upton and Mrs. Langford would sit first and then she could choose a seat far away from them. She was thwarted when Lucy and Cass beckoned her to their table. “Come sit, Jane,” Lucy called.

Jane wrinkled her nose. Upton stood only a few paces away engaged in conversation with Mrs. Langford and another guest. It was too soon to tell where he would sit. All Jane could do was hope it was not at the same table.

“Garrett, we've saved you a seat,” Lucy called, waving to her cousin.

Blast.
Jane cursed under her breath.

“What was that?” Cass asked, her forehead wrinkling into a frown.

“Nothing.” Jane shook her napkin into her lap with much more precision than she had heretofore ever given the task.

“Is there a seat for Mrs. Langford as well?” Garrett called back.

Jane lowered her eyes and kept her gaze trained on her napkin.
Please don't let there be a seat for Mrs. Langford. Please
. She prayed to a God she wasn't certain she believed in.

“Yes, of course. We'll make room,” came Lucy's cheerful reply.

Moments later, Jane found herself looking up into the grinning face of Garrett Upton, the man she'd accidentally—not so accidentally—shared a passionate interlude with the night before. To make things worse, she was intensely aware of how
handsome
he happened to look today. His eyes were particularly green against the backdrop of the grass of the meadow and his slightly curly dark hair was a bit mussed as usual. She'd never realized how handsome he was. Why? Why had she never noticed how strong his jaw appeared? Or how straight his nose? For heaven's sake, what was happening to her? She should have worn her spectacles last night. Had she not traded them for a domino mask, she might not be waxing poetic about Upton's looks at the moment.

Jane cleared her throat and kept her gaze trained on her lap. That seemed the safest way to stop thinking about the man's firmly molded lips and dark brows. When she dared a peek, Upton immediately looked away. She took a tentative sip of the wine a footman had just poured. She'd never been so pleased to see a glass of wine.

Mrs. Langford broke the awkward silence. “Where did you get off to last night, Miss Lowndes? I didn't see you after the dancing.” Was there a bit of a sneer in the lady's voice or was Jane imagining it?

Jane nearly spat her wine. “I— We— I mean, I—”

“Jane was in the library reading,” Cass, that dear, offered. Thank heavens for Cass. Jane loved Cass.

“Ah.” Mrs. Langford's green eyes narrowed. “The library?”