The Unlikely Lady (18 page)

Jane pressed her nose to the cushion. “The turncoat.”

Upton made his way around to the front of the settee and Jane slowly turned to face him.

She spied a book sitting on the table in front of the settee. Desperate, she yanked it into her lap and quickly held it open in front of her face. “I'm sorry you came all the way in here. I cannot talk at the moment, Upton. I'm highly engrossed in this book.”

“
The Care and Feeding of Swine
?” came his sarcasm-tinged reply.

She slowly tipped the book to the side to read the cover.
Drat
. Poor choice, that. “Yes.” She nodded. “I've found I'm quite interested in the daily care of pigs of late.”

“It's upside down.” More sarcasm.

She exhaled, flaring her nostrils. There was no help for it. “Be that as it may—”

He snatched the book from her hands and flung it across the room. It landed with a thwack against the far wall. Upton stood in front of her with his feet braced apart and his hands on his hips. A muscle ticked in his jaw. “No you don't. You may hide from the world behind your precious books but you're not going to hide from me. Not tonight.”

Jane's hand flew to her throat. She forced herself to push up her chin and meet his gaze. His eyes shot green sparks. The reckoning was upon her. “Very well, Upton. Say what you must.” She clasped her hands in her lap.

He remained facing her, hands still on his hips. His breathing was labored. He searched her face. “I know it was you in the drawing room the other night.”

“Yes. You've already said as much.” She tried to keep her dastardly knees from shaking.

“Are you going to deny it?”

Jane fought her blush. “As much as I'd like to, what would be the point?”

“Thank you for that.” His shoulders relaxed a bit. He expelled his breath and let his hands drop to his sides.

In an attempt to distract him from her shaking legs, she plucked at the folds in her green gown. “I'm not doing you a favor, Upton. I'm merely attempting to spare myself more shame.”

He stood towering above her. “Did you know it was me? That night?”

She craned her neck to look up at him. “Please sit. You're making me nervous.” How on earth was she supposed to answer his question?

And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.

The Bible verse rang in her head. Mocking her. Oh, she knew her Bible verses. Perhaps she didn't agree with all of them. Or most of them. But she knew them.

She took a deep breath. It was time for the truth. “Yes, I knew it was you.”

Upton slid onto the settee next to her, leaned forward, and braced his elbows on his knees, staring ahead into the darkened room. “The entire time?”

“No. I discovered it about halfway through. That's why I didn't want to remove my mask.” She took another deep breath. She might as well ask him the same. “Did you know it was me?”

“Not until the next morning.” He hung his head. “I don't know what to say,” he murmured.

“Exactly why I didn't feel we needed to have this conversation,” she replied with a slight, humorless laugh.

“Jane, I—”

She held up a hand to stop him. He was either going to tell her he loved her, which she somehow couldn't picture happening, and also knew she couldn't hear, or he was going to tell her it had been a mistake, which she already knew. Neither needed to be said aloud.

“There's nothing to say, Upton. It's over. We needn't mention it ever again.”

His eyes were wide as he turned to look at her. “Needn't mention it again? Did it mean so little to you? Do you do that sort of thing often?”

Indignation flooded through her. She stopped plucking at her gown. Her hands turned into fists along the tops of her thighs. “
You're
questioning
me
? I am not the one who should have to answer for my behavior. I'm not the one who brought his
mistress
to a wedding!”

Upton's face contorted with amazement. “My
what
?”

Based on his reaction, Jane immediately had her doubts, but she'd already said the vile word and she wasn't about to back down. “You heard me. Your
mistres
s.”

He sat up straight and leaned closer to her, his face still registering disbelief. “Who, pray tell, do you believe is my mistress?”

She turned her face away and sniffed. “Don't insult my intelligence, Upton.”

“I would never dream of it,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Then you know I mean Mrs. Langford,” she replied through equally clenched teeth.

“I can assure you, Mrs. Langford is unequivocally
not
my mistress. I do not
have
a mistress. It's not my style, but if it was, I certainly wouldn't dishonor the widow of my deceased friend by making her my mistress. And I would never dishonor Cassandra and Swifdon by inviting a light o' love to their wedding. Have you gone mad?”

Jane snapped her mouth shut. He sounded so convincing. Could she have made a mistake? Oh, God. Of course she could have. “But Mrs. Langford said…”

“She said she was my mistress?” Surprise tinged his voice.

“Not precisely, but she implied … She said you were ‘quite close.'”

Upton pinched the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes, and shook his head. “Look, Jane, I admit Isabella seems to be interested in me, and she's been quite rude to you, but she is not now nor has she ever been my mistress.”

“So, I'm the only woman you've kissed at this house party?” The words sounded ridiculous as soon as they left her mouth but she truly wanted to know the answer.

His laugh was a short, wry chuckle. “The one and only. Despite what you think of me and my reputation, I don't make a habit of passionate interludes with ladies at my friends' house parties. You were stunningly beautiful that night. To be entirely candid, I've dreamed about it since.”

The air left Jane's body in a whoosh.
Stunningly beautiful
?
Dreamed about it?
Her hands trembled in her lap where she'd resumed the plucking of her skirts. Perfect. Now in addition to her legs, her hands were trembling. This had to be the precursor to apoplexy. His words reverberated throughout her body.
Dreamed about it since.
Oh, God. She'd dreamed about it too.

Stunningly beautiful.
Those two words played in Jane's head like a song. She opened her mouth to speak and closed it again. She opened it and closed it once more.

“I hope you're proud of yourself, Upton,” she finally managed. “You've done the impossible. You've rendered me speechless. What do you think of that?”

He turned his head and flashed her a grin. “That is a good start, but the more serious question is, what are we going to do about the fact that we kissed each other? I must confess, I enjoyed it immensely. I know you did too. You wouldn't let me stop, after all. So the more important question is … when are we going to do it again?”

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Garrett arrived at the stables the next morning exactly as planned. It was bloody early for an outing, but he'd agreed to this at dinner last night when Cassandra had suggested they all go for a ride. A dozen or so of the party guests were already wandering around the stables by the time he strolled into the large building.

There had been no nightmares last night. He hadn't slept. Instead, he'd spent the night thinking about his confrontation with Jane. What had he expected to come of it? He couldn't answer that. He'd only known he had to confront her to see if he could detect any sign of her supposed love for him. He'd seen nothing other than shock, which made him wonder if it were true.

Garrett admired Jane for matter-of-factly admitting to being Lady Blue. She hadn't said anything when he'd asked her when they would do it again. He'd been half jesting, half trying to determine if she did, indeed, have strong feelings for him. Jane had announced she had to get to bed and then she'd nearly flown from the room. Frankly, the entire evening had left Garrett more confused than before.

Jane was in the stables already. She stood with Cassandra and Lucy, wearing a blue riding habit that did little for her figure. It didn't matter. Her figure was burned in his brain.

A loud laugh drew his attention to the right. Mrs. Langford came strolling toward him. “Mr. Upton, there you are.”

He squared his shoulders and turned to face her. Isabella had been rude to Jane yesterday. Jane could more than take care of herself, but he refused to allow Isabella to imply to his friends there may be something indecent between them. Whatever she'd said, it had been enough for Jane to draw the conclusion that Isabella was his mistress. Guilt or no, he refused to allow that misconception to continue.

“Good morning, Mrs. Langford.” He gave her a tight smile.

She wore a smart emerald-green riding habit that hugged her every curve. Why was Jane's frumpy one making his breeches tight? He looked back at Jane. She turned away. He let out his breath and forced himself to turn back to Isabella. Extracting himself from her company this morning would be difficult.

“Where are we riding to?” Isabella slid a gloved hand over his arm.

“I believe we're riding to the church in the village and back.” Garrett could not resist glancing back at Jane again, who was absorbed in conversation with her friends.

“Sounds delightful,” Isabella replied. “I do hope you'll help me mount.” She looked into his eyes. He didn't like the way she had said the word “mount.” Garrett turned his attention to where the stable boys and grooms were preparing the horses. “Isn't that your footman?”

A scowl flitted across Isabella's face. “Oh, Boris, that dolt. I'd much rather have you assist me, Mr. Upton.” She batted her eyelashes at him. There was no mistaking the invitation in the depths of her pale green eyes.

He cleared his throat. “Very well.”

The team of grooms and stable boys began helping the ladies to mount. When Garrett looked again, Boris was gone. Garrett pasted on a smile and helped Isabella onto the frisky gray filly Cassandra had provided for her. He swung himself up onto his own mount. By the time he finished, Jane was already seated atop her own high-stepping filly. She had a smile on her face and the sunlight glinted off her spectacles. Was her hair looser in the knot today? She was lovely—frumpy riding habit notwithstanding.

Surprisingly, Isabella waited for Jane to come alongside them before she nudged her own mount into a trot. “Do you ride often, Miss Lowndes?”

“Not as often as I should, Mrs. Langford.”

“Good morning, Miss Lowndes,” Garrett interjected, feeling like an utter arse. Why was Isabella always near when he was trying to speak with Jane?

“Good morning, Mr. Upton.” Jane lifted her reins as if to make to move past the two of them, but Isabella stopped Jane with her words.

“Do you ride often enough to race, Miss Lowndes?”

Jane blinked. She let the reins settle back against the saddle. She turned her head to the side. “Race
you,
Mrs. Langford?”

“Yes,” came Isabella's overconfident reply.

Garrett tightened his grip on his own reins. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Jane couldn't say no to a challenge, especially not from someone she disliked.

“I'm not sure—” Garrett began.

“Do you ride often, Mrs. Langford?” Jane pursed her lips and regarded Mrs. Langford over the top of her spectacles.

Isabella's smug laughter followed. “On the contrary, I rarely ride. But something tells me I could best
you,
Miss Lowndes. You seem more interested in books than horses.”

Garrett winced. There was no chance Jane wouldn't scoop up Isabella's gauntlet and slap her with it.

“By all means, then.” The gleam of competition shone in Jane's eyes. “I'm eager to show you how wrong you are. Where shall we race to?”

Garrett rubbed the back of his neck. Jane wasn't about to listen to reason coming from him. Excusing himself, he rode to where Lucy was trotting ahead of Cassandra, Claringdon, and Swifdon. “Jane's accepted a challenge to race Mrs. Langford.”

Lucy's brows shot up. “Has she?” A sly smile settled on her face.

“Yes,” Garrett replied grimly.

“Excellent, we'll have something to divert us,” Lucy said.

Garrett pushed his hat back on his forehead. “You think it's a good idea?”

“I don't see why not. I'll be interested to see it. Jane never loses at anything she sets her mind to.”

Garrett groaned. “You don't plan to stop her, then?”

“Stop her?” Lucy laughed. “I intend to wager upon her.”

Garrett shook his head. By the time he returned to where Jane and Isabella cantered next to each other, they were busily discussing the details.

“See that field in the distance?” Jane pointed to a meadow a half-mile away.

A quick single nod from Isabella. “Yes.”

“Shall we race to the other side of it? There's a tree at the far end. Do you see it?”

Garrett followed Jane's gaze. A lone tree stood at the far corner of the field.

Another nod from Isabella.

“That shall be the finish,” Jane declared.

“Perfect.” Isabella's face was wreathed in a smile. She turned in the sidesaddle and called to the group. “You must all stop and watch us, everyone! Miss Lowndes and I intend to race to that tree.” She pointed with her riding crop.

A great deal of murmuring ensued while Lucy led the betting. The entire company lined up along the side of the meadow.

“Make the call to start, Mr. Upton,” Isabella prompted with a too bright smile.

Removing his hat, Garrett scrubbed his hand through his hair. He turned his attention to Jane. “You insist upon doing this?”