The Unlikely Lady (21 page)

Jane rang for Eloise to help her put the lilacs in water. Then she settled back against the pillows to continue reading her book. She didn't have much more time to enjoy the peace and quiet. Mama would be here this afternoon. Jane could only hope the Mrs. Bunbury plan would work. As for the idea of starting a scandal, she was beginning to realize how dangerous that particular plan had been. She'd do well to stay far away from scandal until the house party ended.

*   *   *

Thankfully, by the late afternoon, Jane was able to walk on her ankle again. It was still a bit tender and she had to rest it more than she would have liked, but she was no longer confined to bed.

After the hunt, the wedding guests began to arrive. Along with Jane's parents, Lucy's parents, Lord and Lady Upbridge, came. Garrett's mother, Lucy's Aunt Mary, bustled in, hugging everyone and declaring that Cass had never looked more lovely. Derek's brothers, Adam and Collin Hunt, arrived as well, and so did Lord Berkeley, one of Garrett's good friends from school whom they had all met in Bath the previous summer.

The wedding was to be held the next morning and the festivities would last well into the night. Jane was torn. Part of her was relieved that the house party would soon be over and she could go back to reading her books and ensuring that Mrs. Cat and her kittens had enough to eat. But another part of her … a part she didn't want to fully admit to, was a bit melancholy over the thought of leaving the party, and Garrett.

Though, admittedly, Jane had little time to think about Garrett. Well, less time than usual. She was busy bustling around—as best she could on her tender ankle—in an attempt to keep her mother from meeting Mrs. Bunbury.

Jane hobbled a few doors down to her mother's room to greet her.

“Your father's in the study with the other gentlemen,” her mother announced. “What is it about gentlemen and studies?” She shook her head.

“It's lovely to see you, Mama.” Jane kissed her on the cheek.

“How is your leg, dear?” her mother asked, watching her slow progression across the room. “I nearly had an apoplexy when Lady Cassandra's footman came to fetch your spectacles.”

“It was just a small tumble from a horse. My pride was hurt much more than my ankle.”

A worry line creased her mother's brow. “Oh, Jane, please don't tell me you were racing gentlemen on horseback. That's hardly the behavior one looks for in a wife and—”

It was typical of her mother to be more worried about her daughter's reputation than her health. “No, Mama. I was racing another
lady
on horseback. I would have won, too, if the saddle hadn't given way.”

Her mother put her hands on her hips and clucked her tongue. “Where was Mrs. Bunbury when this was going on?”

Jane nearly winced. “Mrs. Bunbury was there. She approved. It was all in good fun.”

“I'd like to meet Mrs. Bunbury at the first opportunity.”

“And so you shall,” Jane replied. “She's, uh, gone off to the village just now, to fetch some supplies for the poultice she's been using on my ankle. Lucy swears by it.”
Must remember to ask Lucy to make me a poultice.

Her mother wrinkled up her nose. “The Morelands don't have the necessary ingredients for a poultice?”

“Er, not this poultice. I believe it requires eye of newt or something like that.”

Jane's mother shook her head again. “There you go again with that wild imagination. Gentlemen are rarely interested in ladies who are humorous.”

“That's a shame,” Jane mumbled under her breath.

“What was that, dear?”

“Come downstairs with me, Mama. I'll lean on you so I may greet Papa. Perhaps I can coax him out of the study.”

“We should get you a cane,” her mother replied.

“No, thank you. I'm not old enough for a cane, and I refuse to succumb to such accoutrements before it's time.”

Jane's mother rolled her eyes. Hmm. Perhaps that's where
she
got it. The thought made Jane smile. But thankfully, Hortense agreed without any more questions about the poultice, the cane, or Mrs. Bunbury, and the two made their way downstairs.

As they slowly progressed along the corridor, Jane relaxed a bit. Goodness. This concentrating on her mother and the Mrs. Bunbury plot bit was good for her. She hadn't thought about Upton in entire minutes.

*   *   *

Garrett had spent most of the afternoon greeting various acquaintances as they arrived. In addition to Garrett's mother, Rafferty Cavendish, one of the top spies for the War Office, was greeted by Cassandra and Julian as if he were their brother. Rafe had been with Donald Swift when he'd died. The younger man had taken it hard. He blamed himself, but everyone knew he couldn't have saved Donald. The fact that Rafe was still alive was a miracle in itself.

Jane's mother and father had arrived too. Sir Charles was a known academic. Apparently he'd passed his keen abilities to his only child. Jane's mother seemed less cerebral, but she was certainly a good-looking lady and was pleasant enough. Garrett wondered at the type of woman who would make a little girl feel bad for being overweight. Sometimes parents were cruel.

Garrett was greatly looking forward to the dance that evening. He never looked forward to dances. It was fine to see friends and have a good time, but there was something else about tonight. Something different, special. If he were honest, he would admit he was looking forward to seeing Jane again. He'd left her bedchamber abruptly earlier, which was probably for the best. He shouldn't have been in there in the first place, but he hadn't been able to help himself. When she mentioned Harold, the memories had been too much for him. The walls had seemed to be closing in around him. What could he say? The man had died in front of him. Died
for
him. That wasn't something Garrett wanted to revisit during waking hours. He did it often enough in his dreams.

Jane had sent him a note this afternoon. She wanted to be there for the pleasantries, she'd written.

Learning about her and her childhood had been enlightening. Now he had a glimpse into why Jane had such a tough exterior. Her childhood might have been privileged, but it had also been sad. No wonder she and Lucy had become fast friends. They were quite alike, both rejected by the Society they'd been told they must be a part of.

But tonight was for celebrating Cass and Julian's wedding. Even if Jane couldn't dance with him, he'd bring her a teacake or three. He'd coax another smile out of her and perhaps a blush. Garrett whistled as he strolled down the corridor.

“Mr. Upton.”

He stopped short at the sound of Isabella's voice. He turned to see her standing behind him.

“Yes.” He moved toward her slowly, dread tugging at his gut.

“May I speak with you, privately, for a moment?”

Garrett sucked air through his nostrils. “Very well.” He moved to the side of the corridor near the wall, stepping behind a table to ensure he kept a distance between the two of them.

He watched her carefully. After seeing Isabella's footman in the stables, Garrett had his suspicions as to what had happened to Jane's saddle. But until he had proof, he intended to give the widow a wide berth. “What is it?” he asked.

Isabella let a hand trail along the edge of her d
é
colletage. “Mr. Upton … Garrett.” She looked up at him shyly. “May I call you Garrett?”

“I don't think that's—”

“You know I came here, to Surrey, I mean, to see you. I'm not particularly well acquainted with Lady Cassandra or Lord Swifdon.”

“Yes, I know,” Garrett replied, struggling to remain polite. “I wondered why you felt it necessary to follow me here.” He lowered his voice even though they were alone. “If you need more money or—”

Isabella squeezed her eyes shut, a pained expression on her face. She held up a hand. “No. It's not about money. You've been quite generous to us. It's just that…” She opened her eyes, braced a hand on the table, and stared at him. Garrett had the uneasy feeling many a lesser man had fallen prey to that beautiful face. Like Harold Langford, perhaps. “You must know I've developed feelings for you, Garrett.”

Garrett took a step back. “Feelings?”

“Yes. We've been in each other's company a great deal in London of late and I—I've come to care for you.”

Garrett cleared his throat. “I hope you won't be offended when I tell you this is a surprise to me, Isabella.”

She arched a brow and stepped back, folding her arms over her chest. “Don't play coy, Garrett. You must have noticed my interest in you.”

He nodded. “Since we've been here in Surrey, yes, but earlier, in London—”

“I'm telling you now.” She stamped her foot, but then smiled at him sweetly and allowed her arms to fall to her sides. “Don't you think I'm beautiful, Garrett?”

Sweat beaded on his forehead. “That is hardly the point, Mrs. Langford.”

“You called me Isabella before.” She quickly moved around the table in a swish of skirts and pulled his hand to her bosom. “Don't stop.”

Garrett pulled his hand from her grasp. “I don't think that's wise.”

Her chest rose and fell. Her eyes searched his face. “Why? Because you feel guilty for falling in love with me? Because of Harold?”

Garrett stared off, out the window. “I do feel guilt, terrible guilt, but it's not for the reason you think.”

“What reason then?” Isabella demanded, staring up at him, her lips quivering.

Garrett cursed under his breath and turned his head sharply to face her. “Isabella,” he whispered, “it's high time I told you. Your husband died saving my life.”

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Isabella's face drained of color. Her pale pink lips continued to tremble and her eyes searched Garrett's face as if she'd learn the rest of the story there.

“What do you mean?” she whispered sharply.

Garrett shoved his hand through his hair and paced toward the window. “It's true. He died saving my life. Your husband is dead because of
me
.”

“I don't understand.”

Garrett closed his eyes. The guilt pummeled him. “As you know, we were at Zornova. I went down, a bullet in my shoulder and another in my thigh. It was bad, but I was able to crawl.”

Garrett expelled his breath in a deep rush. It all came back to him, the haunting memories, the awful screams of men dying around him, the acrid smell of the thick, nearly impenetrable smoke. And the sickening sweet smell of … blood.

“I was wheezing, grabbing at my chest. I looked up through the smoke to see another French soldier with his rifle aimed at me. I was wounded too badly to move quickly. I said my prayers.”

Isabella gasped.

Garrett took another deep breath. “Harold saw it too. He ran toward me. He launched himself in front of the fire. He saved my life, the brave, mad fool. He gave his life for mine.” Garrett turned to look at Isabella. Would she hate him? Could she forgive?

“It sounds like something Harold would do.” Her voice sounded more full of pique than hatred.

Garrett hung his head. “He was the best man I ever knew. I owe him my life.”

“And that's why you refuse to have anything to do with me?”

Garrett furrowed his brow. How could she be worried about that after what he'd just said? “You haven't known the truth about me, Isabella. Now you do. I expected your hatred or at least your anger. I deserve both.”

“What if I told you I forgive you? If I said I still want to be with you?”

Garrett shook his head. “I'd say I don't understand. But regardless, when I see you, I'm reminded of Harold. There are few moments when I'm not reminded of Harold but you're his widow and I just can't—”

“I understand,” Isabella said. She picked up her skirts and swept away down the corridor, leaving Garrett with the distinct impression that she didn't understand at all.

 

CHAPTER THIRTY

Jane stared at the sparkly silver gown that encased her body. Tonight's grand dance wouldn't rival the one to be held the following evening, but it would be unforgettable just the same.

“That gown looks stunning on you,” Lucy declared.

Jane nearly blushed. “It's far, too, ahem, tight. Even after Eloise helped me with the seams.”

Not only was the d
é
colletage far more risqu
é
than she would normally wear, the sparkle was far more sparkly than anything she'd ever owned. Of course she couldn't help smiling at herself in the reflection in the looking glass. Would Upton think she was
stunningly beautiful
tonight?

“It looks much better on you than it ever did on me,” Lucy added. “Now, here, take this.” She handed Jane the vial of lilac perfume.

Jane took the tiny glass bottle, her stomach clenching into excited knots. She promptly dabbed a bit behind both ears. Would Garrett Upton lick it off later?

A blush heated both her ears. She couldn't look at Lucy when she had those thoughts. She should have told Lucy and Cass about her feelings for Garrett, but she just couldn't. Not yet. Not when it was all too new.

The perfume-licking bit wasn't Jane's only scandalous thought. She intended to kiss Garrett again. She would have to elude her mother's watchful eyes to accomplish it, but she had years of experience in that quarter.

Something had happened between her and Garrett since he'd come to her room and brought her lilacs and Mary Wollstonecraft. Jane's belly fluttered. Whatever it was, it was there, and undeniable. She wanted to kiss him again, desperately. Tonight.

She caught her reflection one final time. “Too bad I don't have a more elegant pair of spectacles, but at least they match the silver of my gown.” She chuckled at that thought.