The Unlikely Lady (33 page)

A slow smile spread across Lucy's face. “Aren't you the expert in that particular field?”

Jane frowned. “Yes, but how can we get a writing sample from Isabella?”

Lucy snapped her fingers. “I have one!”

“What?”

“I have one. She wrote to thank me for my kindness at the house party.” Lucy rolled her eyes.

“Ugh. She did?”

“Yes. Obsequious, wasn't it? I get that quite a lot now that I'm a duchess.”

“Where is her letter?” Jane asked frantically.

“I'll be right back.” Lucy hurried out of the room while Jane struggled to remain calm. She would love to prove something Mrs. Langford had done wrong. Make her stand accountable for just
one
of her devious schemes.

Lucy returned waving the other letter in her hand. “Here it is.”

Jane took the two letters and hurried to the writing desk, where she flattened them side by side. She studied the writing of first one, then the other.

“Well?” Lucy prodded, impatiently tapping her slipper.

“Give me a moment.” Jane narrowed her eyes. “It's definitely not Isabella's handwriting on this letter from Harold.”

“But…?”

“Look, here, the line of the
l
is quite similar. The
a
also looks suspiciously like hers. She may have copied the words from letters from Harold, but she cannot entirely disguise her own penmanship.” Jane continued to study the letters intently. “The
h
. There's an extra tail on the top. Just like hers.”

Lucy peered over Jane's shoulder. “So you
do
think it's a forgery?”

Jane lifted her gaze and pushed up her spectacles. “Yes. She forged this letter.”

Lucy pressed her lips together and crossed her arms over her chest. “That evil minx. How dare she try to play on my poor cousin's sense of guilt?”

“Your cousin can take care of himself,” Jane replied. “But I refuse to allow her to get away with this.” Jane stood and straightened her shoulders. “I intend to do something about it.”

“What are you going to do, Jane?” Lucy asked.

“I'm going to confront Medusa. And make her eat this letter.” She waved the fake letter in the air.

“And then?” Lucy prodded.

“Then I'm going to ask your cousin to marry me.”

Lucy's mouth fell open. “Do you mean it?”

Jane nodded slowly and took a deep breath. “Yes. Marriage has always frightened me. I never wanted to answer to a man. But Garrett is my equal. He'll be my partner. He's always treated me with kindness and respect. I don't fear marriage any longer, Lucy. I
covet
it. How do you like that?”

Lucy's eyes shimmered with tears. “Oh, Janie. I'm so happy for you.”

Jane shot Lucy an impudent look over her shoulder. “First, I need you to help me with the scheme to end all schemes, Your Boldness. It will solve the problem with my mother, my scandal, and Isabella Langford all at once.” She waved the fake letter again. “I'm going to need this, and we're going to need Derek's help with something. Something big!”

 

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

“I must say I'm surprised you would come here, Miss Lowndes.” Isabella Langford strutted across her purple silk drawing room toward Jane. The room was nearly as garish as the woman herself, with opulent oil paintings and huge palm trees in pots in all four corners.
No accounting for taste
.

Jane had waited in the salon on Charles Street for the better part of an hour before the woman finally deigned to grace her with her company.

Jane straightened her back to compete with Isabella's haughty stature. “Why are you surprised, Mrs. Langford? You haven't known me to back down from a fight before today, have you?”

Isabella shrugged one shoulder. “If you're here to threaten me about—”

“I'm not here to threaten you. I'm here to tell you something.”

“What's that?”

Jane crossed her arms over her chest and firmed her jaw. “Leave Garrett Upton alone.”

Isabella laughed loud and long. Jane had to fight the urge to cover her ears, the sound was so strident. “You haven't spoken to him recently, have you?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“No matter. Suffice it to say the last time I spoke with him, he was suffering from a temporary bout of insanity. But I still intend to have him, Miss Lowndes. Mark my words.”

Jane raised her chin. “Don't pretend you love him.”

Isabella laughed again, a short bark this time. “Of course I don't love him. Who said anything about love? Love has little place inside a marriage. I never loved Harold either, though the poor sop loved me. He loved me desperately.” She sighed.

“You're hideous.”

“You're na
ï
ve.”

“Why do you want to marry Garrett if you don't love him?”

“Good God. You're more na
ï
ve than I thought. I'm not certain if he told you, but Garrett's been paying my bills, Miss Lowndes.” She gestured to the gaudily decorated room. “Look around you. I've grown quite accustomed to this way of living. Better than any I could have afforded as the wife of a soldier. Harold and I never lived this way.”

“So you're using Garrett for money?”

“I quite enjoy living like a countess.” Isabella smiled tightly. “Inheriting the title one day also won't be half bad.”

“Why don't you just find some other rich man to marry?”

“So easy is it? Is that why
you've
been unsuccessful in the marriage mart?”

Jane clutched her reticule so tightly her knuckles turned white. “I haven't been attempting to marry.”

“So you say. It's not as easy as it seems, I assure you. With Garrett, I have the upper hand.”

Jane narrowed her eyes on the widow. “The upper hand?”

“Guilt, Miss Lowndes. It's extremely useful.”

Jane counted three. She desperately wanted to slap Medusa but that would hardly be helpful. “You mean Garrett's guilt over Harold's death?”

“Of course.”

Jane loosened the strings on her reticule. “I know you forged the letter from Harold to Garrett and I can prove it.”

If the widow was surprised, her face didn't register it. She looked bored instead. “Really? How can you prove it?”

Jane pulled the letter from the purse. “I compared the letter with your handwriting.”

Isabella sneered. “Is that what you were doing in Garrett's study yesterday? Sneaking around stealing letters?”

“Garrett deserves to know the truth.”

“Even if you were right, Miss Lowndes, what do you want me to do about it?”

“I want you to admit it.”

“Fine, I admit it. Who cares?”

“I care. Garrett cares. I intend to show Garrett the letters and tell him you confessed. He'll never marry you.”

A slow smirk spread across the widow's face. “What if I told you he already knows?”

Jane sucked in her breath. “No he doesn't.”

“Yes he does. But he'll still marry me. I'm certain of it. I have one final card to play. He's beautiful, my future husband. I'll give him that. Beautiful, but stupid.”

“How dare you! You don't even know him. Garrett's far from stupid.”

The widow tapped a tapered fingernail against her chin. “I used to think so too, but now … I'm not so certain.”

“He already knows you tampered with my saddle the day of the race. He knows you had your footman lock him in the wine cellar.”

“Yes, and he knows the letter is a fake. At least he suspects it. But he'll marry me nevertheless. That's how na
ï
ve you are, Miss Lowndes. You actually think the truth matters. Besides, what do you care? I thought you believed him to be a reprobate.”

“He's not a reprobate. He's intelligent and funny and opinionated. He loves to attend the theater and he's wonderful with his dogs. He's kind to servants and he's good to his mother. He gave me a first edition Mary Wollstonecraft, and he's allowed your husband's death to make him sick with guilt all these years. He's a strong, good, noble man. You don't deserve him, Isabella.”

Another sharp bark of laughter from Isabella. “You
do
?”

“No. I don't deserve him either, but at least I'll spend every day of my life trying.”

Isabella's lip curled. “People who fancy themselves in love make me ill.”

“Stay away from him.” Jane's voice simmered.

Isabella rolled her eyes. “I'm going to have to ask you to leave.” She rang for her butler. “Garrett Upton is going to be my husband and I insist that
you
stay away from him.”

Jane raised her chin and glowered at Isabella. “Whatever your so-called one final card is, I wish you well, Mrs. Langford, because you're going to have to fight me for him, and I never lose.”

 

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

Garrett strode into the church. With each step, anger and bile rose in his throat. He was through playing Isabella's games. He'd received a letter from her this morning with a vague threat, demanding he meet her at St. George's at ten o'clock. He was here, but only to tell her once and for all that if she didn't leave him alone, he would have her arrested for every vile thing she'd done.

Isabella Langford was beyond evil. How had Harold, the good man that he was, stood being married to her?

Garrett squinted. The church was dim … and empty. Isabella hadn't yet arrived. He'd tried to see Jane last night but her mother had informed him that she was with Lucy. A visit to Lucy's house had revealed that the two women were not at home. No matter. Garrett intended to go straight to Lucy's house this morning after he finished this odious task. He would beg Jane to marry him. No, he would demand it. No, he would ask. She had to say yes, didn't she? She loved him as much as he loved her. He was certain of it.

The door at the side of the altar opened and a bride dressed in white, a veil covering her face, came walking out. The vicar came out, too, dressed in grand vestments. He made his way to the center of the altar.

Garrett sucked in his breath. Isabella had gone too far this time. If she thought he would marry her merely because she'd lured him to a church and arrived wearing a wedding gown, she was sorely mistaken.

Garrett made his way up to the altar. He took a deep breath and glanced at Isabella. He couldn't see her evil face through her veil. “Reverend, you don't understand. I can't—”

“Would you please uncover your bride's face?” the vicar asked.

“I'd rather not,” Garrett replied. If the man thought it was odd, so be it.

“I insist upon it, my son,” the vicar replied in a firm, steady voice.

Garrett took another deep breath. Very well. He would uncover her face, but that hardly changed the fact that he refused to marry her.

He turned toward her and placed both hands at the bottom of the thick veil. He lifted it slowly, trying to decide how best to handle the next few awkward moments. Finally, he flipped the veil over her head in one swift motion and took a step back.

It wasn't Isabella. It was … Jane.

She smiled at him brightly. “Thank you. It was quite hot under there, Upton. I was concerned my spectacles would fog.”

Garrett's jaw dropped. “Jane, wha—”

“I forged the letter asking you to meet here today,” Jane whispered.

Garrett only had a moment to process that before the door on the side of the altar opened again and his mother, Daphne Swift, Owen Monroe, Rafe Cavendish, the Hunt brothers, Lucy, and Claringdon all came strolling out.

Jane nodded to the vicar. “Will you please give us a moment, Reverend?”

“Of course.” The vicar nodded and moved into the small group of people.

Jane fell to one knee. She clasped Garrett's hand. “Would you do me the honor of marrying me, Upton?”

His face broke into a huge smile. He pulled her back up to her feet, still clasping her hands. “Are you jesting?”

“Of course not. I know Mrs. Langford has threatened to ruin my reputation but, as Lucy says, I can hardly be a scandal if I
marry
the man with whom I was scandalous.”

“But—”

“Mother and Father have already approved. They're thrilled actually. They never thought I would marry.” She turned toward the door in the altar. “Come out and tell Mr. Upton how thoroughly you approve of him, Mama. I think he needs to hear it.”

The door opened and Sir Charles and Lady Lowndes came out. Jane's mother had a wide smile on her face.

“We do. We truly do,” Lady Lowndes said.

“It's quite true, young man,” Sir Charles agreed.

“I need to give Mrs. Bunbury a raise,” Lady Lowndes added.

Jane and Lucy exchanged sly glances just before Jane turned back to Garrett to hide her laughter. “You see? They're thrilled,” she whispered. “I hate to please my mother quite this much, but I suppose there can be no help for it.”

He squeezed her hand. “Why's that?”

“Because I'm desperately in love with you, Upton. I'm told that when one is desperately in love, one marries, regardless of the title one may acquire in so doing.”

“That is true!” Lucy called.

“You're not supposed to be listening, Lucy,” Jane called back.

“Oh, quite right. I'm sorry. Carry on.”

Garrett swallowed the lump in his throat. He searched Jane's face. This was a great deal to absorb, but he had no doubts. There was only one problem. “As much as I'd like to say yes, we don't have a license.”

Jane nodded. “Yes, we do. Derek procured one for us last night. It's extremely convenient to know a duke.”

Garrett turned toward Claringdon. “You got us a license?”