The Unlikely Lady (9 page)

He leaned back against the cushions that rested on the wall behind them and crossed his legs at the ankles, working diligently to appear nonchalant. “You've been reading too many novels, Miss Lowndes. Your imagination has quite got the best of you. Mrs. Bunbury is quite lax in her patronage.”

“It's not possible to read too many novels, Upton, and I can only hope my imagination
always
has the best of me.”

“Why don't you tell me, then, Miss Lowndes? Why do you think Mrs. Langford has come?”

Miss Lowndes flipped over two more cards. “I win!”

“Was there ever any doubt?” he replied with his usual sarcasm.

She arched another brow at him, but her smile was a bit distracting. “Don't change the subject, Upton. I have no idea why Mrs. Langford came all the way from London to spend time in your company. It seems entirely illogical to me. But then again, several things about Mrs. Langford seem illogical to me.”

He did his best to sound bored. “Like what?”

“You don't find it odd that a war widow has a governess and a tutor, lives on Charles Street, and has more trunks than Lucy does?”

He cleared his throat. Damn Miss Lowndes and her uncanny intelligence, not to mention her curiosity. “I'm not certain that's any of my business,” he offered.

“Isn't it?” Miss Lowndes shuffled the cards in her hands. “You seem to be preoccupied with
my
Mrs. Bunbury. It seems only fair that I pay a bit of attention to
your
Mrs. Langford.”

“That is patently ridiculous. Mrs. Bunbury doesn't exist.”

“Which is precisely why my task shall be much easier than yours.” Miss Lowndes smiled at him sweetly. “I have no idea why Mrs. Langford followed you here from London, Upton, but I intend to find out.”

 

CHAPTER TWELVE

The following evening, Jane stared at her reflection in the looking glass in her bedchamber. Dull brown hair and plain brown eyes stared back at her. She sighed. She'd never be as slender and lovely as Lucy, or Mrs. Langford, no matter what she did. Tonight she'd actually made an effort. She'd allowed Lucy's maid to help her dress. She'd spent more time preparing herself for the evening's festivities than she ever had for a social event before. But why?

The day had been spent playing croquet on the lawn with the ladies while the gentlemen went shooting. Mrs. Langford had been mildly pleasant though the narrowed-eyed stares she'd given Jane every time she'd noticed her looking were a bit disconcerting. Mostly the woman spent her time trying to sidle up and be friendly with Lucy and Cass. Apparently, she wanted to be liked by Upton's closest friends. Jane was only glad she wasn't considered one of them. She'd left the widow to her efforts in the afternoon. Jane had forgone tea to sneak upstairs and read another novel.

But tonight, tonight was something different entirely. Her hair had been pulled back in a loose chignon, much different from her normal tight bun. Her cheeks had been rubbed with the smallest hint of pink rouge, and she'd even allowed Lucy to spray a bit of perfume in her general direction. Jane had made a show of coughing and gagging as if she would die from it but she wasn't unpleased with the result. Lilacs had always been a favorite scent of hers.

“This perfume is said to drive gentlemen wild,” Lucy said with a sly smile. “The perfumer told me so.”

Jane gawked at her. “Then I'm washing it off, immediately.”

“Don't be such a ninny,” Lucy countered, her eyes full of mischief. “Don't you want to see what comes of it? I daresay you could do with a bit of driving gentlemen wild.”

Jane crossed her arms over her chest and glared at her friend. “What gentlemen? And why in the world would I want to drive any of them wild?”

Lucy set down the vial and plunked her hands on her hips. “Seriously, Jane? Must we have
the
talk? I was under the impression you already knew a good deal about what goes on between a man and a woman behind closed doors, but if I must explain—”

“No. No. No. Thank you very much,” Jane rushed to reply. “I've read all about that subject and am well educated on the—ahem—ins and outs of it. I simply mean that
I
have no cause to drive a gentleman wild. Tonight or any night.”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “I'm certain the perfumer only said it so I'd purchase a larger vial. It worked, too, though I daresay I don't need perfume to drive Derek wild, I just have to—”

“That is quite enough, thank you.” Jane resisted the urge to put her hands over her ears. Thankfully, Lucy gathered up her vial of wild-making perfume and left with a wink and an “I'll see you downstairs.”

Now Jane was alone with her lilac scent, borrowed gown, and reflection in the looking glass. She sighed for a third time. A masquerade. She was not looking forward to it. She blinked at her reflection. What would it be like to be as beautiful as Lucy … or Mrs. Langford? She pulled the fan her mother insisted she carry with her at all times out of her reticule. She snapped it open, held it in front of her face, and batted her eyelashes at herself over the top of the silk folds. “Good evening, my lord. Why, of course you may have this dance.” She giggled. That was just ridiculous. Eyelash batting and fan snapping. She closed the fan and stuffed it back into her reticule. The reticule was lighter tonight. She'd left her ubiquitous book on the bedside table. She'd promised Cass she would be social and social she would be, pretend chaperone notwithstanding.

Jane leaned in closer to the looking glass and eyed her freckles. She'd tried to scrub them off like bits of dirt when she was a child. Other children had teased her about them. Now they'd faded into small flecks beneath her wide brown eyes but they still remained, mocking her. Reminding her she would never be a beauty. It was just as well. As if the fact that she'd been a large child hadn't been enough to drive the other children away or cause them to make fun of her. “Plump” was the word her mother had used. Thank God she'd shed the extra weight as she'd grown into a young woman. Her mother had been relieved, but Jane had never divested herself of her love of sweets and teacake. She might not be the plump little girl she'd once been, but she'd never be the willowy thin thing that Cass was or have Lucy's diminutive shape. Mrs. Langford's goddesslike perfection? Hardly.

Jane had spent her childhood telling herself she didn't care that the other children didn't want to play with her. She'd always been more interested in reading and learning and going to galleries and museums than making herself up and going to parties. She gazed down at her gown, a gorgeous ice-blue concoction that made her look more—ahem—voluptuous than she'd ever looked before. Her breasts were about to make their own debut. Lucy's maid had spent the last two days taking out the seams to make the gown fit Jane. On Lucy, it had been a bit flowy. On Jane, it was anything but. In fact, the effect was quite a difference from anything she'd ever worn before. Despite its scandalousness, Jane had little doubt her mother would adore this gown. If Mama believed Jane had a chance at finally attracting a suitor, she'd no doubt add more rouge to Jane's cheeks and suggest even lower d
é
colletage.

Jane straightened her shoulders. She'd stared at herself long enough. It was time to go. She reached for the matching ice-blue domino mask Lucy had procured for her. It looked quite decadent with a large white feather sweeping across one side. Domino masks and spectacles did not mix. Jane took one last look in the mirror and pulled her spectacles slowly down her nose. She blinked at the blur of pale skin and blue fabric and brown hair reflected in front of her. Her eyesight was hopeless. She could barely see her hand in front of her face without her spectacles.

She stood and carefully made her way to the door. At least she thought it was the door. It was the big blur of brown in the middle of the wall with the gleaming golden blob in the middle. This would not do. She had to use her spectacles. She hurried back and pulled them from the tabletop. Then she held them up as best she could in front of her mask and made her way down to the ballroom. Just outside the entrance, she folded the spectacles and tucked them into the white satin reticule that swung jauntily from her wrist. Funny how being without her book made her feel shy, vulnerable. It was a first for her. Tonight she would stay, and dance, and attempt to have a grand time. At a ball. She shook her head. Who was she becoming?

No doubt Upton would have some impertinent comment to make about the fact that she wasn't holding a book for once. She scowled. Why was she thinking about Upton of all people? Upton would probably be so distracted by Mrs. Langford, he wouldn't spare Jane a second thought. What did she care?

Upton.

Why had she challenged him last night with her vow to find out why Mrs. Langford had followed him? Other than the fact that he'd angered her the day before, telling her how to run her life. She wasn't a fool. She knew Lucy's schemes could end up causing trouble. She'd been around for the last two, hadn't she? As long as she kept Lucy's imagination from running wild, they might manage a small, simple,
controlled
scandal. But Upton had been so certain of himself. She'd wanted to take down his smug demeanor a notch. After all, how did
he
like it when someone meddled in
his
affairs?

Enough about Upton. Jane had more important things to concentrate on, like not tripping and falling flat on her face in front of a ballroom full of the
ton
's best. She lifted her chin. Tonight the entire ballroom would see a new Jane Lowndes. One who wore beautiful ice-blue gowns with daring d
é
colletage, and feathered domino masks, and elegant chignons, and was sans both book and spectacles. Tomorrow she would go back to being the bluestocking spinster they all knew she truly was.

Daphne Swift was the first to see her when Jane hesitantly entered the ballroom. The younger woman squealed. Truly
squealed
. “Jane, is that you?”

Daphne was a lovely blur of yellow silk, her golden hair piled high atop her head. She gave Jane the impression of a glowing candle. “Daphne, is that you? I cannot be certain without my spectacles.”

Daphne's tinkling laughter followed. “Yes, it's me, Jane.”

Jane nodded. “Very well. I would be ever so grateful if you would point me in the direction of Lucy and Cass.”

Daphne laughed again and entwined her arm through Jane's. “I'll take you to them.”

The two made their way through the blur of the crowd. Jane was ever so glad for the assistance. This was why bluestocking spinsters who wore spectacles did not attend masquerades with domino masks. Incidents might occur. Embarrassing ones like talking to a plant all evening or tripping and falling headlong into a duke. Though, to be fair, she believed Derek Hunt was the only duke in attendance and he would no doubt be forgiving, but still, the entire prospect was fraught with peril. Though that might be just the sort of scandal she was looking for. Hmm. Perhaps talking to a plant wasn't scandalous enough. Not to worry. A scandalous opportunity would present itself when the time was right. She was certain of it.

“I must say, Jane, you look absolutely stunning this evening,” Daphne said as she pulled Jane along. The other guests were merely blurs passing by. “I almost didn't recognize you. I've never seen you so … so…”

“Blame it on Lucy,” Jane replied. “She allowed me to borrow the gown and the mask. There's perfume, too, but don't ask about that.”

“I had a feeling Lucy was involved,” Daphne replied, with a knowing tone.

“Lucy's always involved when there is trouble.”

Daphne stopped her. “Is there to be trouble?”

Jane sighed. “I cannot see a pace in front of me and I'm wearing an embarrassingly low-cut gown. I'm quite convinced trouble is imminent.” No need to admit to Daphne that she was looking for a scandal.

Daphne laughed and they resumed walking.

A tall blur approached them. “Lady Daphne,” a male voice said. “You look ravishing this evening. Who is your friend?”

Jane had heard the voice before but couldn't quite place it. Oh, perfect. She was going to make a complete cake of herself tonight if she didn't recognize anyone. Though, she supposed, that was the entire point of a masquerade, was it not? She took a deep breath. She might as well relax as best she could. Speaking of cake, she made a mental note to have Daphne point her in the direction of the teacake, later, as well.

“You're not supposed to know it's me, Lord Owen,” Daphne replied. “And I'm not about to reveal the identity of my beautiful friend.”

Ah, so it was Owen Monroe. Hmm. If she'd managed to fool the biggest rake in London, she just might be as ravishing as Daphne said she was.

Owen's laughter followed. “You're not supposed to know it's me, either, Lady Daphne,” he replied. “Very well, keep your secret.”

He bowed, a blur in front of Jane, and pulled her hand to his mouth. Good heavens. His actual lips brushed against the tender skin on the back of her hand. Even through her glove it was hot. She jumped a little.

“Until we meet again, my mysterious lady,” he said, before drifting back into the crowd.

Daphne giggled. “My goodness, Jane, you just caught the attention of Owen Monroe. He had no idea who you were. Why, the only other person I know who is a bigger rake than Owen Monroe is Captain Cavendish.”

“Daphne! How do you know words like ‘rake'?”

“I know much worse words than that, Jane Lowndes,” Daphne replied, giggling.

Jane had to smile. Daphne Swift was a spitfire. Cass and Lucy had told her so, but she hadn't quite seen it until now. Jane liked Daphne. She liked her a great deal.

“I daresay this evening is certain to be diverting, if you're fooling the likes of Owen Monroe,” Daphne added.