The Accidental Countess (Accidental #2)(35)

Jane pressed her lips together and blinked at him. She had heard of people playing cards and keeping their faces completely blank in an effort to keep their opponent from guessing at their hand. She had tried it with Lady Hoppington upon occasion during one of that matron’s infamous rounds of whist. But she’d never been quite certain if it had worked. At the moment, however, Jane so hoped she was doing an admirable job of keeping her hand secret.

“Finally,” Upton continued. “You have arrived upon my doorstep. And seeing as how you’d rather be boiled in oil like one of the martyrs than voluntarily seek out my company, I can only assume you have been sent by Lucy to ensure my compliance with your charade or to ask that I stay away.” He flashed a grin at her. “Am I right?”

Jane had whisked off her gloves to contemplate her fingernails. “Oh, are you finished? I’d stopped paying attention quite a while ago.” She smiled at him tightly.

“I’m finished. Now, answer my question.”

Confound it. Upton was too wise by half. The man knew exactly what they were up to. He’d been Lucy’s cousin and close friend her entire life; no doubt nothing she did surprised him. Blast Cass for sending her on this doomed mission.

Jane took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “It is true that Lucy is hosting a house party at Upbridge Hall and that Berkeley has been invited.”

Upton paced around her, making her bristle. He was too close. She could smell his cologne and it smelled … not unpleasant.

“What I cannot figure out,” he said, “is why you’re doing it. Why would you say Cass is someone named Patience Bunbury and Lucy is Lady Worthing?”

Jane turned and stared him straight in the eye. “You got one thing wrong, Upton. I am also pretending to be someone I’m not. Miss Wollstonecraft.” She ignored his deeply sarcastic look. “As for why we are doing it … it’s for fun. You know all about fun, Upton, don’t you? Or isn’t being a drunken rake much fun these days?”

He arched a brow at her. “I’ll ignore that.”

“Please don’t.”

“No matter. I intend to find out exactly what you’re all up to when I arrive at the house party tonight.”

Jane struggled to keep her face blank. She closed one eye and pressed a fingertip to her eyebrow. “I beg your pardon?”

“I said I intend to come over and see for myself.”

“You’re not invited.” Hmm. Perhaps not particularly brilliant, but they were the first words that came to mind.

He gave her another long-suffering look. “Aren’t I?”

“No.”

“Given the fact that Upbridge Hall is my inheritance, I have a feeling the servants may well let me in the front door.”

“You cannot come.” Oops, her voice had gone a bit too high there. Unfortunate, that.

He paused and leaned over the back of the settee. He was far too close to breathing down her neck. And his breath was giving her … oh, holy … gooseflesh.

“Give me one good reason,” he breathed.

Jane scrambled for an answer. Why indeed could the man not come to his own cousin’s party being hosted in a home he would one day own? She decided it best to switch tactics. She stood and paced away from him, desperately needing to put space between them. She had to restore her equilibrium. When she’d gone a safe enough distance, she turned to face him and narrowed her eyes on him. “Why do you want to come?”

Garrett straightened and resumed his pacing. “To see what you’re up to, of course, and to hopefully stop it before it gets too far out of hand.”

Too late. Jane took a deep breath. Oh, this was going to get ugly. Quite ugly, indeed. There was no help for it. Desperate times … “Very well, Upton. What do you want to stay away? Name your price.”





CHAPTER SIXTEEN


The next morning, Cass took her watercolors and palette down to the conservatory. She hadn’t painted in an age. The activity always relaxed her. It was the only thing she did for propriety’s sake that she truly enjoyed. She adored staring at objects, considering their lines, making them come to life on a canvas using only a brush. It soothed her, made her forget her troubles. And that’s exactly what she intended, to forget everything she’d heard last night from Julian, specifically his confession that he intended to end things with Pen.

She glanced about at the lovely scene in front of her. Flowers were her particular favorite things to paint. Well, flowers and birds. But birds tended to have a pesky habit of flying away, and Lady Hoppington’s half-addled parrot had said one too many inappropriate things to her. Some of them in French.

Today, Cass had chosen an orchid as her subject. The soft scent of the flower floated through the slightly humid air in the room. She’d taken a seat on a little iron bench several paces away from the plant and was happily engaged in re-creating its delicate purple petals when Julian found her.

“There you are, Miss Bunbury.”

Cass nearly dropped her paintbrush. She grappled with it, caught it, and set it down on the small table she’d asked the footmen to set up next to her. She hastily smoothed her hands over her hair, hoping she didn’t get any paint streaks through it. So much for forgetting her troubles.

“Good … good morning, Captain Swift.”