The Unlikely Lady (Playful Brides #3)(2)

“But don’t worry,” Jane said. “I’ve asked Anna, the cook’s assistant, to check on you while I’m gone. She’s promised to bring you all the best scraps and—”

“Miss Jane?” Anna’s voice came floating through the rain and fog.

Jane quickly stood and turned toward the sound. “Anna, is that you?”

Anna soon materialized around the side of the mews. She held a newspaper over her head to shield herself from the rain as she squinted through the fog. “Miss Jane?” She stopped when she saw Jane. “There you are. I thought I might find you out here. Your mother is looking for you. She and Eloise are turning up the house searching.”

Eloise was Jane’s lady’s maid. The poor woman was often taken to task if Jane’s mother couldn’t find her only child. “I’d better get back quickly then. Poor Eloise. Good-bye, Mrs. Cat. I’ll see you when I return. And I hope to see your kittens fat and healthy. Anna will take good care of you. Won’t you, Anna?”

Anna’s smile spread across her plump cheeks. “Of course, miss.”

The cat lifted its head and blinked.

Anna readjusted the paper atop her head. “Miss, I heard your mother tell Eloise it’s quite important that she and your father speak with you before you leave for the house party.”

Jane scrunched up her nose. Drat. An audience with her mother was never a good thing and if she was dragging Papa into it, it was serious. “I wonder what she wishes to discuss.”

Anna stooped down and patted the cat on the head. “I heard her say something about Mrs. Bunbury.”

Jane gulped. “Mrs. Bunbury?”

“Yes. She is your new chaperone, isn’t she, miss?”

Jane blinked rapidly. “Yes. Yes, she is.” Jane, the book still cradled under her arm, broke into a decidedly unladylike sprint back toward the house, heedless of the water splashing onto her skirts from the many puddles in the courtyard.

Mrs. Bunbury was indeed her new chaperone. The chaperone who would be accompanying her to Cass’s wedding house party in Surrey. If her mother wanted to discuss Mrs. Bunbury, there might well be trouble.

For Mrs. Bunbury didn’t exist.





CHAPTER TWO

Garrett Upton turned over the letter and stared at it. Hard. He let out a long breath. It contained what it always did, a bank draft, an inadequate message, a hefty dose of guilt.

“Sir, the coach awaits you.”

Garrett glanced at the butler who stood at attention in the doorway to his study. The two roan spaniels lying on either side of his chair lifted their heads and wagged their tails.

“I’ll be there in a moment, Cartwright.”

Cartwright nodded once.

Garrett’s gaze returned to the desktop and the letter that had occupied his attention this morning. He finished sanding it, sealed it, and stamped it with the heated wax in front of him.

Garrett didn’t have much time. The coach was waiting. He hadn’t got much slept last night either, but that was nothing new. The dreams were always there, the nightmares, haunting him.

Garrett stared at the address.

Mrs. Harold Langford





12 Charles Street


London


Every two weeks Garrett sent a similar letter. He’d sent it like clockwork, ever since he’d been a young man of one and twenty, nearly ten years now. While it always included the same contents, conspicuously, there was no mention of Harold, his friend who had died in the war.

Garrett shook his head and pushed out his chair. The dogs scrambled up from their resting spots. He stood and made his way toward the door, the letter in his hand. He’d worked the last fortnight to catch up with his business matters to ensure he could enjoy the time in the countryside. Today, he was off to his friends’ wedding house party in Surrey. The new Earl of Swifdon, Julian Swift, was finally marrying his bride, Lady Cassandra Monroe. The six months of grieving for the earl’s older brother, Donald, had passed.

The wedding would be grand. The house party before the wedding, more intimate. Garrett’s cousin Lucy would be there with her new husband, the Duke of Claringdon. Cassandra and Swifdon would be there, of course. Miss Jane Lowndes. Garrett rolled his eyes. Miss Lowndes usually exasperated him, argued with him, maddened him, or a combination of all three, but he could stand her company for a sennight, he supposed. Why Lucy insisted on remaining such close friends with that know-it-all bluestocking, he’d never understand.

Cartwright remained standing at attention near the door.

“Ensure this goes out today,” Garrett said pointedly to the servant, handing him the letter.

“As you wish,” the butler replied, taking it.

Garrett crossed back over to the large mahogany desk, pulled his coat from the back of his chair, and shrugged into it. The dogs watched him intently. Then he turned and strode out the door. The dogs followed close on his heels. He made his way past the butler, who fell into step behind him. He marched down the corridor and into the foyer. Cartwright scurried to open the front door for him as Garrett turned to pat each of the dogs on the head. Their tails wiggled vigorously.

“Take good care of them, Cartwright.”

Placing his hat on his head, Garrett strode out into the street, where he climbed into the waiting carriage. He settled into the velvet seat and gazed out the window, taking one last look at his London residence.