The Unlikely Lady (Playful Brides #3)(36)
CHAPTER TWENTY
“You must be jesting,” Jane said five minutes later as Lucy sat on the end of the bed in Jane’s guest chamber. “I cannot believe for a moment that Upton is in love with me.”
“I didn’t believe it either, at first,” Lucy said with a nonchalant shrug, “but Derek and Julian both told me the same thing. When Garrett was in his cups the other night, he admitted it to them.”
“Then he’s a loon when he’s in his cups,” Jane replied, shaking her head.
Jane’s voice was protesting, but her mind was preoccupied with examining this news. It couldn’t be true. Could it? Garrett? Garrett Upton? Rake, gambler, and general profligate, in love? With her? If Lucy had told her this news two days ago, Jane would have laughed her out of the room. But today. Today was the day after she’d nearly been ravished by Upton on the settee in the upstairs drawing room—and liked it. Today was the day she’d gone on a picnic and noticed Upton glancing at her every time she looked at him. Today everything had changed and Lucy’s story didn’t seem quite so far-fetched.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, Lucy, but wasn’t Upton madly in love with Cass until recently?”
Lucy twisted her lips. “Oh, ah … about that…”
Jane narrowed her eyes on her friend. “What?”
“It seems I was mistaken about that.” Lucy traced her fingernail along the pattern in the bedspread.
“Mistaken?”
“Yes.”
“Upton wasn’t in love with Cass?”
“No.”
“Ever?”
“Never.”
Jane crossed her arms over her chest. “How did you make such a mistake?”
Lucy raised both palms toward the ceiling and shrugged. “He was always there, you know, sitting next to her and being nice to her, and well, Cass is so pretty, and accomplished, and so … Cass. I just assumed…”
Jane pushed up her spectacles and nodded sagely. “That explains it. You’re only assuming now, aren’t you? Upton’s no more in love with me than he was with Cass.”
“No, this time I’m quite sure.” Lucy nodded firmly.
Jane narrowed her eyes. “Sure, how?”
“I told you, he admitted it to Derek and Julian.”
Jane searched her friend’s face, arms still resolutely crossed over her chest. “But did he tell you?”
Lucy didn’t meet her eyes. “Telling Derek is as good as telling me.”
Jane had to concede that point. She was skeptical, but even Lucy, egregiously behaved Lucy, wouldn’t lie about such a thing. She might hint at it. She might heavily imply, but coming right out and declaring that her husband had told her the exact words, that was too much even for the most outlandish of all of Lucy’s plots.
“Now that you’ve told me, Your Grace, what do you suppose I do with this information?”
Lucy leaned back on her palms. “Nothing, obviously. You’re a confirmed bluestocking spinster, after all. I just thought you should know. In case Garrett is perhaps”—she eyed Jane carefully—“acting differently toward you or something of that sort. Is he?”
“Is he what?” Jane’s words were a bit too rushed.
“Acting differently toward you.”
Jane let her hand slide over the copy of Montague’s Treatise on the History of Handwriting and Graphology that sat on her writing table. “No, not that I recall.” Oh, yes he was. But she’d die of embarrassment before she’d tell Lucy about it.
“Not a bit?” Lucy prodded.
“Not that I’ve noticed.” Liar.
“Very well, then. I suppose you should just go about your business as usual and pretend as if you don’t know. In the meantime, we should discuss our plan for Mrs. Bunbury’s introduction to your mother in a few days.”
Jane shook her head to clear it of the prior subject. In the wake of this news about Upton, her plan to fool her mother didn’t seem quite as pressing, but Lucy was correct. Jane’s mother would be appearing in a few days and they needed to have a solid plan in place. Jane’s first attempt at scandal had ended hideously. She was wary of a second attempt.
“I, er, I cannot think of a sufficient scandal,” Jane mumbled.
“We’ll need a secondary plan in the meantime. Here is what I propose.” Lucy stood and shook out her skirts. “Between the three of us, you, Cass, and myself, we shall endeavor to keep your mother guessing. ‘Why, Mrs. Bunbury was just here not five moments ago, didn’t you see her? No, she’s not here now, but I just saw her near the refreshment table a bit earlier.’ That sort of thing.”
It sounded insane. But then again, most of Lucy’s plots sounded insane. That was the beauty of them, but even Jane had to admit they usually worked.
“Very well, we’ll take turns,” Jane agreed.
She had come to Surrey a few days ago, convinced that her Mrs. Bunbury plot was the most complicated thing in her life. Now she wasn’t certain about that. Not certain at all.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Garrett scrubbed a hand through his hair. There was only one way to get to the bottom of this. He was going to bloody well ask Jane Lowndes himself. Was she or was she not in love with him? First, he would ask her to dance. The Morelands were having a dance tonight. A plain little dance. No dominoes, no hidden identities. It was quite simple.