The Unlikely Lady (Playful Brides #3)(52)

Though, admittedly, Jane had little time to think about Garrett. Well, less time than usual. She was busy bustling around—as best she could on her tender ankle—in an attempt to keep her mother from meeting Mrs. Bunbury.

Jane hobbled a few doors down to her mother’s room to greet her.

“Your father’s in the study with the other gentlemen,” her mother announced. “What is it about gentlemen and studies?” She shook her head.

“It’s lovely to see you, Mama.” Jane kissed her on the cheek.

“How is your leg, dear?” her mother asked, watching her slow progression across the room. “I nearly had an apoplexy when Lady Cassandra’s footman came to fetch your spectacles.”

“It was just a small tumble from a horse. My pride was hurt much more than my ankle.”

A worry line creased her mother’s brow. “Oh, Jane, please don’t tell me you were racing gentlemen on horseback. That’s hardly the behavior one looks for in a wife and—”

It was typical of her mother to be more worried about her daughter’s reputation than her health. “No, Mama. I was racing another lady on horseback. I would have won, too, if the saddle hadn’t given way.”

Her mother put her hands on her hips and clucked her tongue. “Where was Mrs. Bunbury when this was going on?”

Jane nearly winced. “Mrs. Bunbury was there. She approved. It was all in good fun.”

“I’d like to meet Mrs. Bunbury at the first opportunity.”

“And so you shall,” Jane replied. “She’s, uh, gone off to the village just now, to fetch some supplies for the poultice she’s been using on my ankle. Lucy swears by it.” Must remember to ask Lucy to make me a poultice.

Her mother wrinkled up her nose. “The Morelands don’t have the necessary ingredients for a poultice?”

“Er, not this poultice. I believe it requires eye of newt or something like that.”

Jane’s mother shook her head again. “There you go again with that wild imagination. Gentlemen are rarely interested in ladies who are humorous.”

“That’s a shame,” Jane mumbled under her breath.

“What was that, dear?”

“Come downstairs with me, Mama. I’ll lean on you so I may greet Papa. Perhaps I can coax him out of the study.”

“We should get you a cane,” her mother replied.

“No, thank you. I’m not old enough for a cane, and I refuse to succumb to such accoutrements before it’s time.”

Jane’s mother rolled her eyes. Hmm. Perhaps that’s where she got it. The thought made Jane smile. But thankfully, Hortense agreed without any more questions about the poultice, the cane, or Mrs. Bunbury, and the two made their way downstairs.

As they slowly progressed along the corridor, Jane relaxed a bit. Goodness. This concentrating on her mother and the Mrs. Bunbury plot bit was good for her. She hadn’t thought about Upton in entire minutes.

*

Garrett had spent most of the afternoon greeting various acquaintances as they arrived. In addition to Garrett’s mother, Rafferty Cavendish, one of the top spies for the War Office, was greeted by Cassandra and Julian as if he were their brother. Rafe had been with Donald Swift when he’d died. The younger man had taken it hard. He blamed himself, but everyone knew he couldn’t have saved Donald. The fact that Rafe was still alive was a miracle in itself.

Jane’s mother and father had arrived too. Sir Charles was a known academic. Apparently he’d passed his keen abilities to his only child. Jane’s mother seemed less cerebral, but she was certainly a good-looking lady and was pleasant enough. Garrett wondered at the type of woman who would make a little girl feel bad for being overweight. Sometimes parents were cruel.

Garrett was greatly looking forward to the dance that evening. He never looked forward to dances. It was fine to see friends and have a good time, but there was something else about tonight. Something different, special. If he were honest, he would admit he was looking forward to seeing Jane again. He’d left her bedchamber abruptly earlier, which was probably for the best. He shouldn’t have been in there in the first place, but he hadn’t been able to help himself. When she mentioned Harold, the memories had been too much for him. The walls had seemed to be closing in around him. What could he say? The man had died in front of him. Died for him. That wasn’t something Garrett wanted to revisit during waking hours. He did it often enough in his dreams.

Jane had sent him a note this afternoon. She wanted to be there for the pleasantries, she’d written.

Learning about her and her childhood had been enlightening. Now he had a glimpse into why Jane had such a tough exterior. Her childhood might have been privileged, but it had also been sad. No wonder she and Lucy had become fast friends. They were quite alike, both rejected by the Society they’d been told they must be a part of.

But tonight was for celebrating Cass and Julian’s wedding. Even if Jane couldn’t dance with him, he’d bring her a teacake or three. He’d coax another smile out of her and perhaps a blush. Garrett whistled as he strolled down the corridor.

“Mr. Upton.”

He stopped short at the sound of Isabella’s voice. He turned to see her standing behind him.

“Yes.” He moved toward her slowly, dread tugging at his gut.