The Unlikely Lady (Playful Brides #3)(55)

“She’s predictable, the poor dear,” Lucy replied with a sigh.

They made their way slowly around the room while Jane continued to test the strength of her ankle. They were nearly to the other side of the large space when she spotted a small group of people that unfortunately included Mrs. Langford.

The widow was wearing purple this evening. Jane snorted. Typical. She thought she was a queen.

Mrs. Langford’s head snapped up and she spotted Jane and Lucy.

“Miss Lowndes,” she called, leaving the group of gentlemen who were paying her homage and coming to stand near the two ladies. “May I have a word?”

“I suppose so,” Jane replied, wanting to be anywhere but in Mrs. Langford’s odious company. Reluctantly, Jane relinquished Lucy’s arm and painstakingly followed Mrs. Langford over to the wall where there was a bit of privacy.

The widow turned to face her. “I wanted to say one thing.”

Jane sighed. “Very well. Say it so that I may limp back over to my friend.”

Mrs. Langford’s eyes narrowed. “Fine. I’ll be blunt. I want Garrett Upton. And I intend to have him.”

Jane placed a steadying hand against the wall. She took a breath, concentrating to keep a blank look on her face. So there it was, the ultimate challenge, and stated in such a way that it sounded absurd. “What are you planning to do? Toss a sack over his head and abduct him?”

Mrs. Langford smirked. “Such a wit, Miss Lowndes, and such a child. I am a full-grown woman and, believe me, I know the way to bring a man to heel.”

Jane’s eyebrows shot up. “To heel? Like a dog, you mean?”

“If need be.” She tossed her head and barely shrugged one shoulder. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”

“Like tampering with a saddle and challenging someone to a race?”

The widow gasped and took a step back. “What are you implying?”

Jane eyed the woman. She had no intention of getting into an argument with Isabella in the middle of the ball at Cass’s wedding party, but she also refused to allow the widow to think she was fooling anyone. “Don’t count your victory quite yet, Mrs. Langford. I, too, have read Secrets of a Wedding Night.” Jane brushed past the widow and made her way back to Lucy. Admittedly, her departure would have had a superior impact if she hadn’t had to half limp, but an exit was an exit, was it not? The words were more important than the walking.

Lucy had managed to find Garrett, and they were standing together when Jane returned. She smiled at him brightly and he rushed to offer his arm. “How is your ankle?” he whispered in her ear, causing gooseflesh to pop up. Hopefully he’d got a good whiff of that magical perfume.

“Not perfect but much better,” she replied.

To Jane’s chagrin, Mrs. Langford sauntered up and joined their group. The woman’s strident voice rang out behind them. “Your Grace, it’s lovely to see you again.”

Lucy rolled her eyes but turned to greet the widow. “Mrs. Langford.” She inclined her head.

They turned to face one another in a small circle. Jane kept her arm firmly wrapped around Garrett’s.

Mrs. Langford touched her elegant fingers to the strand of pearls at her neck. “It’s really too bad you cannot dance this evening, Miss Lowndes. I do hope your ankle heals eventually.”

“I’m sure you do, Mrs. Langford,” Jane replied, a false smile on her face.

“I myself would love to dance.” Mrs. Langford eyed Garrett expectantly.

Jane’s grip on his arm tightened. For one awful moment she thought he would be obliged to offer.

“I’d be honored if you’d dance with me, Mrs. Langford.” Owen Monroe was there. Jane couldn’t stop her sigh of relief. The man had a knack for materializing at the precise moment he was needed. A helpful chap indeed.

Mrs. Langford gave Owen a tight smile, but she had no choice but to accept. She took his arm and allowed Owen to lead her to the floor.

“I’m off to find my handsome husband.” Lucy gave Jane and Garrett a small wave as she trotted off.

“I’m sorry you cannot dance,” Garrett said as soon as they were alone.

“I’m not.”

He raised a brow. “You’re not?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

She leaned up to get closer to his ear so only he could hear. “Because I’d much rather … go look at the paintings in the upstairs drawing room.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, but otherwise, his face remained a mask. “I see. And would you allow me to accompany you on such a mission?”

“I was counting upon it.”

He made to offer his arm, but Jane shook her head. “We shouldn’t be seen leaving together,” she whispered. “I’ll meet you there in ten”—she studied her ankle—“no, fifteen minutes.”

*

The journey to the upstairs drawing room took Jane longer than fifteen minutes. First, she had to wait for her chance to leave the ballroom without anyone noticing, a particularly difficult task given that everyone kept coming to inquire after the health of her foot. By the time she actually made her way from the room, she was still favoring her ankle more than she’d realized. She hobbled out of the ballroom, down the corridor, and up the stairs.