The Unlikely Lady (Playful Brides #3)(84)

“Why don’t you just find some other rich man to marry?”

“So easy is it? Is that why you’ve been unsuccessful in the marriage mart?”

Jane clutched her reticule so tightly her knuckles turned white. “I haven’t been attempting to marry.”

“So you say. It’s not as easy as it seems, I assure you. With Garrett, I have the upper hand.”

Jane narrowed her eyes on the widow. “The upper hand?”

“Guilt, Miss Lowndes. It’s extremely useful.”

Jane counted three. She desperately wanted to slap Medusa but that would hardly be helpful. “You mean Garrett’s guilt over Harold’s death?”

“Of course.”

Jane loosened the strings on her reticule. “I know you forged the letter from Harold to Garrett and I can prove it.”

If the widow was surprised, her face didn’t register it. She looked bored instead. “Really? How can you prove it?”

Jane pulled the letter from the purse. “I compared the letter with your handwriting.”

Isabella sneered. “Is that what you were doing in Garrett’s study yesterday? Sneaking around stealing letters?”

“Garrett deserves to know the truth.”

“Even if you were right, Miss Lowndes, what do you want me to do about it?”

“I want you to admit it.”

“Fine, I admit it. Who cares?”

“I care. Garrett cares. I intend to show Garrett the letters and tell him you confessed. He’ll never marry you.”

A slow smirk spread across the widow’s face. “What if I told you he already knows?”

Jane sucked in her breath. “No he doesn’t.”

“Yes he does. But he’ll still marry me. I’m certain of it. I have one final card to play. He’s beautiful, my future husband. I’ll give him that. Beautiful, but stupid.”

“How dare you! You don’t even know him. Garrett’s far from stupid.”

The widow tapped a tapered fingernail against her chin. “I used to think so too, but now … I’m not so certain.”

“He already knows you tampered with my saddle the day of the race. He knows you had your footman lock him in the wine cellar.”

“Yes, and he knows the letter is a fake. At least he suspects it. But he’ll marry me nevertheless. That’s how na?ve you are, Miss Lowndes. You actually think the truth matters. Besides, what do you care? I thought you believed him to be a reprobate.”

“He’s not a reprobate. He’s intelligent and funny and opinionated. He loves to attend the theater and he’s wonderful with his dogs. He’s kind to servants and he’s good to his mother. He gave me a first edition Mary Wollstonecraft, and he’s allowed your husband’s death to make him sick with guilt all these years. He’s a strong, good, noble man. You don’t deserve him, Isabella.”

Another sharp bark of laughter from Isabella. “You do?”

“No. I don’t deserve him either, but at least I’ll spend every day of my life trying.”

Isabella’s lip curled. “People who fancy themselves in love make me ill.”

“Stay away from him.” Jane’s voice simmered.

Isabella rolled her eyes. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” She rang for her butler. “Garrett Upton is going to be my husband and I insist that you stay away from him.”

Jane raised her chin and glowered at Isabella. “Whatever your so-called one final card is, I wish you well, Mrs. Langford, because you’re going to have to fight me for him, and I never lose.”





CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

Garrett strode into the church. With each step, anger and bile rose in his throat. He was through playing Isabella’s games. He’d received a letter from her this morning with a vague threat, demanding he meet her at St. George’s at ten o’clock. He was here, but only to tell her once and for all that if she didn’t leave him alone, he would have her arrested for every vile thing she’d done.

Isabella Langford was beyond evil. How had Harold, the good man that he was, stood being married to her?

Garrett squinted. The church was dim … and empty. Isabella hadn’t yet arrived. He’d tried to see Jane last night but her mother had informed him that she was with Lucy. A visit to Lucy’s house had revealed that the two women were not at home. No matter. Garrett intended to go straight to Lucy’s house this morning after he finished this odious task. He would beg Jane to marry him. No, he would demand it. No, he would ask. She had to say yes, didn’t she? She loved him as much as he loved her. He was certain of it.

The door at the side of the altar opened and a bride dressed in white, a veil covering her face, came walking out. The vicar came out, too, dressed in grand vestments. He made his way to the center of the altar.

Garrett sucked in his breath. Isabella had gone too far this time. If she thought he would marry her merely because she’d lured him to a church and arrived wearing a wedding gown, she was sorely mistaken.

Garrett made his way up to the altar. He took a deep breath and glanced at Isabella. He couldn’t see her evil face through her veil. “Reverend, you don’t understand. I can’t—”

“Would you please uncover your bride’s face?” the vicar asked.