Everything he had planned had gone horribly, terribly wrong and he was beginning to think that what he thought he had wanted at the start of this charade was exactly the opposite of what he wanted now.
CHAPTER SEVEN
"We shall have to begin preparing your trousseau," Emily said, the moment that the two women arrived back at their Berkely Square home. "Then I shall have to make an appointment for you with Madam Le Chat, she's the only modiste I will allow you to attend. She can work miracles; even with you."
Jane ignored Emily's underhand barb and simply took off her pelisse and handed it to Austin the butler who was waiting patiently on the two ladies.
"Miss Deveraux you had two male callers when you were out," he said kindly as he took the light garment from her, "Both were most eager to let you know they had called. They left their cards, shall I fetch them for you?"
"Thank you Austin," Jane said with a smile, "But I am perfectly capable of walking the three steps to fetch them myself. You would have me a lazy sloth if you had your way."
"Oh, indeed, I hate to see you over extend yourself."
Jane suppressed an irritated sigh at this comment; Austin was a dear but he could be rather overbearing at times. She lifted the lid of the silver card holder and picked out the top two cards from the pile. The first was Lord Payne's, which she was expecting for he had told her that he had called whilst she was out. The name on the second card caused her to emit a gasp of shock, which had Emily watching her with narrowed, suspicious eyes.
"Who called?" her sister in law asked casually, removing her own shawl and shoving it at Austin without even glancing at him.
"Oh, just a most esteemed member of the Historical Society," Jane lied, knowing that it would halt Emily's interest.
"Oh, how dull," Emily replied, her eyes near glazed over with boredom. "I will take a small rest Jane, then we can spend the evening preparing and making plans. You will need a dozen new dresses for the season, for you cannot be seen in Lord Payne's company looking as dowdy as you do now."
With a swish of her skirts the young Viscountess made her way toward the staircase, calling for her lady's maid as she went. Jane watched her, until she was certain that she was gone, then glanced at the card again.
Alastair had called.
A tidal wave of emotions swept over her, excitement, happiness...anger. For she and Alastair had exchanged harsh words the last time that they had spoken and he had broken her heart; the heart that had beat for him for almost a decade.
"Could you please have one of the maids send some tea to my parlour?" Jane asked Austin absently. She made her way down the corridor which led toward the kitchens, where the small corner of the house that she could truly call her own was situated. Belinda was seated by the fireplace, with Henry warming her feet, a book in hand.
"You're back," she said sweetly, though her face fell when she caught sight of Jane's harried expression.
"Oh, dear," Belinda rose to her feet, dislodging Henry who gave a sigh of protest, and gestured for Jane to sit down. "Whatever is the matter? Are you upset because of the man who sent the flowers?"
"What flowers?" Jane asked quizzically.
"Those ones," Belinda waved her arm toward the window, which was nearly obscured by the huge bouquet of red-roses and gypsophelia. It was the most spectacular bunch of flowers that Jane had ever received—actually it was the only bunch of flowers that Jane had received in her eight and twenty years.
"Do you know who sent them?" Jane asked, moving toward the window so that she could truly appreciate their splendour. The gypsophelia puffed around the roses like little clouds of baby's breath and when Jane reached out a hand to stroke one of the rose petals, she noticed a card nestled within.
"There's a card," she whispered to Belinda, who gave her an encouraging smile. With shaking hands Jane opened the envelope and gave a sigh when she read the short missive. It simply said: Forgive me Jane, I have been a fool.
"What does it say?" Belinda asked, "Does it say who sent them?"
"No," Jane read the words again, "Though I know who they are from."
Alastair: he had come back into her life and was begging for forgiveness.
"Lord Payne?" Belinda asked, her eyes alight with softness at the romance of it all. Jane felt her stomach drop at the mention of his name. How could she explain to Lord Payne that the true love of her life had returned and that she could no longer carry on with this charade of an engagement? How would she explain it to his mother, for that matter? The Duchess had been like an army general, summoning the cook to prepare menus for the wedding breakfast, the housekeeper to ensure that the ballroom would be adequate for the number of people she wished to invite and finally ordering James to visit his barrister so the marriage contract could be drawn up and signed by the day's end.
"They're not from Lord Payne, Belinda," Jane said slowly, tucking the card into the pocket of her skirts.
"Do you have another paramour?" Belinda asked, her voice breathless with excitement. To Jane's surprise she gave a twirl, before exclaiming, "Oh, this is so exciting! Perhaps Lord Payne will challenge him to a duel at dawn for your heart?"
Goodness; Jane made a mental note to check the titles of the books that Belinda was forever reading. It appeared that sugary-sweet romances had rotted the poor girl's brain.
"No one will be duelling over me," Jane assured the girl, breaking off as Hattie bustled into the room with a tray of tea and sweetmeats.
"Beautiful flowers," she commented in her cockney accent as she set the tray on the low table before the fire, "I heard you've two men chasing after you now Miss. Isn't that a fine thing. I always say men are like Hackney carriages, you can wait forever for one and then two come along all at once."
To Jane's surprise the maid gave her a rather saucy wink, before bustling back out the door, humming a cheerful tune. Good gracious, had every member of the household become afflicted with some sort of infectious disease that had stripped them of their sense of reason? What woman would want two men duelling over her? It sounded like a most exhausting predicament to be in.
Once the door was closed behind the maid, Belinda turned and looked at her curiously.
"Who is the man who sent them, Jane?" she asked quietly, "For it seems to have upset you a great deal."
For a girl who spent most of her days with her head in the clouds, young Miss Bowstock could sometimes be incredibly astute at reading people.
"He was a man I loved for years," Jane sighed, walking to the table and pouring them both a strong cup of tea. She added a lump of sugar to her own cup for good measure; strong, sweet tea was what one needed for shock, or so Hattie always said. "He is a very intelligent man, heavily involved in the world of academics. We corresponded on various ideas for years and our friendship was the highlight of my rather dreary life until last summer..."
"Until?" Belinda prompted, for Jane had trailed off and was staring morosely at the flowers.
"Until last summer he declared that he would be leaving on an expedition for the South Americas which would take five years," Jane volunteered, "He asked me to wait for him, but I refused as I knew that to promise myself to him meant that any chance I would ever have to have children, or a family of my own would vanish."
"Quite a sensible choice," Belinda, who had possibly never made a sensible choice in her life, nodded wisely.
"Oh it was more pride on my part," Jane shrugged, giving her companion a wan smile. "I was hurt that he would favour exotic insects over me; I should have realised that a man of his passions would never be satisfied until he knew everything there was to know about his field of study."
"Which is insects?" Belinda wrinkled her nose and fed the biscuit that she had been about to eat to Henry instead. "I have never heard the words passion and insects used in the same sentence...but what do I know?"
"Alastair is an entomologist," Jane replied defensively, slightly hurt on Alastair's behalf that his chosen profession was being mo
cked. "He is meticulous in his study and documentation of all classes of the insect kingdom. Why he has devised his own method of classification that has been adopted by all members of the Entomological Society of Great Britain."
Jane paused to allow Belinda to absorb this monumental achievement, though, after a moment of bewildered silence on her companion's part, Jane had to assume that nomenclature was not a feat that impressed Miss Bowstock.
"He sounds like a most admirable man," Belinda offered dubiously, her pretty face wearing an expression which belied her words. Jane stifled a sigh; she knew that compared to Lord Payne Alastair sounded like a dull, stick in the mud. Unlike Lord Payne however, Alastair had once felt actual feelings for her. It was hard to defend him to Belinda when doing so would reveal that her engagement to the future Duke of Hawkfield was all a charade and that Payne probably felt more affectionately toward his horse than he did to Jane. She glanced at Belinda, whose face was troubled as she pondered the predicament that Jane was in.
"I know you might think me flippant, for wanting to throw Lord Payne over in favour of Alastair," she whispered.
"I don't," Belinda protested, "It's just not like you to be so inconsiderate of someone's feelings."
Ah, so that was the crux of Belinda's issue.
"It's not like me," Jane agreed, and, deciding that she could take her companion in her confidence, she leaned forward and whispered; "It's just that Lord Payne and I are not actually engaged, you see. He asked me to pretend to be his betrothed so that his father would not disinherit him."
"Never," Belinda's eyes lit up at the scandal of it all, "Why that's quite clever."
"It was, until Alastair resurfaced and complicated it all."
Jane heaved a deep sigh at the predicament that she now found herself in; really she had lived a very simple life before James Fairweather upended it all with his silly plans.
"It doesn't have to make it complicated," Belinda suggested, thoughtfully scratching Henry's ears and feeding him another biscuit. "Presumably your plan with Lord Payne would have culminated with one of you calling the whole thing off?"
"Yes," Jane agreed, "Though we hadn't quite decided who. I think it would have been more believable for him to have caught a case of cold-feet, than I, for he is such a catch and no one would think that I would be fool enough to let such a man go. Though he was insistent that honour would not allow him to break the engagement and that I was to do the deed."
"So it is you who will break the engagement?"
"Yes, and I worry that it will cause a lot of upset to James' family, who are really quite lovely. I wouldn't want his sister to think that I am a cold-hearted witch."
"Well then," Belinda shrugged, "You have the perfect excuse - your childhood sweetheart has returned and is whisking you away to get married. It's rather romantic, she couldn't hold it against you." The blonde girl beamed at Jane who struggled to form a smile of her own to return; in ten years Alastair had never once proposed marriage, and she needed him to do it within the next three weeks for that plan to work.
"Are you over the moon that he has returned?" Belinda asked dreamily; seemingly happy to hop from one Romantic hero to another, now that it wasn't at the expense of Lord Payne's feelings. Jane thought for a moment, before nodding as a reply. She was happy that Alastair had returned, that he had apologised and that he wished to reenter her life, but she wanted the feeling that was gnawing at her stomach to disappear. The feeling of guilt— that she knew would only go once she shared her news with Lord Payne.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Normally James thoroughly enjoyed every ball he attended, for what was there not to like at a ball? The food, the music, the dancing; everything was designed for pleasure. Not to mention the chance to flirt with the fresh debutantes or, even better, any dashing widows who had always appealed to him more than the green girls who collapsed into floods of giggles at the mere sight of him.
Tonight, however, he was filled with a restless impatience as he prowled the periphery of the dance floor of Lord and Lady Thackeray's opulent ballroom. The place was thronged with guests, it was setting up to be a crush, yet despite all the people there, there was one person who was conspicuous in her absence.
Jane Deveraux.
James scanned the couples on the floor, who were engaged in a boisterous quadrille, but she was not there. He heaved a sigh, thinking to fetch himself a glass of ratafia, or something stronger if it could be found, when a familiar figure caught his eye.
"Lord Payne," the new Lady Jarvis gave a wide, cat like smile as she spotted him. She was resplendent in an off the shoulder gown of pale rose, which complimented her blonde curls and exquisite figure perfectly. She was flanked on either side by two young ladies that James did not recognise; both were extremely beautiful, in that fragile, doll-like way that had become so popular of late. They glanced at him from under long lashes, with eyes that were alarmingly calculating for such young ladies.
"Allow me to introduce Misses Gemma and Audrey Blaise," Lady Jarvis said with a smile that showed her pearly white teeth. "We were actually just discussing your forthcoming nuptials, my Lord."
"You and every other person here," James gave a modest smile. He had spent the whole of the night thus far batting off enquiries as to the big day—mostly from members of White's, who he was sure had opened a betting book— and from Society Mamas who seemed most cross with him for having taken himself out of the marriage market.
"Such an unusual pair you make," Gemma Blaise said slyly, with half-feigned innocence that was intended to let Payne know that her comment was meant as a barb.
"In what way?" James felt himself bristle with annoyance, for the impertinent young madam wasn't the first person to say that to him this evening. Honestly, for a society that was obsessed with manners and etiquette, people could be incredibly rude about women who wore spectacles.
"It's just that you and Miss Deveraux are such opposites," Audrey interjected, earning a nod of agreement from the Viscountess. "You are so outgoing and charming, whilst Miss Deveraux is so...studious."
Never had the word studious been inflicted with such negative connotations, James thought with chagrin. Lady Jarvis then spoke, before he had a chance to respond.
"Indeed," she simpered, smiling up at him, a smile that did not reach her eyes. "Even Julian has commented on what odd a match it is. He always thought that you would choose a bride who was more sociable. The Misses Blaise are quite accomplished at dancing, singing and all the more feminine arts. Julian says that if he hadn't chosen me he would have fallen in love with one of them."
Julian stared at Lady Jarvis in dumbfounded shock; had she honestly just suggested that her two friends were a more suitable match than her sister in law?
"Frankly, I've never been attracted to the same type of women as Julian," he responded in as casual a tone as he could muster. "It's a matter of taste. Excuse me ladies."
With an extravagant bow he left the trio of ladies and went in search of the ratafia that he had been looking for before he was so rudely accosted. He hoped that someone had thought to add something stronger to it by the time he got a glass. The ball was in full swing as he pushed his way through the glittering, glamorous crowds. The Thackeray's were the beating heart at the centre of the ton and every guest present was either well titled, well connected or both. In the room adjoining the ballroom, where a small finger buffet had been set out, James spotted Ruan Ashford, Duke of Everleigh skulking in the shadows sipping on a tumbler of what looked like brandy.
"I'd give my left eye to know where you got that," James grumbled, to which Everleigh gave a wry smile.
"No need to go to such great lengths, Payne," Everleigh said, giving an almost imperceptible nod to a foot man, who returned seconds later with a fresh glass for His Grace and another for James.
"How do you do it?" James asked, slightly awestruck.
"It just happens, once you assume the title," Everleigh said with a shrug, "You'll find out
once you're Hawkfield, servants will be watching your every twitch to see if they're needed."
"Sounds delightful," James snorted, "What happens when you sneeze?"
"The whole of London town stops to offer me a handkerchief," Everleigh replied, "Well not really, but sometimes it feels like it. Sometimes holding a Ducal seat feels like being an exhibit at the Pantheon Bazaar, you'll learn that hiding in the shadows is sometimes more preferable when you inherit."
James took a swig of brandy, savouring the way it warmed his throat, and contemplated this advice. He already felt like the world watched his every move as the heir to Hawkfield. He couldn't possibly imagine the interest and curiosity getting any worse.
"You made a sound choice, in Miss Deveraux," Everleigh continued, his eyes on the guests in the room beyond. "You couldn't find a better woman to help you cope with the endless duties that accompany the title."
James followed the Duke's gaze to where Jane stood beside Olive, Duchess of Everleigh, deep in conversation and oblivious to the guests who were milling around them, trying to bask in the pair's reflected glory. His heart gave a strange leap at the sight of her; she was dressed differently tonight. Her hair was piled atop her head in a charming disarray of curls and her dress, while not as ostentatious as the other ladies present, clung to her curves in an understated way that left him rather dry-mouthed. Since when had Jane Deveraux possessed an hour glass figure that would make a tavern wench envious? James watched as his betrothed threw her head back in laughter at something the Duchess had said and he felt a stab of envy toward Olive; he wanted to be the one to make Jane laugh like that. The thought hit him like a runaway carriage— was it possible that he was interested in Jane romantically? It would make sense; the jealousy he had felt at seeing her with Dalton, the address of that Jackson chap that was seared into his brain, the protective way he felt toward her. He had said to his father that he had wanted to take Jane away from her miserable life with her brother, and he realised that it was true. He wanted Jane Deveraux as his wife, not his fake fiance.
The Lord of Heartbreak Page 6