Did she really? She couldn’t possibly. Could she?
“Of course you do. So what’s the problem?” Sophie took a seat facing Jane in the high-backed chair before the vanity.
“He doesn’t love me.” Oh good Lord, were these words really coming from her mouth? “He doesn’t love me now, and I don’t think he will ever be capable of it. Sophie...he’s only doing this because of Lord Utley. And he already married a woman he never loved before. I can’t allow him to do that again. I will not subject myself to a lifetime married to a man who wants anything other than to be married to me.”
Sophie slid back into place beside her and pulled her into a hug, carefully wiping the tears away from Jane’s eyes. Double drat, now she was crying—and all because of him. She wanted to plant him a facer now because of it. If only he was sitting there where she could reach him, she would.
“All right. Enough of this crying. Tears won’t solve your problem, will they?”
She was beginning to think that nothing could solve her problem. Still, Jane straightened herself and dried her eyes.
“I suppose we’ll just have to sneak you out of the house again, then, won’t we?” Sophie asked. “You finalized your plans earlier with Mr. Selwood, didn’t you?”
“Yes. The building is ready for me to use.”
“I think it’s time we set up your shop, then. You did say earlier that there’s an apartment above stairs, didn’t you? Somewhere you could sleep?”
Jane nodded.
“Excellent. Then we’ll just wait until Peter leaves for Doctor’s Commons in the morning and move you in to your new shop.”
Her new shop. She was going to be a business owner—independent. She hoped.
“Do you think anyone will come to me after this? I mean, if I jilt your brother?”
Sophie laughed, a deep, musical sound. “Why, Jane, you’ll be the talk of the ton tomorrow. You’ll have a larger customer base in a few days’ time than you could serve in a month.”
She hoped her friend was right. If her modiste shop failed, Jane would have no option of staying in London. Not after breaking her betrothal to Peter, at least. She would have to return to her parents, and Mother would be terribly disappointed in her, to say the least.
“You’re still planning to help me, then, even if I hurt your brother in this way?”
Sophie took her hand and squeezed it. “If you’re right about him—that he doesn’t love you and never could—then this won’t hurt him. He should be relieved.”
“And if I’m wrong?” Not that she could possibly be wrong. Not about that.
“If you’re wrong, then Peter will take care of it.”
Jane didn’t know if that was a promise or a threat.
Chapter Sixteen
After Mama and the girls went up to bed, Peter summoned Forrester and Spenser to join him in his library. Neil and Sinclaire were talking in hushed tones outside his library when he and his servants arrived, so he called them in as well.
When they were all inside and the doors were closed firmly behind them, Peter turned to Sinclaire and Neil, then sat behind his desk. “Utley?” Somehow, he couldn’t get out any more than that. Even the one word had his voice breaking.
“He left down the servants’ stairs and out the back door,” Neil said. “In a hired hack. I followed him until it stopped at his bachelor lodgings. He went in…but I didn’t get the impression that he intends to stay there long. I think he’s planning to make an escape tonight.”
Sinclaire cursed beneath his breath. “Where is he heading?”
“My guess would be Wales,” Peter said.
They all turned to stare at him.
“Phineas Turnpenny has been siphoning funds from Carreg Mawr for months. I finally sorted it all out recently. I asked Forrester to plant a spy there as a footman to confirm my suspicions.”
“Indeed, Your Grace.” Forrester nodded with a frown. “Martin’s latest report details how he caught Mr. Turnpenny adjusting the ledgers right after sending a suspicious looking package through the post to London. To his knowledge, Turnpenny is still unaware of his true function at the castle.”
“So he’s pilfering from you and sending it to his brother?” Neil said. “Isn’t taking your money enough for Utley?”
“Clearly not,” Peter responded dryly. Neil didn’t know the half of it, but it was better that way.
“Now what?” Sinclaire asked. “He’s headed there now, but—”
“But I can’t very well leave Town, since I have to marry Jane with all due haste,” Peter said, interrupting him.
Neil stood and moved near the hearth, cracking his knuckles. “I’ll go. I can travel faster than he can, since he’s injured. If I leave immediately, I can get there before him and have the magistrate waiting when he arrives.”
Peter sighed. Neil was right, and his plan was probably for the best…but a part of Peter still wanted to be the one to settle matters with Utley, once and for all. For that matter, he wanted to handle things with Phinny. But the crown would have to handle Utley, and the magistrate could see to it that it happened—and he could lock Turnpenny up.
He nodded. “See to it.”
Before Peter could change his mind, Neil was gone. Devil take it, how did his brother move so fast when he wanted to? Clearly, he was spoiling for an adventure. Town life had never really agreed with Neil. It gave him too much time to waste, so waste it he did.
Peter then sent Spenser and Sinclaire to gather up what servants could be found and to search the house for those who were missing.
They were found locked inside an unused drawing room on the third floor. Mrs. Pratt, several maids, and a number of Peter’s footmen, after being rescued from their confinement, all confirmed that Lord Utley was responsible for the deed. He’d brought a pistol into Hardwicke House, so what choice did they have? Thank God they were all unharmed—however frightened they might be.
Finally, hours after the ball had finished, Peter’s house was returned to something resembling normal. He went to the antechamber situated off his library, sat down in the leather covered armchair by the fire, and poured another tumbler of whiskey.
He only wished he could be with Neil at Carreg Mawr when the magistrate confronted Utley and Turnpenny, in order to truly taste the victory. Instead, he would be here, marrying yet another woman he never intended to marry.
Devil take it.
~ * ~
After further discussion, Jane and Sophie decided it was better to wait until the house was quiet tonight, and then sneak Jane out to move to her storefront while the household slept. Even if the household servants didn’t try to stop them or say something to Peter or Cousin Henrietta, surely one of the many members of the Hardwicke family would notice something afoot. Neil, in particular, seemed to somehow notice everything, even though he was rarely present.
No, Jane couldn’t simply prance out the front door dragging a trunk of her belongings behind her. She also couldn’t make it to Bond Street with her trunk on her own. A carriage was an absolute necessity. But not one of Peter’s carriages. She couldn’t risk waking the grooms and having one of them let information slip, or she’d end up right where she had started—being trapped into an unwanted marriage.
Sophie suggested hiring a hackney, which, after much hemming and hawing, they decided was their best course of action. Meg, having been sworn to secrecy, volunteered to go out in search of one—but only after enough time had passed that they could reasonably assume no one would wake. In the meanwhile, all three co-conspirators set to work packing those items Jane simply must take with her, with Mr. Cuddlesworth overseeing their work. He lay in his basket, which was situated on the four-poster bed beside them, with his head propped over the edge to watch their every movement.
“Anything that doesn’t fit into your trunk,” Sophie said, “we can arrange to have delivered to you later on. In fact, I’ll personally bring it all to you—when I come to assist you in opening your shop.�
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“You’re still planning to come then? Oh, but your mother will be murderous when she hears of your plan.”
Meg chuckled and folded another of Jane’s shifts. “Her Grace won’t take the news well, but I hardly think she’ll kill anyone. Least of all her daughter.”
“Besides,” Sophie said, “her reaction to me wanting to help you won’t be anywhere near as explosive as her reaction to your leaving and denying to marry Peter. She thinks of you as her daughter already, you know, and Peter...well, she’s desperate to see him married.”
“You mean she’s desperate to see all of us married.” Jane grimaced. “Do you really think she’ll be cross with me?”
“Cross with you?” Sophie lifted a brow. “Sweetheart, the only thing you need worry about more than her reaction is Peter’s.”
Jane frowned. “But I told you he wouldn’t care.”
“And I told you that you were wrong.” Sophie rolled her eyes heavenward in Meg’s direction. “Honestly, you’d think she would realize I know my brothers rather well after all of these years.”
Meg fixed a pitying gaze on Jane. “Well, I believe I should be on my way to fetch that hackney coach. The trunk is about as full as it will go.”
Sophie nodded at her, then turned to Jane. “You’re certain about this?”
“Positive,” she replied, despite the crickets hopping about in her stomach.
“Very well.”
Meg started toward the door. “I’ll direct your coach to the side of the house.” Then she spun and was gone in the dark stillness of the mansion house.
“Meg asked me if she could go with you,” Sophie said after several moments had passed. She reached a hand over and stroked Mr. Cuddlesworth’s head, eliciting a purr so loud it was almost a roar. “She can’t stand the thought of you being completely alone there, with no one to see after your needs.”
“I’m perfectly capable—”
“I told her she absolutely must. If Peter won’t continue to pay her wages, I will. It would be a good use for my pin money…being sure you’re well looked after.”
Jane hefted a sigh. “If I’m going to have a servant, then I’ll pay her myself. But I refuse to have a servant.” Good gracious, had everyone forgotten that she’d lived her entire life with only a single servant for the entire family? She could manage quite well without any help, at least in that area. Jane threw the last few things she had been fiddling with into the chest and slammed the door closed.
“I’m afraid you’ll be greatly disappointed, then. Meg and I refuse to allow you to leave this house if you don’t take Meg with you.” Sophie reached out and stilled Jane’s hands, which were fumbling with the latches. “You need someone with you. Think of her as a companion, if you will. It isn’t safe for you to be completely alone.”
“I won’t be alone. I’ll have Mr. Cuddlesworth with me.”
Sophie frowned and lifted a brow. “And what will he do to assist you? Purr at any intruders who try to accost you? Sink his claws into Lady High-in-the-Instep’s gown, so she’ll have to purchase a new one?”
Drat, Sophie was right. Jane took a deep breath to calm her nerves. “Fine. Meg can come. Perhaps I can use her assistance in the shop, too. She could take measurements and such.”
Her friend smiled. “That’s an excellent idea. I would feel better, as well, if you had a butler of sorts. A man to offer you some protection.”
“Sophie...” She wished she had been able to better hide the irritation seeping through her voice. It sounded more like a warning than she intended.
“I won’t take a chance with my luck tonight. We’ll discuss it further when I come to help you set up your shop.”
By this point, Jane knew that “discuss it further” coming from Lady Sophia Hardwicke meant she would arrive with a vast array of candidates for the position, and push and prod until Jane allowed one of them to stay.
Argument would be fruitless.
Lovely. And just how was she supposed to pay the wages of not only Meg, but also a footman? Yes, Sophie would offer to pay them. But that wasn’t the point. The point was that this was Jane’s shop, Jane’s livelihood. Sophie could always rely on her brother to care for her if she needed it. Her pin money alone was more than Jane ever hoped to earn in a year from her dress making.
She wanted to prove she could do this on her own. To prove it to herself.
A carriage creaked by outside the window, pulling Jane out of her worries. She dashed to see if it was the hackney, but the driver kept going past where Meg would have stopped.
She held back a curtain and took a breath of the cool, fresh air. A hint of rain danced against her nostrils. Hopefully they would arrive soon. The thought of carrying her trunk alone had her worried, but doing it in the rain? It would be a farce of unparalleled measure.
Her thoughts turned to Peter again. Blast the man. Why must he constantly be at the forefront of her mind? “Why do you believe Peter will be unhappy that I’ve left?” she asked so quietly she was unsure if Sophie had heard.
“You may love my brother, Jane,” she responded after a moment, “but you truly don’t know him very well.” She sighed. “He is a very proud man. The only things he holds in higher esteem than his honor are his family and duty.”
“Duty.” He felt she was his duty—his responsibility. His charge. Had he not said that very thing to her at the first ball of the Season?
She would be damned before she would be his burden to bear.
“Yes. Duty. Admittedly, sometimes he is blinded by his duties.” Sophie walked to stand beside her at the window and looked her plainly in the eyes. “Nevertheless, he now considers you part of his family, and therefore he sees it as his responsibility to protect you—your virtue. He would count it as a mark against his honor if he can’t.”
“I don’t need his protection.” And she bloody well didn’t want it, either.
“By leaving—by rejecting his protection—you’ll also prevent him from maintaining his honor. That’s how he’ll see it.” Sophie turned her stare to the cobbled street below. “I believe your hackney has arrived.”
“But...why are you helping me to do this if it will hurt your brother so egregiously?” Sophie’s relationship with Peter had always seemed to be so loving, albeit in a provoking manner. Playful. Certainly never truly mean-spirited or hurtful.
With a single hand, Sophie brushed a stray curl away from Jane’s face and tucked it behind her ear, a slow, gentle smile forming on her lips. “My brother is a good man, Jane. But there are many things he has yet to learn. Like it or not, I believe you’re meant to be his teacher.”
Meg stole back into the room then, flushed from her brief excursion. “Miss, we’re all ready to go.” She had already brought a valise in with them. Jane supposed it must hold some of Meg’s possessions. “The driver wanted to come in and carry your trunk out, but I insisted he stay outside of the house. His boots would surely wake someone. We’ll simply have to carry it ourselves.”
Which they proceeded to do. Jane settled Mr. Cuddlesworth’s basket on top of the trunk. Meg carried her own valise and one end of the trunk, while Sophie and Jane jointly lifted the other end .
They had a brief scare when Jane tripped slightly at the bottom of the stairs, but thankfully no one called out. They simply scurried along and got out the door where the hackney driver took the trunk from them.
“All right, I suppose this is it, then,” Jane said. “Are you ready, Meg?”
“Yes, miss.”
“I’ll call on you tomorrow, if I can,” said Sophie. “It may take a few days for Mama and Peter to recover from the shock, though, so don’t be surprised if I don’t arrive until later in the week.”
“Sophie?” Jane said. The crickets in her stomach had just turned into frogs. She had thought she would be excited about her adventure. Not scared. Double drat. “You’ll be all right, won’t you? I mean, once they find out that you’ve helped me. And that you intend to contin
ue helping me.”
Good Lord, it sounded like she thought they might hurt her for offering her assistance.
“I can promise you,” came Sophie’s response. “No one will die over this.”
How terribly reassuring.
~ * ~
Peter was so tired when he returned to Hardwicke House after his visit with the Bishop of Canterbury that he felt ready to fall over where he stood. Despite how much he had accomplished last night, his day today was still far from complete.
Instead of even attempting to take a nap, he slipped back into his antechamber and poured himself another glass of whiskey and. He sat there before the empty fireplace, nursing his thoughts and his whiskey.
It wouldn’t be so terrible to be married to Jane. True, she hadn’t been bred to be the wife of a peer—indeed, far from it. But there was a lively glow about her. He doubted he would ever be bored with her. Annoyed, certainly, at least from time to time. Even perplexed, perhaps. But never bored.
He should be thankful Utley had chosen Jane as his victim this time, and not the boring Lady Helene, or one of the several widowed vultures who had been chasing after him since the beginning of the Season.
The events of late could certainly have worked out much less in his favor than they actually had. Still, it was a miserable fate he was now forced to drag Jane into—one she certainly had no desire to see through. She’d made her feelings on the matter easy enough to decipher.
He hated that she would be locked into a marriage, the thought of which so obviously repulsed her. But really, would she have been better with Utley? Hardly.
Peter would be a good husband to her. He would treat her well, and she would want for nothing. That was far better than a number of women in Society marriages could expect. She should be grateful.
Alas, he couldn’t force Jane to appreciate his efforts at preserving her virtue. For that matter, he couldn’t insist that she be happy and expect her to comply. He would simply have to do everything in his power to ensure her contentment within their marriage.
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