“Yes, the scandal you and Lucy are hell-bent on creating.”
“Oh, we’ve been…” Good heavens, was she perspiring? She removed her hand from his shoulder and waved it in the air briefly. “Considering our options.”
“I see,” Upton continued. “And what of Mrs. Bunbury?”
Jane had to concentrate on his words, because otherwise she was thinking about his shoulder. Specifically how good it felt under the tips of her fingers, even through her glove. The man was surprisingly muscled for being Upton. He wore impeccably tailored black evening attire with a sapphire waistcoat and a starchy white cravat that looked enticing against the bit of stubble from his chin that had scraped the soft skin of her cheeks last night. That, coupled with the heady scent of him, and she was finding it altogether too difficult to follow the thread of the conversation.
She sucked in her breath. “Mrs. Bunbury? Yes. We have made progress there.”
“What do you intend to do?” he asked.
Jane squeezed his shoulder just barely. She couldn’t resist. “Lucy says we should keep Mama guessing by constantly acting as if Mrs. Bunbury has been in our presence and left just before Mama arrives.”
He arched a dark brow. “Truly? That’s your plan?”
“Yes. For now.” Why did Upton have to smell so good?
“Seriously?”
Jane trained her gaze over his shoulder. Why did Upton have to have such heavenly hazel eyes? Or more specifically, why had she had to notice that Upton had such heavenly hazel eyes? She’d been quite satisfied with barely noticing them before, thank you very kindly. Though now he was questioning her plan, much more Upton-like of him. Good heavens. Perhaps Lucy had been mistaken about his being in love with her and now Jane was stuck thinking about the blasted color of his eyes.
“Yes,” she answered with a nod. “Between Lucy, Cass, and myself, we believe we can make it work. At least for the day or two of the wedding until we leave for London again.”
Upton’s mouth curved into a smile that made her want to kiss him. Blast it.
“How will you explain that Mrs. Bunbury isn’t traveling back to London with you?” he asked.
Why did Upton insist upon asking a lot of questions about Mrs. Bunbury? Jane could barely concentrate on his words. Instead, she’d been staring at the sensual curve of his lips. Confound Lucy for telling her anything. “Because Mrs. Bunbury is going to become horribly ill the night of the wedding and leave before Mama has a chance to check on her.”
“Poor Mrs. Bunbury.” Upton shook his head.
Jane wanted to thread her fingers through his thick, dark, curly hair. “Don’t worry. Mrs. Bunbury shall recover.” Though Jane might not.
Upton smiled again, flashing his perfect white teeth at her. Since when did she notice that Upton’s teeth were either perfect or white?
“It’s ludicrous, of course,” he said. “But you and Lucy are so confident about it. That is her secret, isn’t it? Lucy makes things work because of her supreme confidence in their working.”
Jane returned his smile. Was he thinking her teeth were perfect and white? She didn’t know about the perfect part, one of the teeth on the bottom was a bit crooked, but they were white. Weren’t they? “I’m not certain what Lucy’s secret is, but she does have confidence. To spare.”
Upton sighed. “I suppose it will give even more credence to the story if I mention to your mother that I’ve met Mrs. Bunbury and she’s a lovely woman and an apt chaperone.”
Jane blinked at him. “You’d do that for me?”
A resigned smile tugged at his lips. “I’ve learned that going against Lucy when her mind is made up is a losing battle. Being a former soldier, I like to have the field in my favor.”
Jane spun around and around in the dance, barely hearing his words. Garrett Upton was going to do her a favor? Without being asked? Without being begged? Oh, heavens. The man was indeed madly, madly in love with her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
There was nothing, absolutely nothing, redeemable about Isabella Langford. Perhaps her beauty, but beauty was fleeting. Awfulness lasted forever.
Jane eyed the woman the next day as the houseguests took a walk to the lake. Lady Moreland had promised there would be rowboats available. Finally, the one enjoyable outing since the house party began. Enough of picnics and balls. Jane could truly enjoy herself relaxing in a rowboat under the shady willow trees, reading her book. She’d tucked a novel in her reticule and marched down here with the rest of them. She wore a serviceable yellow morning dress. No more low-cut ball gowns for her. A white bonnet completed her ensemble and she felt quite returned to her natural element, that of a bluestocking spinster.
Mrs. Langford, however, was dressed like a doxy. Jane watched the woman laugh and smile at every word Upton said. Quite nauseating. Mrs. Langford’s hair was swept up in a set of black curls, held in place by the tiniest hat Jane had ever seen, and a small gown to match her tiny hat. The gown was small in that it had very little fabric covering her chest. It would be more in place at a demimonde banquet than a friendly little rowboating venture at a country house. I hope she gets a sunburn. Not to mention it was a garish shade of red. Though Jane had to admit it brought out the rosy color of Mrs. Langford’s full lips.
By the time their party made its way to the lake, Upton had managed to extricate himself from Mrs. Langford’s clutches. When Jane peeked up from the book she’d been attempting to read while simultaneously attempting not to trip, Upton was strolling alongside her, his hands in his pockets.
They all stopped at the line of newly painted white rowboats that sat in front of the calm, green lake like fat little ducks. “Would you do me the honor of accompanying me?” Upton asked.
Jane snapped her astonished mouth shut, then opened it to ask, “Me?”
“Yes.” He smiled and made a sweeping gesture toward the rowboats.
Jane glanced around. There was no doubt. He was talking to her. The man was so in love with her, poor sop. She might as well take pity on him and do him the honor of accompanying him about the lake.
Jane closed her book and made her way toward an available rowboat with Upton leading the way.
“Mr. Upton, wait for me!” That harlot Isabella Langford’s voice rang out at the last possible moment. She waved her hand as she came scurrying up to them. “Do you have room for one more?” The shameless widow batted her eyelashes at Upton.
Over Mrs. Langford’s head, Upton gave Jane a long-suffering look. “Yes. Of course we can fit one more.” Jane returned his chagrined expression. He’d had to say it. He would hardly be a gentleman if he refused. But Jane wasn’t about to get stuck in a rowboat with Upton and Mrs. Langford, of all odious partners.
“I’m happy to allow the two of you to go. I’ll just find Lucy or Cass.” Jane scanned the bank. Confound it. Lucy and Cass had already pushed off in two separate rowboats being captained by their respective mates.
“Nonsense, Miss Lowndes, do come with us,” Mrs. Langford purred, malicious triumph etched upon her features.
Jane stifled the urge to remind the woman that Upton had invited Jane first and Mrs. Langford was, in fact, coming along with them. Jane turned in a frantic circle searching the riverbank. Wasn’t there someone else with whom she could row? Confound it, again. Daphne had already set sail with Owen Monroe and Lord and Lady Moreland were together. Jane watched in growing terror as one by one each boat set out until there were none left except the one she was standing in front of. Upton stared at her with a boyish charm Jane wished she hadn’t noticed.
“It’s quite all right.” Jane backed away from the grassy bank. “I’ll just sit under a tree and read. I’ll be perfectly fine, I assure you.”
Mrs. Langford looked eager to accept this excuse and opened her mouth to no doubt issue an appropriate reply when Upton interjected.
He held a hand out toward Jane. “Please, Miss Lowndes, come with me.”
It was that last word that was Jan
e’s undoing. If he had said come with “us,” Jane surely would have refused, but he had said “me,” clearly indicating to Jane that Mrs. Langford was the interloper.
“Very well,” Jane replied softly.
If Mrs. Langford was at all affected by Upton’s choice of words she didn’t let it show. Instead, she smiled her obsequious smile and held out a hand to allow Upton to help her into the small boat.
Jane waited for Mrs. Langford to get settled, complete with a false attempt at tripping and falling into Upton’s arms, something Jane couldn’t help but roll her eyes at. Upton had seen the widow do it. That shameless woman obviously didn’t care. Jane gazed back at the willow tree along the bank with real longing as she mentally counted off the ways in which this could be any worse. There could be ants. Or water snakes. Or two Mrs. Langfords instead of one.
Upton turned to Jane and held out his hand. “May I help you?” He said it in such a charming voice that Jane momentarily forgot Mrs. Langford was there.
Jane braced her hand against Upton’s strong warm arm and allowed him to help her onto the wooden bench in the back of the rowboat. Upton had maneuvered them so that he sat in the middle, facing Jane. Mrs. Langford was perched in the bow of the vessel, craning her neck to get Upton’s attention. Jane sighed. Very well, perhaps she could suffer a turn or two around the lake and then she would go in for her afternoon nap, and later there would be teacake. One must always look upon the bright side, mustn’t one?
Jane spent the first several moments in the boat trying not to notice how good Garrett’s muscles looked outlined in his shirtsleeves. He’d removed his jacket in order to row more effectively. He’d worked up a bit of a sweat on his forehead and that, combined with the scent of him, his spicy cologne she’d become intimately acquainted with recently, was making her uncomfortably warm. She turned her bonneted head away in an attempt to catch the slight breeze coming off the water.
She made a mental note to scold Lucy and Cass for leaving her alone with Upton and Mrs. Langford. What could they have been thinking? That she would enjoy herself with these two? Even if Lucy was making a poor attempt at matchmaking, it made no sense for a threesome to be on the water together. Hardly romantic. Not that she wanted to be romantic with Upton. Er, again. Certainly not. Definitely not.
“It’s a lovely day for rowing,” Mrs. Langford said.
Jane nearly breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps the widow would stick to such inane comments and Jane might be left to read her book in peace. Though she couldn’t help but glance up at Upton from time to time, just to try to determine if he was indeed in love with her and perhaps to catch a glimpse of those muscles.
“It is indeed,” Upton replied just as innocuously.
Jane pulled her book up to her nose.
A gasp came from Mrs. Langford’s general direction. “Don’t tell me you intend to read during this lovely boat ride, Miss Lowndes.”
Jane didn’t care for the way the woman pronounced the word “read,” as if it might be interchangeable with shaking babies or kicking puppies. She didn’t even spare the woman a glimpse. Nor did she lower her book. “That’s precisely what I intend to do.”
“Egad. I cannot imagine a less interesting way to pass the time,” Mrs. Langford replied. “The only things I read are fashion magazines.”
“Why does that not surprise me?” Jane murmured under her breath, peeking over the top of her book momentarily to give the widow a disdainful stare.
“What was that?” Mrs. Langford pushed herself up from her reclining position, bracing both hands on either side of the boat, presumably in an attempt to gain a better vantage point from which to hear Jane.
“I’m not certain that browsing through fashion magazines can be equated with reading, but it sounds like a valiant attempt,” Jane replied. “At any rate, this particular chapter of this particular book is quite compelling. I do hope you’ll excuse me while I get back to it.” Jane could have sworn she saw Upton smother a smile.
“What book is it?” he asked.
Jane’s head snapped up to face him. She lowered the book. “Pardon?”
“What book is it?” he repeated.
“What does it matter? Isn’t one as boring as the next?” Mrs. Langford added in a supercilious tone, tittering at her own joke.
Jane rolled her eyes, but she refocused on Upton and his surprising question. If she didn’t know better, she’d say he sounded as if he actually cared. “The Mysteries of Udolpho.”
Upton nodded. “Ah, Ann Radcliffe.”
Jane’s mouth fell open. “You know of Ann Radcliffe?”
“Yes, I’ve read the novel twice.”
“Ann Radcliffe, the female author?”
“Yes,” he replied. “Since Ann is traditionally the name of a female, I had my suspicions.”
Still attempting to absorb that astounding information, Jane glanced over his shoulder to see a pout on Mrs. Langford’s face. “Tell me you’re jesting, Mr. Upton.”
“Not only have I read it twice, I’ve also read The Romance of the Forest and The Italian. Though I must say I prefer The Mysteries of Udolpho.”
“You do?” Jane narrowed her eyes on him. Was he jesting? Teasing her? Had he lost his mind? Or was he lying?
“What is your favorite part of this book?” She held it up.
“Is this the first time you’re reading it?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied, eyes still narrowed.
“Then I shan’t give away the ending but I’ll simply say that Sister Agnes may not be the sweet nun she appears to be.”
Jane’s eyes narrowed further. Very well. That might be true. But she had already read one of the other books. He could not trick her with that one. “What did you think of The Romance of the Forest?”
“I thought it was a great deal of trouble to get up to instead of paying one’s debt. Not to mention the fate of poor Adeline. I do sympathize with the lady, considering how entirely she was at the mercy of a lot of awful men.”
Jane braced her free hand against the side of the boat. The world was spinning. Upton, handsome, merrymaking Upton, had read the works of Ann Radcliffe? And could speak intelligently on the subject? It was beyond comprehension.
And had he just defended the rights of females?
“I do enjoy some books,” Mrs. Langford hastened to add from her perch in the front of the boat.
“Like what?” Jane couldn’t help herself.
“I read Secrets of a Wedding Night recently.”
“That’s more of a pamphlet really,” Jane pointed out. She refused to tell Mrs. Langford that she’d not only read it, she’d actually enjoyed it too.
Mrs. Langford’s voice dripped with ire. “We cannot all be devotees of Shakespeare and Ann Radliffe, like you are, Miss Lowndes.”
“More’s the pity,” Jane replied. “And it’s Radcliffe.”
Mrs. Langford nearly snarled at her. “Let’s talk about something else, shall we? Such as the parties in London. I, for one, cannot wait for the Season to get under way. Are you going to the Hathaways’ ball, Mr. Upton?”
Upton glanced at Jane before he replied to Mrs. Langford. “I am.”
Jane pressed her lips together. The thought of those two together, in London, being good-looking and drinking champagne and dancing and laughing and— It made her positively …
By God, was she actually getting … jealous?
No. It was not possible. Horrifying thought.
“Will you be in London for the Season, Miss Lowndes?” Mrs. Langford asked.
“Not if I can help it,” Jane replied, her book back in front of her nose.
“Is that supposed to be funny?” Mrs. Langford replied, her voice taking on an irritated edge.
“It was supposed to be,” Jane replied. “Though perhaps not to you.”
Mrs. Langford replied with a grunt. “I’ve found that people who think themselves intelligent also tend to think themselves funny.”
“What do uni
ntelligent, unfunny people think of themselves?” Jane asked, lowering the book to face the widow as if extremely interested in the answer. “Do tell.”
“We ought to be getting back,” Upton interjected. “It looks as if a storm might be coming up and the others seem to be heading in.”
Jane turned her attention to the sky. She’d been so involved in her battle of words with Mrs. Langford she’d failed to notice the dark clouds moving in. They were indeed gathering over the lake in an ominous gray mass. The other boats were quickly rowing toward the shore.
“Too bad,” Mrs. Langford said with a pout on her lips.
Yes, too bad the widow wouldn’t be able to spend the rest of the afternoon sniping at her in the boat.
Upton rowed quickly to shore. The small boat skimmed along the water until it hit land. Upton stood, braced one foot against the muddy shore, and then leaned down and dragged the boat a bit closer to the grass before turning to help Jane disembark first.
Jane allowed him to take her hand and help her to stand on the grass. “Be careful,” she said, motioning with her chin back toward the boat and Mrs. Langford. “I’m convinced she bites.”
Upton slipped her a wry grin.
Jane turned back to watch Mrs. Langford. The lady had already stood and was teetering precariously as the boat lurched from side to side. “Be careful,” Upton called. “Let me help you.” He lunged for her but was too late. Mrs. Langford, tiny hat and gown and all, plunged over the side of the rowboat into the shallow mud and water.
“Goodness me!” she exclaimed, and from the tone of her voice, Jane knew the widow had done it on purpose.
Lucy and Cass hurried over. Derek and Julian and the others were seeing to the boats.
“Mrs. Langford! Are you all right?” Cass asked, genuine concern marring her porcelain features.
“She’s fine,” Jane muttered as Upton waded in to retrieve the woman from the water. He scooped her into his arms and lifted her, then strode onto the grass where he set her down and wrapped his coat around her. “Are you all right? Nothing broken?”
“I don’t th—think so,” Mrs. Langford said in the most false-sounding, sad voice Jane had ever heard. “I’m so clumsy,” the widow added for good measure.
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