The Unlikely Lady

by Valerie Bowman

  “I was what?”

  Jane closed her eyes briefly. “You were making love to Mrs. Langford.”

  “What!” Garrett’s face went ashen pale. “Mrs. Langford was there? In my room that night?”

  “Yes. I saw you, the two of you.”

  Garrett knelt in front of her. He grabbed her hand. “Think hard, Jane, think. What exactly did you see? I wasn’t there that night. I swear it. Someone locked me in the wine cellar.”

  Jane searched her memory. What exactly had she seen? “I saw … I saw Mrs. Langford standing near your bed and you … or someone … kissing her. I only saw the back of his head. He looked like you, tall, dark-haired, and he was in your room.”

  Garrett’s face was grim. He cursed under his breath. “Isabella’s footman is tall and has dark hair. He’s not unlike me physically.”

  “But how did she know? How would she have known we planned to—”

  “I don’t know. But I bloody well intend to find out.”

  Jane cupped her hand over her mouth. She was going to be sick. “You’re betrothed to her.”

  “We haven’t announced our betrothal yet, but this changes everything. Besides, you must know, I never would have offered for her if it wasn’t for—”

  “What? What does she have over you, Garrett? Lucy seems to think she’s forcing you somehow.”

  “No. Not that. I wouldn’t allow that. She … showed me a letter. But it doesn’t matter. I must speak to Isabella. If she did what we think she did, it is beyond the pale.”

  “What letter?”

  Garrett took a deep breath. “In Spain. Harold Langford. You asked me once if I was there when he died. I was. In fact…” Garrett hung his head. “He died for me.”

  Jane grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “Tell me. What happened?”

  Garrett moved into the seat next to her, his hands clasped in his lap. He took a deep breath and recounted the same story he’d once told Isabella.

  When he’d finished, Jane set a trembling hand on his. “I’m sorry, Garrett. So sorry.”

  He stared at her, unseeing. “I relive that moment every night in my dreams.”

  “It must be hell for you.” She rubbed her hand against his. “But you have to know that Captain Langford made that choice. He wanted you to live.”

  “That doesn’t make the guilt go away. In the dreams, I try to make it right. I attempt to save him, push him away, tell him no. Harold had two children. He had a wife. Isabella deserved better than to have the father of her children die for me.”

  “You’ve been taking care of her, haven’t you, Garrett?”

  He nodded, once. “It’s the least I could do … for Harold and the children.”

  Jane’s heart ached for him. If only Isabella Langford deserved him. “Why do you think Mrs. Langford did what she did at the party?”

  Garrett searched her face. “I think she was jealous of you, Jane. She’d obviously decided before she came that she wanted a proposal from me. I told her no. I wasn’t willing to do it.” He hung his head again. “Until she showed me the letter.”

  “What does the letter say?”

  Garrett rubbed a knuckle across his forehead. “It’s from Harold. He wanted me to take care of Isabella and their children. He asked me to. How could I refuse? I owe the man my life.”

  Jane took a shaky breath. “I cannot imagine how difficult this must be for you.”

  He shook his head. “It’s not just the letter. Isabella told me … she’s with child. Now I suspect her footman may be the father.”

  Jane gasped.

  “I must go see her. I must ask her what she’s done, get her to admit her guilt.” Garrett turned and looked Jane in the eye. “I have to know something, Jane. Could there ever be a future between you and me?”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  The sharp raps on Jane’s bedchamber door tore her from her sleep. She blinked open one eye. Estimating by the amount of sunlight streaking through the window, it was, regrettably, morning, far too early to rise. She’d been up all night piecing together everything that had happened.

  Isabella Langford was absolutely dreadful. What sort of a woman did things like tampering with saddles and conking people over the head with wine bottles? Then to stage a scene like the one she had in Garrett’s room. With her own servant? It was positively revolting. Now Garrett was betrothed to that hideous woman, and she was increasing with another man’s child.

  Garrett’s sense of honor ran deep, Jane knew, but deep enough to marry a woman like Isabella? She doubted it. She also doubted Isabella would admit to the things she’d done, and there was no way to prove any of them.

  Garrett intended to confront Isabella, but that was between them. What Jane couldn’t stop thinking about was his question to her. Could they have a future together?

  Could they? She’d spent the night contemplating that question and still didn’t have an answer.

  Another sharp rap sounded at her door, pulling Jane from her thoughts.

  “Who is it?” she called.

  “Your mother!”

  Jane groaned and pulled the pillow over her head. Mama knew better than to bother her at such an ungodly hour. If she was rapping on Jane’s door this early, it wasn’t going to be good.

  “Come in,” Jane managed to reply, though her words were horribly garbled by the pillow.

  Her mother marched into the room. Jane dragged the pillow from her face and blinked one bleary eye.

  “Miss?” Her mother crossed her arms over her chest. Another bad sign.

  “Yes?” Jane stuffed the pillow behind her head and managed to sit up.

  “Did you do something you ought not at the wedding house party?”

  Jane blinked. Panic rose within her. Stalling was the best tactic. “Pardon?”

  “Lady Elrod just left. She said she was distressed to report she’d heard some unsavory gossip about your behavior at the house party.”

  “What in the world is Lady Elrod doing paying calls at this time of day? It isn’t even noon, is it?” More stalling. Well done.

  “It is nearly noon, young lady, and that is not the point. Were you or were you not gallivanting about the corridors of the Morelands’ estate in the middle of the night in your dressing gown?”

  “Gallivanting? I’m not even certain how one goes about gallivanting, Mama.”

  Her mother stamped her foot. “Answer me, Jane!”

  Jane rubbed her sweaty palms against the bedsheets. “I’m trying to answer you. I don’t know what you are implying.”

  “Lady Elrod informed me there is a rumor that you were seen in the bachelor wing of the house far past a decent hour wearing only your dressing gown and night rail.”

  It was her chemise, actually. “I’d like to know how Lady Elrod knows anything about it,” Jane replied. “She wasn’t even invited to the house party.”

  “Jane, I’m not going to ask you again. Is there any truth to this rumor?”

  Jane took a deep breath. She had two choices. She could admit that she had, indeed, been gallivanting about in her dressing gown, which might give her mother an apoplectic fit. Or she could deny she had been gallivanting about in her dressing gown, which she doubted her mother would believe at the moment. The latter might convince her mother to leave her alone, temporarily at least, until more gossip reached her ears. But the former might cause her mother to realize that the scandal was well on its way to ruining Jane’s reputation, and that alone would be reason enough to keep Jane from attending any of the Season’s events. Oh, yes. That was the obvious choice, then.

  “Yes, Mama,” Jane said with a nod. “I was gallivanting about in the middle of the night wearing nothing other than my night rail and dressing gown.” It probably wasn’t prudent to mention the chemise.

  Her mother gasped. Her hands fell to her sides. “You were not!”

  Jane winced. “You asked and I told you the truth. What did you want me to say?”

  “I wanted you to sa
y it was a complete fabrication.”

  Jane concentrated on picking lint off the coverlet. “I’m sorry, Mama, but it’s true.”

  Her mother paced in front of the large window that looked down over the gardens in the back of the town house. She wrung her hands. “What are we to do?”

  “What is there to do?” Jane offered.

  “I cannot face my friends and tell them this isn’t true, knowing that it is. You’ll be ruined!”

  Jane settled back into the pillows. “I doubt there’s much to be done other than my forgoing social events for the foreseeable future. I’ll just remain here and read. A pity.”

  Her mother stopped pacing, put her hands on her hips, and glared at her. “No you don’t. You’re not going to get away with this. Your chaperone will be held accountable for this. Where was Mrs. Bunbury when you were gallivanting about in the middle of the night?”

  “I’m certain she was asleep, poor woman.” Jane’s fingers itched to pick up the book she’d left off reading last night.

  Hortense Lowndes’s voice simmered with outrage. “If your reputation is ruined, she’ll never find work in this town again. I demand to see Mrs. Bunbury immediately!”

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  How Jane managed to sneak out of her town house and make it to Lucy’s, she would never know. It was a miracle as far as Jane was concerned. After she’d convinced her mother she would have to write Mrs. Bunbury a note and ask the woman to pay them a visit as soon as she was feeling up to it, Jane had slipped out of the back door. She scurried past the mews, nodding to Mrs. Cat, and managed to hire a hack near the corner to take her the several streets to Lucy’s town house.

  Once she arrived on Lucy’s doorstep, Jane rapped on the huge black-lacquered door. The duke’s butler, Hughes, soon answered it.

  “I’ve come to call on Her Grace,” Jane announced.

  The butler gave her a condemning glare, but ushered her into the blue salon at the front of the house before going to alert his mistress that she had a visitor. Jane paced while she waited for Lucy.

  “Jane, dear, what is it?” Lucy asked as she hurried into the room moments later.

  “Lucy, it’s terrible. Mama found out about the scandal and now she’s demanding to confront Mrs. Bunbury. What shall we do?”

  Lucy merely nodded. “How did she find out?”

  “Apparently, Lady Elrod told her,” Jane replied.

  Lucy’s pretty face crumpled into a scowl. “What does Lady Elrod know about it?”

  Jane tossed her hands in the air. “It doesn’t matter. The fact is, Mama knows and she’s incensed. She says she plans to ensure Mrs. Bunbury doesn’t work in this town again. She refuses to give her a good reference.”

  Lucy clucked her tongue. “Not much of a threat, dear.”

  Jane shook her head. “Also, not the point. Mama demands to see her.”

  Lucy pursed her lips. “Well, that’s not possible.”

  Jane struggled to keep from raising her voice. “Of course it’s not possible. The question is, what are we going to do?”

  Lucy shrugged one shoulder. “Stall her.”

  “The time for stalling is over, Lucy. Mama is beside herself. I’ve never seen her so angry. I managed to tell her that I had to write to Mrs. Bunbury and ask her to pay us a call. Then I came here, but Mama won’t believe me for much longer. If I don’t produce Mrs. Bunbury soon, she’ll know it’s all a ruse.”

  Lucy tapped a finger against her cheek. “It seems we have only two choices.”

  “And they are?”

  “To produce Mrs. Bunbury or admit she doesn’t exist.”

  Jane pinched the bridge of her nose. “Heaven help me. Which of those two do you suggest?”

  “Let me think on it a bit. Don’t worry, dear. We’ll sort it out. Perhaps Mrs. Bunbury can die in a freak accident. Or leave suddenly for France.”

  Jane ignored her friend’s prattling. She had something even more pressing on her mind. “There’s something else I need to tell you, Lucy. Something I should have told you long before now.” Jane bit her lip. “It’s about Garrett.”

  Lucy raised both brows. “You’re calling him Garrett now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, this is serious.”

  “I went to his town house alone yesterday.” She paused. “Why didn’t you tell me he had a giant library?”

  “If you think that’s giant, you should see the one at his country estate. What were you doing at Garrett’s town house?”

  “He invited me.”

  “Invited you?”

  “Yes, to borrow a book and I—I wanted to see him, too, if I’m being honest. Oh, Lucy, you won’t believe it.” She pressed her hands to her cheeks.

  “Believe what, dear?”

  “I think you need to sit.”

  Eyeing Jane carefully, Lucy sat.

  Jane spent the next twenty minutes telling Lucy every single sordid thing that had happened between her and Garrett. Well, not every sordid thing. She left out the more private details, but shared enough for Lucy to get the essence. Afterward, Jane dropped her head into her hands. “Lucy, what am I to do?”

  “This is not surprising to me in the least,” Lucy said.

  “It’s not?”

  “I’m not surprised you and Garrett have shared a tendre for each other. I thought as much during the house party. That’s why Cass and I did what we did.”

  Jane groaned. “But you didn’t know for certain.”

  “True. I only had my suspicions. I admit, those often get me into more trouble than they should. At any rate, I agree with you that Mrs. Langford is behind whoever locked Garrett in the wine cellar.”

  “He says he’s going to confront her about it, but he’s already committed to marrying her. Apparently, he did so because of a letter.”

  “A letter?”

  “Yes, from Harold Langford. Captain Langford asked Garrett to take care of Isabella if anything happened to him.”

  “Why would Garrett do that?”

  Jane tugged at her sleeve. “Because Harold Langford took a bullet that would have ended Garrett’s life. The letter means a great deal to him.”

  “I’ve always known Garrett feels terribly guilty over something that happened in Spain, though he’s never told me what that was,” Lucy said. “I think his guilt is severely clouding his judgment. Captain Langford couldn’t possibly have known he would die in that fashion. We must find out more about this. I have a feeling Mrs. Langford is behind that letter too.”

  Jane nodded. “I don’t doubt it, but how could we ever prove such a thing?”

  Lucy tapped her cheek again. “We must see the letter for ourselves. Did you borrow your book?”

  “No. I didn’t find it and then Garrett told me the story about Isabella and the wine cellar and I completely forgot about the book. He did say I could come back whenever I wished, however.”

  Lucy smiled slyly. “That’s perfect. Return to Garrett’s house to borrow that book, and while you’re there, look for the letter.”

  Jane gasped. “I can’t do that.”

  “Whyever not?”

  “You want me to root around in his private things?”

  Lucy nodded. “Yes, exactly.”

  “I can’t do that, Lucy.”

  “I’d do it. Be bold.”

  Jane groaned.

  Lucy patted her shoulder. “Think of it this way, dear, what would Lucy Hunt do?”

  Jane pressed her palm to her forehead. “She’d go to Garrett’s town house and search for that letter.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Garrett had gone straight to Isabella’s town house as soon as the hour had been decent. She wasn’t in, or so the butler had said. Garrett had left more frustrated than before. He wanted to confront her, to ask her why she’d done what she’d done. How had she known he and Jane were planning to meet in his room that night?

  After his talk with Jane yesterday, he had more to think about than ever. Ja
ne had not answered him when he’d asked if they could have a future together. He didn’t blame her. He’d made a complete mess of things. He’d proposed to her too late at the house party, and now he was asking her about their future while he was supposed to become formally betrothed to another lady. The wrong lady. A lady who would apparently stop at nothing to get what she wanted. How the devil had things got so complicated in such a sort amount of time?

  “Sir, would you like to go home?” the coachman said as Garrett reentered the vehicle.

  “No, John. Take me to my mother’s.”

  Ten minutes later, Garrett was sitting in his mother’s drawing room. Mary Upton came pattering in, a wide smile on her face. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “I thought I’d stop and see how you are.”

  His mother arched a dark brow. “I think the more important question is, how are you, my son?”

  Garrett wrinkled his brow. “What do you mean?”

  “I may be getting on in years but I still keep abreast of the latest news. There is quite a lot of talk about you lately.”

  “Talk? About me?”

  “You, the house party, Miss Lowndes?” His mother dragged out the last two words in a dramatic fashion.

  “What about Miss Lowndes?”

  “Seems the gossips are saying she was spotted in her night rail near the bachelors’ quarters the night of the earl’s wedding.”

  Garrett struggled to keep his face blank. His mother eyed him carefully. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

  He didn’t meet his mother’s gaze. “Why would you think I’d know about that?”

  His mother had picked up her stitching, one of her favorite pastimes. She shrugged one shoulder. “Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps because I heard that you and Jane looked quite enamored with each other when you danced on the night of the wedding.”

  Garrett widened his eyes. “Enamored?”

  His mother shrugged the other shoulder. “Yes, and what’s this about you going and getting yourself engaged to Isabella Langford?”

  “It’s not yet official.”