She listed several teachers that Jane did not know, but Lady Amelia inclined her head, the picture of grace. Jane felt that there was some purpose to her speech, but she did not know what it was.
“I do remember your being partial to the instrument as well, Lady Amelia,” Lady Margret continued. “I am sure you have not had the time to practice that I have, moldering away here in the country. There is positively nothing else to do.”
“Miss Bellevue and I were just this morning discussing horseback riding,” Lady Charlotte said in an attempt to change the subject.
“I do love riding,” Jane added.
“But we were speaking of music,” Lady Margret said decisively, and Lady Amelia’s eyes flashed fire at the affront.
“Oh no, Lady Margret,” Lady Amelia said heatedly, and all attempts to change the topic ceased. “We were speaking of ladylike pursuits, riding, needlepoint, and of course, music. I must say, I do take the time to practice daily regardless of what other activities I may enjoy, including riding.” She nodded to Jane and then continued. “I think if something is to be done, it should be done well. Do you not agree? That is a lady’s prerogative.”
“Of course,” Margret said a little warily.
“Besides, Father bought me a new instrument,” Lady Amelia said with a negligent wave of her hand. “I could not let it lie in waste. The very latest design shipped from Germany. The sound quality is quite amazing.”
“I have heard that sound quality is dependent upon the skill of the musician,” Lady Margret said tartly.
“Indeed, it is.”
Jane heard a lace of steel in Lady Amelia’s voice.
“I do hope you will grace us with a number during your stay,” Lady Amelia offered. The words were spoken as a challenge, and Lady Patience nudged Jane’s arm in camaraderie.
“Certainly, Lady Amelia. It would bring me great pleasure to play for you,” Margret replied.
“Now seems to be a fitting occasion as ever,” Lady Amelia said, a smirk crossing her face as she looked across the crowded room. “The gentlemen will return soon.” Jane was not exactly sure what was happening, but Lady Charlotte seemed to be excited.
“Perhaps a duet?” Lady Amelia said, “Since you have been practicing the Bach. We should not let such effort go to waste.”
Lady Margret stilled for a moment though kept a smile on her face as she considered the idea. But instead she finally turned to address Jane, “Do you play, Miss Bellevue?”
Jane was surprised that she was spoken to directly; in fact she had thought that Lady Margret would completely forget her name as soon as possible. The way Lady Margret emphasized Miss made Jane’s stomach clench. Still, she answered politely.
“I play, although I have no great love for the instrument. Not like Lady Amelia. I prefer riding or when confined indoors, reading to any form of music,” Jane replied, trying to keep her tone even. “I am all thumbs,” she said self-deprecatingly. “I would not play for company.”
“A pity, for sure,” Lady Margret offered in return just as the gentlemen reentered the room. “Well, then, I should be returning to my Lord Keegain. I’m sure he misses me already.”
“I look forward to our playing together,” Lady Amelia insisted. “In fact, it is a shame that Miss Bellevue does not play, but I am sure Lady Patience can be coaxed into a trio.”
“You play? Bach?” Lady Margret asked Lady Patience the surprise evident in her voice.
“I do,” Lady Patience said simply.
With that Lady Margret dipped her head and walked off, crossing the room without so much as a by your leave. Her friends followed at a respectable distance. Lady Helen seemed unable to decide which way to go, but eventually, with an apologetic smile towards her sister, she followed Lady Margret.
“Yes, run away,” Lady Amelia said under her breath, and then to Lady Patience, “Do you feel better?”
“I did not ask you to do that,” she said.
“Oh, I quite enjoyed it,” Lady Amelia admitted. “A lady should always be cordial, even when patience is tried.”
Lady Patience giggled at the pun on her name and Jane noticed that Lady Helen had gone to her mother, while Lady Margret moved to occupy the chair next to Lord Keegain, although he did not glance at Margret when she took the seat. He seemed to be far away and pensive. Jane wondered what was on his mind, but Lady Margret noticed her stare and fixed her gaze on Jane, forcing Jane to look away.
“Lady Margret used to be such fun. We were all friends, once upon a time,” Lady Charlotte said thoughtfully. “I do not know what happened to damage our friendship. I do apologize. She was quite rude.”
“I cannot abide rudeness,” Lady Amelia whispered, frustration laced in her words.
“Pay no attention to her,” Lady Patience offered. “It is certain Lord Keegain does not. Though I thought they were supposed to be a love match.”
“Obviously not,” Lady Amelia observed. “Do not let that woman upset you,” she soothed Lady Patience. Her eyes came up to meet Jane’s. “Either of you,” she added. “A true lady is proud, but never cruel.”
Jane tried to offer her friends a grateful smile, but she felt that she could not. Her attention to the earl had been noticed by Lady Margret, if not by others, and she did not feel as brave as she had earlier.
She was no lady. She did not belong in these circles. Perhaps her mother’s advice had been wrong and Jane would have benefitted better from guarding her heart instead of following it. Lady Charlotte linked arms with her and smiled.
“We shall go riding before the week is out,” she insisted. “I am glad you ride, Lady Amelia. I hope you and Lady Patience will accompany us.”
“Of course,” Lady Patience said and launched into a tale of riding in Hyde Park last spring. “Although I do try to stay out of the sun,” she explained.
As the night wore on, Jane schooled herself not to look towards the earl. She had no desire to watch his reactions to Lady Margret. Instead, she spoke pleasantly with her friends. Even when joyful laughter would erupt from the other side of the room, Jane did not dare look to see if Lord Keegain was joining in the laughter with Lady Margret or not.
By the time Jane was able to return to her bedchamber, finally alone with her thoughts; she was relieved to be free of the company. How had the pleasant holiday feeling that had been with her all week, suddenly vanished?
She knew why. All week she had settled into the rhythm of the household. All week she had felt like a member of the family, and now that Lady Margret had returned, it was clear Jane was most definitely not family.
She allowed Jacqueline to help her dress for bed.
“You are: how you say? Mélancolie?” Jacqueline observed.
“Only pensive,” Jane corrected, but that was not quite true. Jacqueline had seen the truth. Once Jane was completely alone, she let down her guard.
She crawled into bed pulling the blankets up to her chin. The maids had left the bed warmer and the soft feather bed was comfort itself. She blew out the candle and as darkness completely enveloped her, Jane pulled the pillow to her chest and fought the tears that tightened her throat. She would not cry. She would not allow Lady Margret’s cruel dismissal to upset her.
Lord Keegain was never hers, and he never would be hers. She had to let go of this silly fantasy. He was an earl. He was engaged. Jane was a practical girl, and she knew when reality could not be changed. Hadn’t the death of her mother taught her that? Some things would not, and could not change. They just had to be borne. Finally, she could hold back the tears no longer, and she muffled the sobs against her pillow as her heart broke in two.
14
Randolph Keening, the Earl of Keegain gently swirled the brandy snifter in his hand warming it as he stood by the window. The Duke of Ely stood with his own glass.
“I say, it is likely a bad storm brewing, Keegain,” the duke said from behind him. Keegain nodded silently wondering whether the duke referred to the gathering gray clouds on the horizon,
or if he were referencing their earlier conversation. The gathered armies of France amassed under the mad little dictator who seemed bent on taking over the world.
Keegain hoped that the more literal storm would hold out until his guests were all safely ensconced in the house. He knew where the lane drew close to the river it became icy in inclement weather. He had ordered a fence around that section of the lane to keep conveyances from sliding over the bank and into the water. Several carriages were still due to arrive. At least most had made it safely.
His intended, Lady Margret had returned to residence. Many of the ladies had arrived over the last week; his sister’s friends, and most especially, Jane. Miss Jane Bellevue. He remembered her face, sweet and serene as she had looked sitting across the parlor from him; sitting across the breakfast table from him. It was a most domestic moment and yet it was a moment he treasured.
Jane. It suited her; simple, yet elegant. He remembered how her hand trembled under his at the breakfast table and how her face turned up to him under mistletoe, so expectant. He should not have considered kissing her; now he could not forget it.
As his eye studied the horizon, Keegain took a sip of his brandy. He considered the Duke of Ely’s words. The earl wondered if there was any safety left at all. He swallowed hard. All that he had to lose made the duke’s warning that much more dire. The responsibility for so many lives lay upon him; his guests’ and his sisters’. How would he bear it if anything happened to any of them while they were under his roof?
The Duke of Ely’s voice had echoed in his thoughts. The duke was no alarmist, although there were many lords who were unnerved by Napoleon’s bluster.
Keegain and the duke were Englishmen and stood proudly for their country. Yet, the war in the colonies had been taxing, especially trying to fight the colonies and France at the same time. The King had gone mad, yes, but the Regent was fully in control now, and the Crown was stable. Well, as stable as any monarch’s seat on a throne could be while Napoleon raged.
That did not vouchsafe security for anyone.
But this? This madness was surely beyond the pale. The fact that the duke had sworn to the veracity of it; and that, in fact, there was a history of such horrifying events, made Keegain pause. His estate was days from London, and even if he had been active in the Ton, the very nature of secrecy and the deuced paranoia of anything that even hinted of scandal would doubtless have kept them all in the dark anyway.
“Can I count on you then?” the duke pressed gently.
Keegain dropped his gaze from the horizon and brought himself back to his guest and the troubling conversation. He nodded. “Of course.”
Lord Keegain strode to the crackling fireplace, as if to warm himself, but all he felt was the cold draft around the flames. He dipped his fingers into the pocket of his waistcoat, the sharp crackle of the letter stored there made him pause in mute apology. He had chosen to not believe the contents of the letter, doubted even the authenticity of Lord Beresford’s hand. But to hear it again from the Duke of Ely sent a chill through his frame that could not be blamed on the occasional draft.
“How is this possible, Your Grace? In my own home! Are you completely sure?” Maybe it was not well to question the veracity of a man in the duke’s position, but the words came in a strangled cry of unexpressed anguish, a plea that the older man might tell him that the world could be a safe place; that his home could be a safe place.
The duke took no offense. “Yes, Keegain, I am sure.”
“Then perhaps your informants erred?” Lord Keegain waved that off. “I am sorry… I’m just…” He pulled himself to heel and straightened his spine. “Please, Your Grace, just so I do not misunderstand, would you tell me again?”
“If you cannot credit it, Keegain,” The duke said kindly, “then you have not misunderstood.” He set down his glass and took a breath, meeting the earl’s eyes, his expression soft, but his voice was hard and rough. “There is a traitor among us.” He spoke patiently, his tone somber. “He moves in circles only open to the peerage. For this reason, several King’s men will be at the ball tomorrow, mingling with your guests. I believe you have already met Mr. Reynolds.”
“Ted Reynolds is friend. I understood him to be in His Majesty’s service, yes, but as to the others…” Lord Keegain trailed off.
The duke clapped Keegain’s shoulder. “I shall introduce them all to you straight way. That way you’ll have a good idea what they look like behind their masks.” The duke’s expression fell then and the grasp on Keegain’s shoulder tightened with the weight of importance. “But Keegain, whatever you may do, keep your sisters close.” The duke gave a little shake on the last word, the elder generation imparting wisdom on the younger and Keegain nodded.
“Damn this ball.” Keegain set his glass on the mantle. “Would it not be better to send the ladies away, someplace safe?”
The duke shook his head sadly and headed back to the padded chair he had so recently occupied. “No, Keegain, I sympathize, I very much do. My daughter, Amelia is at risk as well. She is the very light of my life. I desire to protect her as much as you would your sisters, but if they were sent away, the traitor would be warned and would crawl back into the woodwork, only to arise again and cause more trouble. No, the only way to catch the traitors is if they believe they have the upper hand, though I very much doubt the villains will be caught in their cups; too much is at stake.”
The duke sat down heavily in one of the winged leather armchairs in Lord Keegain’s private study. “Now, you must keep your own counsel on this, Keegain. Not even your own sisters should suspect anything amiss.”
The earl nodded, but reached for the glass again.
“I will need your oath.” The duke’s face was iron now as he leaned forward in his chair.
Lord Keegain’s head whipped up and he returned the duke’s look with one of fire. “My word is my bond.”
“Do not bristle your feathers at me, lad,” Ely warned him. “If I had a moment’s doubt about your word or your loyalty to the Crown, I would not have brought this to you in the first place.”
Keegain took a sip of brandy to cover the effort it took to get his emotions under control. “Of course, you can count on me.” He managed a small smile and a shrug. “I am English, am I not? I am sworn to the Crown, to protect King and Country. It is only….” He turned pleading eyes to the older man. “I simply cannot credit so heinous a plot is afoot. There was no sign, no…” he searched Ely for some reprieve. “Is it not possible you are mistaken?”
The grandfatherly expression returned to the old man’s face. “No matter how hard you may wish it, I am not mistaken.”
“But… why here? I’m not exactly on the route to London, we are days from there.”
“You say you are remote, but others may say you are far from prying eyes. Additionally, you are holding a masquerade ball, by its very nature, an invitation to deception and intrigue.”
It felt like an accusation though he knew it was not. Lord Keegain cleared his throat. “I never meant it to be so.”
“I know, but perhaps it is for the best, eh?” The duke smiled and winked. “We can catch the traitorous bastards.” His fist clenched in the air, as if already grasping the villains.
Keegain smiled politely and returned to the window, finding himself too keyed up to sit again. The clouds looked as if they held the promise of snow. Ely sat quietly next to Keegain. Apparently Keegain’s doubt was forgiven. The Duke of Ely, was not a man to be questioned. Keegain had known the man for years.
Ely had argued in the House of Lords for caution, had used his own wealth to bolster that of the Regent’s when the costs of fighting two wars at once began to bleed the coffers. But now, to suggest that the little dictator was getting money funneled to him from Britain, worse, from a member of the Peerage. Keegain did not want to credit it. Highwaymen he understood. A man might steal to feed his family or for greed, but to become traitor to one’s own country left a sour taste in
Keegain’s mouth.
He shuddered. No, not from the cold, from the raw deception of such a plot. From the fact that those he loved would have to be placed in danger before he and the duke and the King’s men could put a stop to it.
Napoleon had turned his eyes to England. They had expected as much. What was beyond the belief of any rational Englishman was that there were those who waited to welcome him with open arms. And they did not wait idly. They sent gold bullion to aid in the madman’s butchery. And how they got that gold…that was the thought that made his bones ache from a cold deeper than any storm cloud.
“Do not fret, my young friend,” The duke spoke lightly, his voice strong and sure in its confidence. “We’ll catch the brutes!”
Keegain nodded and finished his brandy, but it left a bitter taste behind.
15
Jane had spent a fitful night and although she awoke early she remembered that Lady Margret was returned, and she did not want to accidentally encounter the lady. Jane moaned, fluffed her pillow and buried her face in it. She did not even wish to rise to go down for tea in the kitchen. No matter how she had felt like a member of the family, the truth was, she was not.
She closed her eyes and willed herself to go back to sleep. It must have worked because some time later she heard a faint knocking in the distance, and dismissed it. She remained in dreamland until the sun was streaming through her window. She had not drawn the draperies last night. She was surprised that Lady Charlotte had not come for her. Surely it was after ten. When she lay in bed as long as she could, Jane rang for tea.
While she was dressing for the day, Jacqueline informed her that the ladies were awaiting her in the sitting room. Jane steeled herself for another encounter with Lady Margret. She could not avoid the woman. Margret was soon to be the lady of the house.
Jane braced herself and thanked Jacqueline for her help and direction as the maid opened the door to the sitting room. Jane peered into the room and breathed a sigh of relief. She saw just the ladies she wanted to see: the Lady Battonsbury, Lady Patience and Lady Amelia as well as the Dowager Lady Keegain and young Lady Alice.
Winning Lady Jane: A Christmas Regency Romance (Ladies of Bath Book 0) Page 9