Scandal's Deception

by Pamela Gibson

  Jane frowned and nodded, wishing Ralston would remain. He was her lifeline. She relied on him, and he was also right. She was exhausted and would ask for a tray in her room and the services of Mary for the night.

  “I will return and take you back to Painswick if you say the word. If instead you decide to go through with this scheme, I promise to remain by your side at the ball as unobtrusively as possible to assist you if there should be a problem. I am sure your mother will do so as well.”

  He bowed and exited the room, leaving her with the two women who stared at her now, as if she stood naked before them.

  Her mother folded her arms in front of her. “Does your expression always give away your feelings? If so, you need to learn to set your mouth in a faint smile and keep it there. Right now I can tell you wish you had something in your hand to throw against the wall, something that would make a satisfying crash.”

  Jane’s eyes widened. However did she know? Were her feelings that transparent? She turned around and strode from the room, pausing at the entrance to the maid’s chamber. “I should say I am happy to finally meet both of you, but that would be a lie. I wish I were home on my farm, surrounded by my animals, with the fresh smell of baking bread wafting from the kitchen. Please order me a tray. Lord Ralston is correct. I am famished, and I cannot think, let alone give you an answer tonight.”

  With her parting comment hanging in the air, she strode from the room, closing the door behind her once she reached her own chamber.

  God help me, what am I to do?

  She flopped on the bed, shoes and all, not caring if she got dirt on the coverlet.

  She couldn’t believe she’d actually longed for this meeting. Now that she’d had it, she couldn’t sort out her feelings. The woman who had given her life was a complete disappointment so far. She had decent manners and spoke well, but her coldness could freeze a fish without ice.

  As for her sister, she didn’t know what to think. Even with spots, Jocelyn did look the same as herself. Jane didn’t know her height or girth as she hadn’t emerged from the bed. She seemed whiney. Hives did that to you. Jane knew how miserable it was, having experienced the same malady.

  A knock on the door brought Mary in. “Here you are, milady. I brought your tray. I’ll set it here on this table in front of the fire. There’s a glass of madeira, and when you finish, I’ll bring a hot cup of tea.”

  The food drew her. Jane sat up and dangled her feet over the bed, sliding to the floor. Mary wandered into the adjoining dressing room and came back frowning. “Your clothes are put away. Did someone else do that for you?”

  “It appears I am to use my sister Jocelyn’s maid, at least for the next two days.”

  “We’re staying here with your mum then?”

  “I haven’t decided yet.” She sat in the chair nearest the food and grabbed a roll, eating the whole thing in less than four bites. Thin slices of ham sat on some sort of flat bread with a thick slice of cheese. Jane ate everything on her plate and felt immensely better. “Did you dine in the servants’ hall?”

  “Cold collation, same as you. The servants’ hall is quite grand—more so than at Lady Amelia’s home. The entire staff seem to be excited about a grand ball in two days’ time. I saw crates of delicacies stacked in a cold room, and I’m told extra help has been hired.”

  “The ball, yes. But Lady Jocelyn is ill.”

  “What? Everyone was told her rash was a temporary affliction and she’s right as rain.”

  “No, it’s hives, and I suspect it will be a few days yet. The spots appear quite angry.”

  Mary shook her head. “I am so sorry to hear it. You would have been introduced to society at last. Were you disappointed, milady?”

  “No.” She was still hungry and thought it bad form to lick the crumbs from the plate. “Might I have my tea now? And maybe a few biscuits if you can find them in the kitchen. And Mary, say nothing about Lady Jocelyn’s condition. The ball may very well go on without the guest of honor.”

  “Of course.” The maid drooped and walked with a heavy tread as she left the room, taking the empty tray and dirty plates with her. She’d been curt with the maid, and that was not like her. Mary knew Lady Siltsbury was her birth mother and she had a twin. She’d also been told before they arrived not to say anything to the other servants. If anyone inquired, Jane was a guest who was in mourning and had been offered complete privacy by Lady Siltsbury.

  Jane kicked off her shoes and wished she’d asked Mary to help her remove her old gown before she left. Glad she’d worn a pair of thick stockings, she wandered about the room. The appointments were far more lavish than her furnishings at home. She peeked behind a screen and found a copper tub which was probably placed in front of the grate when in use.

  A cut-glass bottle with a stopper sat on a table. Jane removed the closure from the bottle and sniffed. An unusual scent—something exotic. She set the bottle down and continued her perusal, examining a silver-backed brush with the letter S etched into it. On the wall above the armoire was a painting of nymphs frolicking in a pond. Two other paintings adorned the walls. Both bucolic scenes of the countryside.

  She turned at the slight knock. Mary entered with a tray of refreshments.

  “Is there aught else I can do for you, milady?”

  “If you could undo these buttons in the back, I believe I’ll take my tea in my nightrail and dressing gown.”

  “Very well.” She entered the dressing room and emerged with the garments. After helping Jane out of her gown and corset, she assisted her into her nightwear.

  “Where will you be if I need you?”

  “There is this newfangled contraption belowstairs with bells. Each bell is marked with the name of a room.” She peeked into corners until she found a long, braided rope hanging from the ceiling. “Tug on that, and I’ll know it’s you.”

  “That’s amazing.” Jane hastened over and ran her palm beneath the tasseled end.

  “I’ve been assigned a room on the floor with other maids and will be told I’m needed if I am not belowstairs when you ring.”

  “I daresay I shall sleep the morning away.”

  “Good night, milady.”

  “Mary. I spoke sharply to you earlier. I am sorry. All of this is overwhelming, and I fear I am acting like a snapping turtle.”

  Her eyes widened. “One does not apologize to a servant, milady. I forget sometimes you were raised in a much different society.” She smiled. “Apology accepted.” She exited the room and closed the door softly.

  Jane sat by the grate, immensely more comfortable, and sipped her tea. Nibbling on a biscuit, she thought about the woman in the next chamber. She owed her sister nothing. They may share blood, but they were as different as two roses on the same bush.

  She would not have anything to do with this nonsense. If a duke’s son intended to ask for her hand, he could bloody well wait a few weeks to do it. The visage of her guardian came to mind, along with a tiny flutter in her belly.

  She’d never imagined herself married. Papa had ingrained in her a love of words, of knowledge, and she’d planned to take care of him in the years to come. She’d enjoyed running the farm. She’d also loved discovering new concepts and engaging in discussions with her father. He’d treated her much like a man treats a son, not relegating her only to household duties like most of the women of her acquaintance. She hated idleness, and that was what she saw all around her in the class she was born into—boredom and frivolity.

  After swallowing the rest of her tea, she stood, stretched, and examined the bed. It appeared comfortable, although she was sure she could sleep on a pallet at this point. She blew out the candle next to her, but the day’s revelations and emotions flitted restlessly through her brain. When she finally closed her eyes, fearful sounds made her sit up and strain to hear.


  Leaving the bed, she tiptoed toward the sounds. They came from her sister’s room. Was Jocelyn all right? She opened the door and followed the candlelight through the antechamber into her sister’s room. A wail came from the bed as she approached.

  Good Lord, what has happened?

  She rushed into the room.

  Chapter 24

  Her sister was sobbing, loud, deep cries that bespoke of a dreadful anguish. They ripped through Jane’s heart. She’d never abandon an animal in pain, and her nature would not allow her to tiptoe back to her room when another human was crying. At least, not until she discovered the cause.

  Not wanting to startle her sister, Jane remained in the doorway and quietly called out, “Lady Jocelyn? Do you wish me to summon your maid or our mother?”

  A hiccup followed a sob. “No. Go away. Nothing helps.”

  Jane ventured slowly into the room and sat in the chair next to her sister. “Would you like me to freshen your compress?”

  She sniffed and handed Jane the rag. “Doesn’t help. These welts itch so much I want to scratch them until I bleed. I know I cannot.”

  “What have you been given for them?”

  “A cloth soaked in some concoction Mama devised. Mama would not visit the apothecary shop. She doesn’t want anyone to know I am ill. My old nanny, who is now a kitchen maid, told her what to do.”

  “Is that why you’re crying? The itching?”

  “No.” She turned on her side and faced away. Her shoulders still shook with her sobs.

  Jane sat on the side of the bed. Her words might not comfort, but she had to try. “When I was growing up, I had no mother. I had a housekeeper who taught me how to get on in the world. She once told me a burden shared is a burden lightened. I know you and I just met, but I am willing to listen, and while I probably can’t help, you might feel better with the unburdening.”

  Jocelyn stopped crying and turned back to face her twin. Even though darkness hid her expression, Jane sensed her interest.

  “Actually, you are the only one who can help.”

  Jane sighed and leaned closer. She could guess what was coming and steeled herself for the onslaught of feelings the request was sure to engage.

  “I fell in love with Aubrey the moment I saw him. He was a golden god sitting atop a black horse in Rotten Row. As our conveyance passed, he doffed his hat and smiled at me. I was eighteen and unused to gentlemen, having been raised by a strict governess. When I had my come out that year, he sent me a bouquet of expensive roses, and when the patronesses of Almack’s gave me permission to waltz, he was the first one to request a dance.”

  Not knowing what to say, Jane listened, wondering if her sister had been as lonely for a friend as she had been. She’d had Maddie, but no one her own age she’d been close to.

  Jocelyn sniffed. “Lately, he’s been giving me special attention at balls. Taking me into supper on one occasion. Dancing twice on two others.”

  “Is that significant? I didn’t attend balls in America. I have no knowledge of courtship practices.”

  “It is almost akin to an announcement that I am ‘the one,’ and it is a miracle. Mama is not in the highest circles of society. Lately we have been invited to more important social events of the Season. She thinks it’s because of Aubrey’s attention.” She paused, and Jane wondered if she’d tired and gone to sleep. A movement of the coverlet told Jane she had not. “Please, Jane. I know we’ve just been introduced, but I feel a strange kinship, like we’ve known each other longer. Do not ask me to explain it. Can you not do this one thing for me? It’s one night. One ball. It means everything to me.”

  Her heart dropped, and she caught her breath. “Wouldn’t your Aubrey know the difference?”

  “Mama says Lord Ralston and his aunt have been instructing you in the ways of the ton. So you know a ball is very public. Opportunities for private discussions are rare and brief. If he proposes, as I am positive he will, it will require all of ten minutes, and then you must return to the public room so there will not be gossip. He knows Mama is in favor. She’s dropped broad hints. If I—or you in this case—accept the proposal, he will call on Ralston when he returns from his trip, to work out the terms of the marriage settlement. I can have a summer wedding.”

  While Jane was skeptical, she wasn’t a monster. If it meant so much to her twin that she was willing to gamble on a stranger’s success at impersonation, perhaps she should agree. A few hours. She could do this.

  “What would I have to do at this ball?”

  “You’ll do it?” Jocelyn’s excitement was made more palpable in the darkness.

  “I haven’t agreed yet.”

  Jocelyn sighed, and the bed squeaked as she tried to sit up. “Greet people as they come in. Mama will be right there. Smile, nod, curtsy. You can plead nervousness if someone remarks on your lack of conversation. I am not a chatterbox. ’Twill not be noticed. You will be on your feet. Trust me. You will not lack dancing partners. When people leave, you can sneak in here and give me the news.”

  “It won’t work. What if I forget proper address? What if I forget the steps to a dance?”

  “You won’t. I’m known to not make conversation while dancing. I often look at my feet, so I don’t tread on toes. You can do the same if you are unsure of the steps.”

  “Do we really look enough alike? I’ve only seen you with spots.”

  “No one knows about you. If any of the matrons knew about our birth, they’ve long forgotten it.” She paused. “I never heard of you until the welts broke out. Mama told me our father had passed. I was aware he lived in America and Mama lived here. Nothing else.”

  “You had more details than I did.”

  She paused and seemed to come closer. “I always wanted a sister, and when I learned I had one, I was astonished. I grew excited, especially when Mama said you would live with us. I was cross earlier. I hate having people look at me with these horrid welts. I know this sounds odd, but the minute you walked into the room it was like the sun came out from behind a cloud. I-I knew all would be well, and after the ball, we shall have such a good time. I can hardly wait to learn about your life.”

  “And I about yours.”

  “Jane. Please consider doing this. We have all of tomorrow for you to quiz me and listen to how I speak. Until this infernal itching subsides and these ugly blotches disappear, I am stranded. You can do this. It is wrong of me to ask, I know. Becoming Aubrey’s wife, and one day the Duchess of Gresham, is a dream beyond words.”

  Jane couldn’t see her sister’s face in the dark, but she recalled her own expression when pleading.

  “Get some sleep. I promise to give you my answer tomorrow morning. And no more crying. The emotion will make you itch more. I know not what mixture is on your compress. I might be able to find herbs that will help. I’ve suffered a similar affliction.”

  “Thank you. I do not know you yet, but I believe I like you already.”

  Jane rose and padded back to her room. Her feet were cold, and she pulled her wrapper closer around her. She blew out the candle and climbed into the huge bed. Had this been Papa’s room? It seemed more masculine in its appointments than Jocelyn’s.

  Maddie, how I wish you were here to advise me.

  Should she participate in this charade? She felt sorry for her twin. What happenstance of fate had made her break out so close to her birthday ball? Incessant worry, certain foods, an insect sting? Jane recalled her one encounter with strawberries and shuddered at the memory.

  One night. Four or five hours. What could it hurt? If she was careful, she could manage. The big question was the possible proposal. Her twin seemed so sure it would take place, even though Ralston hadn’t been approached and appeared to find it odd.

  Women in society followed so many rules she was sure there would be no sur
prises. Jocelyn had been raised a lady and would have been supervised and sheltered to a finite degree. If her own experience here was any measure, ladies who had not reached their majority had serious restrictions on their activities.

  Jocelyn’s voice sounded much like her own. Her emphasis on certain words was different. She’d have to listen carefully and practice the accent she was already starting to adopt, her ear hearing how people around her spoke. Jocelyn would have to get out of bed and walk about, so Jane would be sure to mimic her gait.

  This charade would make her sister happy. The girl seemed to be in love. Jane sighed as she thought about how absorbing that feeling must be, like having the bottom drop from your stomach when the special person came into sight.

  She’d had the flutter of wings in her abdomen herself, only her infatuation would never be requited. Gilbert Carmichael, Lord Ralston, was a stickler for convention, and when he’d lost control—twice—he seemed to regret it. Would she ever have the kind of love Jocelyn would experience? She thought not.

  But a girl could dream.

  Restless, she turned over in bed and tried to imagine kisses from the only man who stirred her, the one who’d been the only one to ever kiss her, even though it had been in the name of instruction.

  Not the second time.

  That day on the cliff, when she almost fell over the edge, she’d experienced more than just a flutter. For the first time in her life, she’d experienced lust. Would she ever feel it again for another? Her guardian had made it perfectly clear there was to be no further “instruction” regarding rogues and their behavior. She was on her own.

  Muffled sobs no longer came from the other room. Jane snuggled deep into her covers and allowed herself to dream about a life she wouldn’t have, one where she awakened each morning in the arms of the man she adored. The day would proceed with commentary about items in his morning newspaper over breakfast, followed by a ride through verdant meadows, with maybe a picnic by a lake. Perhaps in the evening they’d attend a ball and come home to a warm fire where they’d laugh and enjoy each other’s company.