The Lord of Heartbreak (Reluctant Regency Brides Book 2)

by Claudia Stone

  James felt a stab of pride at this comment, which was faintly ridiculous as Jane wasn't actually intending to wed herself to him, so he could not really take any pride in her having chosen him.

  "And what a coincidence that she knew Alastair," Dalton continued blithely, unaware of the interest that James had in that particular name.

  "Alastair Jackson, the entomologist?" James tried to keep his voice casual, when really he wanted to take Dalton by the shoulders and shake every last piece of information about the bugger out of him.

  "Yes, do you know him as well?"

  "No," James shook his head and patted Inglot, who had begun to fuss, on the neck to soothe him. "Though I've read much of his work, I'm fascinated by the subject."

  "Really?" Dalton raised a bemused eyebrow. "I can't say I feel the same way. Will you be attending his lecture this afternoon? He sent me an invitation, though I can't make it—prior engagements, I'm afraid."

  "I hadn't heard he was giving one," James replied slowly, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. A lecture would be the perfect place to observe this Mr Jackson and see what his competition looked like.

  "Lesser known larvae and where to find them, or something along those lines," Dalton supplied and helpfully gave James the time and address where it was to be held. With a few short words of goodbye the men parted ways and James guided Inglot in the direction of his Mayfair home, so that he could change and then go and see what all the fuss was about Alastair Jackson.

  The room in Bloomsbury where Jackson was holding his lecture rather reminded James of the schoolrooms in Eton. Rows of seats faced a dusty chalkboard and as he quietly snuck in, a few minutes after the lecture had begun, he had an overwhelming sense of dejavous. He had always been late for lessons when he was a schoolboy—too busy on the rugby pitch— which had earned him more than one lashing. Silently James took a seat in the back row, scanning the room for Jane. He spotted her at the front, resplendent in a dress of forest green, which made her brown hair appear almost auburn. Beside her, wearing the most ridiculous straw bonnet that obscured half the room's view of the chalkboard was Jane's companion, Belinda.

  The room was packed with solemn men, who were studiously taking notes of what the speaker was saying. James had been so transfixed by the sight of Jane, that he had momentarily forgotten why he was there.

  So you're my competition, he thought sourly as he gave Alastair Jackson the once over. He was a tall man, painfully thin with a long, serious face and glasses perched on the end of his equally long nose. His clothes were dowdy and his voice, when he spoke, had a slight nasally whine. James despised him on the spot. He was exactly the type of pompous git that had picked on him at Eton for being more inclined toward sports than academics; true, once he had grown a few inches in his final years he had had his revenge, but the insults still rankled.

  "The most fascinating aspect of the spotted, jungle larvae is how they copulate," Jackson said as James turned his attention to him, rushing over to an easel in the corner of the room, where he placed a large diagram of what Lord Payne presumed were two copulating larvae. James felt his stomach heave slightly at the sight, though his fellow students began to murmur with excitement and scribble furiously on the pages before them.

  "The females then go on to lay their eggs on a host plant, as you can see." Jackson replaced the diagram of the copulating larvae with a less offensive diagram of small, oval eggs and James heaved a sigh of relief. If this was as romantic as Jane's entomologist got, then there wasn't much in the way of competition. He stole a glance at his fiance, certain that her face would be green with nausea but instead he saw that she was radiant, leaning excitedly forward with her elbows on the table before her.

  Oh.

  He felt a stab of acute jealousy; he had never known Jane to seem in anyway excited in his company. She usually wore an expression that indicated she was exercising every ounce of patience she possessed to simply be in his presence. He refrained from heaving a self piteous sigh and instead concentrated on the rest of Jackson's lecture which, much to his delight, included a short retelling of the poisonous bite he had received in South America and the three toes that he had to have amputated as a result.

  "Bravo,' James called loudly and clapped as the fussy academic finally finished speaking. A multitude of heads turned in his direction, scandalised by the outburst, Jane's included. Her face wore a look of what could only be described as abject horror at his presence. James felt himself bristle under her censure; he was her betrothed, he had every right to be there. It was his duty to protect her and a room full of men was hardly the safest place for two young women to be seen alone. Self righteousness filled him at her reaction and every ounce of sense he might have possessed left him as a result.

  The crowd began to trickle out of the room, a few men staying to speak with Mr Jackson whose chest was puffed out, filled with importance. James made his way to the front of the room, to Jane, who seemed to be waiting for everyone to leave before she approached her old paramour.

  "What are you doing here?" she hissed crossly, whilst Miss Bowstock gave him a cheery wave.

  "Indulging my long held secret passion for larvae," James retorted, equally as irritable as his fiance. "And you? What are you doing out unescorted? It's unseemly for a lady of your rank to attend such events with only Miss Bowstock to accompany you."

  He hadn't meant to sound so grumpy and high-handed, but he had ended up doing so despite his best intentions. He saw Jane visibly bristle at his tone, but before he could feel any remorse he spotted Jackson making his way toward them and instead became filled with rage.

  "Jane," Jackson said in his nasally tone, "I'm so glad that you came —and you brought friends I see."

  Mr Jackson looked pointedly at James and Miss Bowstock, waiting for Jane to introduce them.

  "Pleased to meet you, old fellow," James stuck his hand out to take Jackson's in a bone crushing grip, " I am Lord Payne, Jane's betrothed."

  "Ah," two bushy eyebrows were raised to heaven in disbelief.

  "And this is my companion Miss Belinda Bowstock," Jane interjected, flashing James a warning glance. "It is so lovely to see you again Alastair, after all this time. I am so looking forward to hear of your adventures."

  "We both are," James stated, entwining his hand with Jane's. It was with some relief that he noted that she did not yank it away in outrage, humiliating him there and then, though she did squeeze his fingers in a vice-like grip that he was certain would bruise tomorrow.

  "Well," Alastair cleared his throat awkwardly, "This is a turn up for the books. I had not realised that you were engaged Jane—and to such a man as Lord Payne. You must feel honoured."

  "It is I who is honoured," James corrected him, thinking it was a strange way for Jackson to address the woman he supposedly loved. Jackson should have been threatening James with all kinds of violence for stealing his sweetheart away, but instead he was praising James at the expense of Jane. It was rather bewildering.

  "Yes," Jackson cleared his throat again, "It has been wonderful to see you Jane. We must speak again soon. If you'll excuse me, I am expected elsewhere."

  The entomologist hurried from the room, leaving his lecture notes and diagrams behind. James was prone to believe that the elsewhere that Jackson was expected to be was entirely fictitious, though he did not have the opportunity to share this opinion with Jane before she rounded on him angrily.

  "What on earth was that?" she questioned, prodding him sharply in the chest with the finger of the hand that she had pulled from his grip.

  "What was what?" James huffed. Miss Bowstock mercifully realised that she was caught in the middle of a lover's quarrel and had wandered over to the easel to inspect the hideous diagrams at close quarters with feigned, if exaggerated, interest.

  "Don't play stupid with me," Jane hissed. She was truly angry, her cheeks flushed with annoyance, her mouth full and pouting. James knew it wasn't the appropriate time to say it, but he had never
seen her look so beautiful.

  "You went out of your way to ruin my reunion with Alastair," she continued, "And I can only assume that it's because you want this ridiculous false engagement to go on for as long as suits you. Well, I won't stand to be treated like that Lord Payne. I have enough people in my life who bully me for their own amusement, I won't stand it from you too."

  Jane lifted the hem of her skirts and beckoned for Belinda to follow her, before stalking out the door with her nose stuck in the air. Her blonde haired companion gave James and apologetic smile from under her ridiculous straw bonnet and hastily scurried out after her mistress. James stayed rooted to the spot, guilt flooding his veins and rendering him paralysed. Was he really treating Jane in the same manner as her brother and the awful Viscountess? He knew that his manner had been sparked by a possessiveness and jealousy, though Jane who was not privy to such information, thought him simply selfish, another character in her life who used her for their own self serving whims.

  Oh dear, he thought, donning his hat and taking his leave of the shabby brownstone house. Inglot was tethered to the railings of the small square opposite, patiently waiting for his master to return. Once in the saddle, James suddenly decided that he would not return to his own rooms, to wallow in self pity, but instead would visit with someone whose advice he could use.

  "For goodness sake, whatever you do, don't tell mother."

  Lady Caroline did not look up from the canvas that she was sloshing liberally with paint as she spoke to her brother, seemingly absorbed by her rather dubious artistic creation.

  "I know you think me an idiot, Caro," James huffed, feeling like a twelve-year old boy in his sister's presence, as he always did, "But please credit me with some modicum of sense."

  "I don't think you an idiot," Caroline finally turned to look at him, her eyes soft with affection. "Though I do wish you would think before you acted —it would save you an awful lot of bother. Come, sit down and tell me everything."

  James took a seat on the overstuffed chaise which dominated the sun-room that his sister used as a studio and, over steaming cups of spiced tea, told her everything. How he had bribed Jane into agreeing to be his fake fiance, how he had wanted to save her from an uncertain future at the hands of her sister in law and, finally, how he had come to realise that Jane was, in fact, the only woman he could imagine spending his life with.

  "Well that's a relief," Caroline heaved a sigh, as his sorry tale came to an end.

  "How so?" James questioned, placing his delicate china cup on the table.

  "Well," Caroline gave a graceful shrug, her green silk kimono rippling like the sea. "It was patently obvious to all of us that you had coerced Miss Deveraux into agreeing to marry you, but what none of us could figure out was how."

  "And who is us?" James asked, slightly affronted that his master plan had been picked apart so easily.

  "Well Father, obviously," Caroline answered, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. James could see that she was trying to suppress a smug grin, for which he was grateful. His battered pride couldn't possibly take another beating. "Giles hazarded a guess after your engagement dinner and Mother —bless her soul— hasn't confessed to anyone that she thinks it's all a ruse, but it's obvious that she does."

  "How do you know?"

  "Because she's like a woman with a bee in her bonnet, trying to organise the wedding before either of you get a chance to back out. She keeps referring to poor Jane as The Horse Most Likely to Bolt —I think she's forgotten her actual name. You can't blame her, she's just so excited that you've finally brought someone respectable home."

  "Oh," James was flummoxed by this information, taken aback by all that Caroline knew. Older sisters were sources of infinite, innate wisdom; the type of wisdom that men could only aspire to a fraction of.

  "And now here you are," Caroline finished, "Hoisted by your own petard."

  "In boxing they say every man has a plan until he gets punched in the face," James offered, more comfortable with sporting analogies.

  "So your nose has been broken by love, little brother, whatever shall we do?" Caroline mused, silent for a few moments as she contemplated her brother's fate.

  "All I want is for Jane to be happy, no matter what happens," James said firmly, the guilt at how he had treated her earlier still niggling at his conscience. "Even if it means that she ends up with Jackson, rather than me."

  "How noble," Caroline quirked an eyebrow, "You must be in love if you'd put her happiness before her own."

  "Well, I am a man Caro," James blushed, "I want to win her hand, but I want to know that I've won it completely —and I know I'm not the most objective observer, but..."

  "But what?"

  "There's just something that doesn't sit right with me about that Jackson fellow," James grumbled, slightly shamefaced. The man had outright insulted Jane before and yet she had not seemed to mind; perhaps years of suffering at her brother's dismissive hand had inured her to insults. The two siblings fell into thoughtful silence, the only sound in the room being the gentle tattoo of summer rain on the glass roof.

  "Leave it to me, James dear," Caroline finally said, "I shall figure out a way for you to win dear Jane's heart."

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  "I don't see why you had to bring that silly nitwit with you," Emily hissed to Jane as they traipsed up the sweeping steps of Hawkfield Manor. She was referring to Belinda, who tailed the trio of Julian, Emily and Jane as they walked to the door, her mouth open in wonder at the splendour of the house. Jane did not blame her for being impressed; Hawkfield manor was a huge, imposing building; she had counted fifteen bay windows as the carriage had rounded the drive, before giving up completely.

  "You were the one who insisted that I needed a companion," Jane whispered back, in annoyance "You can't complain that she's here, when it's entirely your own doing. Besides, Belinda will keep me company for the weekend, leaving you and Julian to do as you please."

  The quartet had been invited by the Duke and Duchess of Hawkfield for a weekend house-party at Hawkfield Manor, their sprawling estate in Sussex. Jane had initially been loathe to go, fearing that it was all a ruse and that she would find herself frog-marched down the aisle of a chapel by the Duchess, but Caroline had assured her that would not be the case.

  "It's a chance for everyone to relax for a few days, away from the stuffiness of London. Giles has invited some friends; Harry Dalton and a man he travelled with from South America, whose name I can't recall. He studies something funny, insects, I think —but I'm sure he's nice if he's friends with Harry."

  Jane had immediately guessed that who Lady Caroline was speaking of was Alastair. Instantly her attitude to the party changed and she had travelled down from London, buoyant at the the thought of perhaps having some alone time with him. She hoped that the Duchess would not try to engineer any alone time between her and Lord Payne, however. Their limited interactions since the disastrous encounter at Alastair's lecture had been strained; though Lord Payne had tried to redeem himself by being overly solicitous and treating her as though she were made of glass. The way that he had acted before, however, still hurt slightly. Jane had always found Lord Payne's company uplifting, he was quick with a compliment and despite his rakish reputation had always treated her with the utmost kindness. She supposed that what he possessed was an inherent sense of chivalry towards every woman, regardless of her status as a beauty.

  Lady Caroline and Giles Bastion were there to greet them, the former engulfing Jane in a warm embrace as she said hello.

  "How was the journey?" Caroline enquired solicitously, as she led the way into the vast entrance hall of the house. Even Emily was open mouthed with wonder as the group took in the sheer grandeur of the vast hall. The ceiling appeared to be miles above their heads, supported by a dozen white marble columns which led the way to a sweeping, bifurcated staircase.

  "Arduous," Emily complained, her face slightly green. Jane cast her sister in law a worr
ied glance, she had been quiet for the whole of the journey down, not even bothering to be snide when the opportunity arose, and now that she could see her properly she saw that the Viscountess looked quite shaken after all the travel.

  "I shall have Mrs Hughes take you directly to your room, you poor thing," Caroline said gamely and directed the rotund housekeeper to take Lord and Lady Jarvis upstairs.

  "Mother and Father will likely arrive by the evening," Caroline continued, once she was alone with Jane and Belinda, "And James should arrive shortly. He decided to ride down with the Marquess - he does hate to be confined for too long."

  "The Marquess?" Jane asked politely, wishing that Caroline would tell her if Alastair had arrived yet.

  "Of Falconbridge," Caroline smiled, "Lord Delaney has been friends with James for eons. It's wonderful that he's agreed to take his head out of his books for a weekend —he's one of the only men who can beat James at a game of cricket."

  Unlike Jane, Caroline had not noticed the change that came over Belinda at the mention of Lord Delaney's name. The girl had managed to both blush and turn a ghostly shade of white at the same time, it was quite a remarkable feat. The memory of Belinda having fleetingly mentioned an encounter with the Marquess after her lecture, came to Jane. In all the excitement and confusion of her sudden engagement to Lord Payne she had completely forgotten about it; though seeing Belinda pluck at her dress with a nervous agitation, made Jane resolve to find out what exactly had happened between the two.

  "Oh, look," Giles, who unlike his wife was a man of few words, spoke for the first time, startling Jane. He was such a quiet man that she had almost forgotten that he was there. "Here comes James now."