This time, however, Jane was truly worried that Cass would end up with the bruises from this particular charade. The potential for the outcome to devastate Cass was great, something Jane doubted that Lucy had considered when she’d come up with the scheme.
Regardless, all Jane could do at this point was help, hence her visit to Upton’s lair. She had been charged with convincing Upton to either stay away or play along and she intended to accomplish her mission, one way or another.
She strode over to the wall and pulled her spectacles down her nose to get a better look at one of the portraits. Hmm. Upton. Around age twenty, she would guess. A handsome chap, she had to admit, for all that he usually drove her mad. She turned away. The last thing she wanted was to think about Upton’s looks.
She took a seat on the settee in the center of the room, pulled her book from her reticule, and settled down to read. The joke was on Upton if he intended to make her anxious while she waited. As long as she had a book—and she always had a book—she didn’t much mind where she was.
Her wait was not to be long, however. In the span of five minutes, Upton came strolling through the doors, his hands in his pockets, whistling as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Too bad, he might be a charming chap if he wasn’t so … Upton.
She glanced up and snapped the book shut.
His trademark nonchalant smile rested on his face. “Ah, Miss Lowndes, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
Jane gave him a long-suffering stare. “The pleasure? Really?”
He shrugged. “Would you rather I be rude?”
Jane eyed him carefully. Upton made her grit her teeth. The man was too confident by half and loved nothing better than to tease her about her bluestocking tendencies and her love of reading. In turn, she loved nothing better than to make fun of his penchant for gambling and drinking and being a general profligate scoundrel. But staring at him now, even she had to admit the picture hadn’t lied. He was a good-looking man, about six feet tall, square shoulders, mahogany-brown slightly curly hair, hazel eyes that turned to dark green when he was worked up over something. Yes, Upton was handsome, which made dealing with him all that much more frustrating. Oh, ick. That was two thoughts about Upton’s looks in one day. She shook her head.
“I’d rather you be honest,” she retorted.
He gave her his own long-suffering stare, one that he’d no doubt perfected in her company over the years. “Let’s cut to the chase, shall we, Miss Lowndes?”
She raised her chin. “By all means.”
“Fine, then, I’ll save you some time.”
“Please do, Upton, I’m quite busy today.”
He smirked at her. “Busy ripping gentlemen to shreds with your barbs or simply busy reading and educating yourself far beyond the boundaries of propriety?”
“Oh, both, Upton. I have a full day planned. Of course, you wouldn’t know a thing about the joy of reading, having never finished a book in your life, but I assure you, it’s every bit as taxing as gambling, drinking, and chasing ladies of ill repute. Just in an entirely different way.”
He gave her a slight mock bow. “Ah, off to a fine start shredding gentlemen with your tongue. Well done. It’s not even noon. But I must ask, how exactly do you know so much about gambling, drinking, and chasing ladies of ill repute?”
Her smile did not falter. “I read. A lot.”
They glared at each other.
“My dear Miss Lowndes,” he finally choked out. “I believe you are here because I have become aware that you, my cousin Lucy, and our good friend Cassandra are even now ensconced at Upbridge Hall at a questionable house party where Lucy and Cass are pretending to be people they are not.”
Jane opened her mouth to retort. Upton held up a hand to stop her. “Allow me to finish, please.”
She snapped her mouth shut.
“Not only are you doing that, but you’ve involved my friend Lord Berkeley in your scandalous behavior.”
She opened her mouth again.
Garrett wagged a finger. “I’m not finished.”
She shut her mouth.
“And finally, I happen to know that this entire scheme is one that is extremely ill-advised. Do you care to know how I know that?”
More glaring from Jane. She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her slipper along the rug. “Oh, do tell. I’m on tenterhooks.” She managed a fake yawn.
He continued undaunted. “Because first, you did not invite me, which means you did not want me to know about it. If you did not want me to know about it, it is because you’re all doing something you should not be doing and knew I would not play along.”
He paused to solicit her reaction. She merely shrugged. It would be a frigid day in Hades before she gave Upton the satisfaction of knowing he was right. About anything.
“Secondly,” he continued. “Lucy and Cassandra are using assumed names, and while I admire Lucy’s vivid imagination and flair for the dramatic, I can only imagine what sort of nonsense involves false names.”
Jane merely rolled her eyes this time.
“Thirdly, without exactly coming out and saying as much, Lucy has intimated to me that she may or may not be with child. Lucy’s never not just come out and said anything in her life. If she’s being subtle, it’s not true, and if it’s not true, I must ask myself why she wants me to believe it’s true.”
Jane pressed her lips together and blinked at him. She had heard of people playing cards and keeping their faces completely blank in an effort to keep their opponent from guessing at their hand. She had tried it with Lady Hoppington upon occasion during one of that matron’s infamous rounds of whist. But she’d never been quite certain if it had worked. At the moment, however, Jane so hoped she was doing an admirable job of keeping her hand secret.
“Finally,” Upton continued. “You have arrived upon my doorstep. And seeing as how you’d rather be boiled in oil like one of the martyrs than voluntarily seek out my company, I can only assume you have been sent by Lucy to ensure my compliance with your charade or to ask that I stay away.” He flashed a grin at her. “Am I right?”
Jane had whisked off her gloves to contemplate her fingernails. “Oh, are you finished? I’d stopped paying attention quite a while ago.” She smiled at him tightly.
“I’m finished. Now, answer my question.”
Confound it. Upton was too wise by half. The man knew exactly what they were up to. He’d been Lucy’s cousin and close friend her entire life; no doubt nothing she did surprised him. Blast Cass for sending her on this doomed mission.
Jane took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “It is true that Lucy is hosting a house party at Upbridge Hall and that Berkeley has been invited.”
Upton paced around her, making her bristle. He was too close. She could smell his cologne and it smelled … not unpleasant.
“What I cannot figure out,” he said, “is why you’re doing it. Why would you say Cass is someone named Patience Bunbury and Lucy is Lady Worthing?”
Jane turned and stared him straight in the eye. “You got one thing wrong, Upton. I am also pretending to be someone I’m not. Miss Wollstonecraft.” She ignored his deeply sarcastic look. “As for why we are doing it … it’s for fun. You know all about fun, Upton, don’t you? Or isn’t being a drunken rake much fun these days?”
He arched a brow at her. “I’ll ignore that.”
“Please don’t.”
“No matter. I intend to find out exactly what you’re all up to when I arrive at the house party tonight.”
Jane struggled to keep her face blank. She closed one eye and pressed a fingertip to her eyebrow. “I beg your pardon?”
“I said I intend to come over and see for myself.”
“You’re not invited.” Hmm. Perhaps not particularly brilliant, but they were the first words that came to mind.
He gave her another long-suffering look. “Aren’t I?”
“No.”
“Given the fact that Upbridg
e Hall is my inheritance, I have a feeling the servants may well let me in the front door.”
“You cannot come.” Oops, her voice had gone a bit too high there. Unfortunate, that.
He paused and leaned over the back of the settee. He was far too close to breathing down her neck. And his breath was giving her … oh, holy … gooseflesh.
“Give me one good reason,” he breathed.
Jane scrambled for an answer. Why indeed could the man not come to his own cousin’s party being hosted in a home he would one day own? She decided it best to switch tactics. She stood and paced away from him, desperately needing to put space between them. She had to restore her equilibrium. When she’d gone a safe enough distance, she turned to face him and narrowed her eyes on him. “Why do you want to come?”
Garrett straightened and resumed his pacing. “To see what you’re up to, of course, and to hopefully stop it before it gets too far out of hand.”
Too late. Jane took a deep breath. Oh, this was going to get ugly. Quite ugly, indeed. There was no help for it. Desperate times … “Very well, Upton. What do you want to stay away? Name your price.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The next morning, Cass took her watercolors and palette down to the conservatory. She hadn’t painted in an age. The activity always relaxed her. It was the only thing she did for propriety’s sake that she truly enjoyed. She adored staring at objects, considering their lines, making them come to life on a canvas using only a brush. It soothed her, made her forget her troubles. And that’s exactly what she intended, to forget everything she’d heard last night from Julian, specifically his confession that he intended to end things with Pen.
She glanced about at the lovely scene in front of her. Flowers were her particular favorite things to paint. Well, flowers and birds. But birds tended to have a pesky habit of flying away, and Lady Hoppington’s half-addled parrot had said one too many inappropriate things to her. Some of them in French.
Today, Cass had chosen an orchid as her subject. The soft scent of the flower floated through the slightly humid air in the room. She’d taken a seat on a little iron bench several paces away from the plant and was happily engaged in re-creating its delicate purple petals when Julian found her.
“There you are, Miss Bunbury.”
Cass nearly dropped her paintbrush. She grappled with it, caught it, and set it down on the small table she’d asked the footmen to set up next to her. She hastily smoothed her hands over her hair, hoping she didn’t get any paint streaks through it. So much for forgetting her troubles.
“Good … good morning, Captain Swift.”
He bowed to her. “I hope I didn’t startle you again. I seem to have a nasty habit of doing so.”
“No, no, not at all.” She smiled in reply.
“May I?” He gestured to the painting.
Cass’s breath caught in her throat. He wanted to see what she’d painted? Caught off guard, all she could do was nod.
Julian came around behind her and braced his hands on the back of the iron bench. The heat of his large body radiated toward her. She could smell his scent, his usual mix of soap and the barest hint of that cologne that made her senses tingle. He tilted his head, staring at the painting. “Excellent.”
A small sliver of pride shot through her. “Thank you,” she murmured.
“The color is perfect. Did you mix it yourself?” He sounded truly interested in her work.
“Yes. It’s something I like to do.”
“My sister has been known to paint. I don’t think she’s nearly as accomplished, however.”
Cass concentrated on wiping the paint from her fingers with a bit of linen. “Daphne?”
“Yes. You didn’t say. Have you ever met her?”
Cass kept her eyes trained on her hands. Cass would be a complete cake to pretend she didn’t know Daphne. But Patience Bunbury didn’t know her. “I’m not certain I’ve had the pleasure, Captain.” Liar. Liar. Liar.
He laughed softly at that. “If you’d met Daphne, I’ve a feeling you’d remember her, Miss Bunbury. I love her dearly but my sister is a bit—shall I say—unconventional?”
Now that was true, though Cass had always greatly enjoyed Daphne’s company. One never knew quite what one might hear when Daphne was about. She was unexpected in that way, very much like Lucy. Cass searched for something to say that would not involve more lies. “I’m certain your sister is lovely and accomplished, Captain.”
He glanced back at the painting and pointed a finger. “You paint nearly as well as my friend,” he continued. “In fact, this reminds me of her work.”
Cass mentally cursed herself. She was an idiot. Why had she let him see her painting? She’d sent him paintings before, small bits of watercolors she’d created over the years, drawings. Anything to cheer him, anything that could be neatly folded and included in her letters to him. He’d seen her hand before. She stared up at him, her heart lodged in her throat. Had he guessed? It was an innocuous painting of an orchid but it wouldn’t take much to know the lines, the texture.
“Who?” she asked, holding her breath. He’d had to have received her letter—Cass’s letter—by now and read it. But he wouldn’t mention it to Patience Bunbury. No, of course not.
Julian stared at the painting for a few more moments, then he shook himself. “It doesn’t matter. I came here to ask for your help, actually.”
She pointed at herself. “My help?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
“How could I ever be of help to you, Captain Swift?” She glanced away. Perhaps I could begin by telling you the truth.
He straightened up and came around to the front of the bench to face her. “I must find Penelope as soon as possible.”
“I know.” She could not look at him.
“I was hoping you’d attempt to write to her, to ask her when she intends to arrive.”
Cass’s mouth fell open. “Oh, I couldn’t. I … I wouldn’t know where to begin. I don’t know how I’d get a letter to Penelope. She’s traveling.”
“Yes, I know that, but I thought perhaps you might know where she is. You mentioned that she was stopping to see friends. Do you know where? Which friends she might be visiting?”
Cass dabbed her handkerchief to her forehead. Was it hot in the conservatory all of a sudden? A stabbing headache had begun behind her right eye. “I’m not certain. I—”
“Please, won’t you help me, Miss Bunbury? It’s imperative I speak to Penelope as soon as possible. I’m out of options.”
Cass wanted to die. Here was Julian, begging for her help. Not only could she not help him, she would be deceiving him even more if she allowed him to think that she could. But she also couldn’t say no to him. She cleared her throat. “I’ll see what I can do, Captain Swift.”
He smiled. “Thank you.”
Julian strode away and Cass busily set about putting away her painting supplies. Julian wanted her help in finding Penelope as soon as possible? Cass had to find Lucy. It was time to end this farce.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Five minutes later, Cass spotted Lucy in the blue drawing room. She and Jane sat across from each other, Jane with a book in her lap, Lucy sipping tea and perusing one of her ever-present lists.
Lucy glanced up as soon as Cass came into the room. “Ah, Cass, there you are. Sit down. Jane was just telling me something I do not want to hear. You might as well hear it, too.”
Cass made her way over to the settee and took a seat. “There’s something I must tell you, also,” Cass insisted.
“Let Jane tell us her news first,” Lucy replied. “It’s about Garrett.”
Garrett? Was Garrett coming? Cass’s plan to tell Lucy they must tell the truth could wait a moment. She nodded her assent.
“Go ahead,” Lucy prompted Jane as soon as Cass was settled. “Repeat what you just said to me.”
Jane took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “Upton is coming.”
Cass blinke
d. “He’s coming?”
Lucy nodded. “That’s right.”
Jane nodded, too. “Yes.”
Cass made a whimpering noise in the back of her throat. “But Jane, we sent you over there to keep him from coming. What happened?”
Jane sighed. “It’s not as simple as it sounds, you know. Upton can be quite stubborn. He insisted. However, the good news is that he’s agreed to play along.”
Cass let her shoulders sag. “How did you manage to convince him to do that?”
Jane pushed up her chin. “I’d really rather not say.”
Cass and Lucy eyed Jane askance.
Jane pulled her spectacles from her nose and polished them using the fabric of her gown. “Very well. I merely told him that Cass is to be known as Patience Bunbury and you are Lady Worthing and I am Miss Wollstonecraft and he agreed.”
“Just like that?” Lucy asked, skepticism dripping from her voice.
Jane shrugged. “There may have been a bit of bribery. By the way, Luce, he doesn’t believe for a moment that you’re expecting a baby.”
Lucy wrinkled her nose. “Harrumph.”
Cass leaned her head against the back of the settee and rubbed her temples. The headache was back, stabbing at her with a vengeance. This time it carried an ice pick. “But why is he coming?”
Jane shrugged. “Apparently, he wants to see for himself that we’re not doing anything overly scandalous or illegal.”
Lucy rolled her eyes. “Oh, that’s just preposterous.”
“Is it?” Jane gave her a knowing look.
Lucy harrumphed again.
Cass took a deep breath. She wanted to tell her friends that Julian planned to end things with Pen but she couldn’t. She’d promised Julian she would tell no one, and while she might be a liar in one way, she refused to be a liar in another. She would keep her promise to Julian.
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