by Pamela Lynne
His amusement could no longer be contained, and he laughed long and loud, drawing the attention from everyone in the room.
“Well,” Litchfield’s stern voice penetrated the entire group. “I believe we should let the ladies get on with their day. Richard, Julian.”
The men rose and said their farewells. Outside, Litchfield merely looked at the other gentlemen before entering his carriage. Richard resisted the urge to perfume a sarcastic bow as the carriage rode off and, instead, turned to display the full force of his wit on Julian. Before he could say a word, however, Julian walked off toward the stables. He caught up to him, but again was not allowed to speak as Julian used one arm to push his cousin into the shrubbery.
Chapter 6
“Miss Dawson, you are just as the earl described you. Do come in, all of you.” Jane, Amy, and their aunt received a warm welcome from Madame Veronica, the most popular dress designer in London. Though none of the ladies considered themselves particularly fashion conscious, they could not help being excited by all the fabrics and patterns on display in the designer’s shop. Jane was particularly drawn to one bolt of beautiful blue, darker than the gown she wore to the earl’s dinner—so dark it was nearly purple. She ran her hand over it to find that it was not silk, but satin, and it shimmered in the light.
“I have never seen this color before. What is it called?”
Madame Veronica walked over to her and smiled. “This is a fairly obscure color these days as not many young women are bold enough to pick it up. It is called ‘mazarine,’ like the butterfly.”
Jane smiled. “A butterfly. I like that.”
“Perhaps we can look at this again later. The gowns Lord Litchfield ordered for you are this way. They are nearly done and need only the final fitting. I must say, now that I see you, he was surprisingly accurate with your measurements.”
Astonished, Jane was a bit slow in responding. “He ordered the gowns already? When?”
“At least a fortnight ago. There are many, but my girls are accustomed to demanding customers and were able to complete the order on time.”
Jane looked back to see if her companions had heard. Amy was still occupied looking at patterns, but her aunt’s surprised look told her she had heard every word.
“That cannot be. We have not yet been engaged a fortnight.”
The older woman smiled and nodded. “As you say. I must be mistaken. Now, up on the stool you go. Let us get this gown off you, and we may begin the fittings.”
More than an hour later, Madame Veronica allowed Jane to take a break from the parade of gowns, all in various shades of white with the occasional peach or soft pink to add some variety. As she drank tea with her companions, her eyes kept drifting back to the beautiful blue fabric and one of the patterns Madame had laid out in front of them.
“Madame Veronica, how long would it take to make a gown from this pattern?”
“That would depend on who it was for.”
Jane smiled. “If I were to request this gown be completed for a visit to the theatre in two days’ time, could it be done?”
“Indeed, it can, and it shall. But we must first finish the alterations for the gowns his lordship already requested. I used to dress his late wife and remember how exacting he can be.”
“Did you know the late countess well?” Mrs. Carrington asked what Jane would not.
“Oh no, not at all. I had the privilege of working on her clothes for her coming out as well as her trousseau, but that was when I was just a seamstress in someone else’s design house. Years later, after I established my own house, Lord Litchfield would bring in her measurements and pick out patterns and fabrics as he has done with you. A seamstress close to his estate would complete the final alterations. Her ladyship was rarely in town. I never saw her here once.”
“How very odd.”
Madame Veronica shrugged her shoulders. “I have sold gowns to England’s wealthiest families for nearly fifteen years, and if there is one word I would use to describe them, it is ‘odd.’ They will do things as they will, and I will smile and take their money.”
Mrs. Carrington laughed. “That is a good philosophy, I believe. Do you know much about the family?”
“Aunt.”
Madame Veronica patted Jane on her knee. “Do not fret, lovely. You are curious, too. It is only natural to want to know more about the family into which you will marry. There are no women in the family now, so I do not have the opportunity to hear much. I know the sons are very handsome and highly sought after.”
“What about the cousin, Mr. Hale?” Amy chimed in, ignoring the amused looks on the faces of her aunt and sister.
“He has no woman close to him either. Men gossip as much as women, I am sure. I just do not have as much opportunity to listen to them.”
“But as far as you know, they are a respectable family?”
“As clean as a hound’s tooth.” Thinking further on this, the modiste added, “That is definitely odd. There is usually some talk about a family.”
“They seem to be very private. Perhaps there is truly nothing to talk about.” Jane gave her aunt a pleading look and then turned back to Madame Veronica. “Shall we finish now?”
The rest of the afternoon was spent in a much quieter fashion as each woman thought about the conversation.
Their thoughts continued over the next two days, with each lady reaching a different conclusion after spending their mornings with three of the Granville men. Amy decided that gossip was a reliable source of information, and if there were none, she would think no more of it. Mrs. Carrington steeped in her displeasure over Jane’s betrothal, her suspicion of the earl growing with every visit. There was nothing in his demeanor that could be truly off putting, but the cool way in which both his son and nephew interacted with him bothered her. Jane, however, was determined to be bothered by nothing—not her betrothed’s harshness toward his relations, nor the pair of eyes that saw through all her attempts at composure, nor the fact that the banns would begin to be read that Sunday.
She had none of those things on her mind as she dressed for the theatre. Her only focus was on the great pleasure it was sure to bring her sister and herself and on the beautiful gown she was wearing.
Jane once again stood before a mirror, astonished at the lady she saw staring back at her. This time, however, the feeling of being a whore dressed in lady’s clothing was not dominate, only a slight ache in the recesses of her awareness. She had bought the gown with the earl’s money, so there could be no solely good feeling involved with the vision, but she had chosen the dress—its color, fabric, and design. It was not a creation of her mother or her betrothed, and she felt a little like herself as she stood there smoothing the skirt.
“Jane, you are surely the most beautiful woman in London. I am delighted you chose to wear this tonight. All the gowns in your trousseau are exquisitely made, but this one suits you best of all.”
“I believe you are right, Amy, at least about the gown. This is such an important evening, perhaps even more so than dinner the other night. Lord Litchfield is introducing me to his peers tonight, and both Viscount Ashly and Captain Granville are accompanying us. I cannot be sure that I have yet gained their favor. Mama not being here can only help.”
Amy laughed. “Indeed. You have nothing to worry about, I am sure. I have seen no signs of disproval from either gentlemen, though Viscount Ashly does scowl so.”
“You are unkind, Amy. I do not think he scowls. He is only very serious.”
“Perhaps. I could not care less tonight, however. Nothing at all could ruin my mood. We are attending the theatre!”
Jane smiled at her sister’s excitement. “We have been before.”
“Yes, but not seated in a private box. We will not be interrupted by matrons more interested in gossip than the performance or all the people around us crooking their necks to see who has arrived.”
Jane sighed. “No, the craning necks will be looking at us this even
ing. Oh, Amy, I am so nervous. You must lend me some of your courage.”
Amy snorted in a way that can only be done when alone with a dear sister. “With as much money as that gown cost, you would think they would have sewn some courage into it.”
Jane stepped away from the mirror and twirled. “Perhaps they did.”
* * *
Tension was ever present when in company with his father and brother, but the feeling in the room where he now sat was curiously unfamiliar. Mrs. Carrington had removed herself with the excuse of checking on the children, but Richard had noticed the very subtle look her husband had cast, no doubt a signal for her to quit the room. Richard did not blame him for sending her away. Even for a seasoned officer, the air, thick with revulsion, was getting hard to breathe.
Still, he could find some amusement in the situation. Mr. Carrington was nothing at all to the great Earl of Litchfield. His occupation was not one on which the earl would have influence. Even if he somehow could manage to scare away all of Carrington’s students, he understood that Mrs. Carrington’s dowry was enough for the small family to live on comfortably.
There were no threats Litchfield could make that would garner respect or fear from the man in whose small parlor he now sat. It was obvious to all sitting there that Carrington felt nothing but loathing for Litchfield and the entire situation they were now in, sitting politely awaiting the ladies to join them for a bit of conversation before leaving for the theatre.
A subtle ruffling caught Richard’s attention, and he turned to see Amy glide into the room. The gentlemen rose, and there seemed to be a collective inhalation as Jane stepped in behind her sister. What idiot had left her on the shelf in Surry? he wondered as he took in the deep blue colored gown that flattered every dip and curve of her body. His eyes traveled down to the hem and back up to see a subtle blush trail up her neck to her cheeks. She did not blush as furiously as she had at dinner, and Richard could tell by her smile and the light in her eyes that her courage had risen with the exit of her mother and her confidence lent an air to her beauty that rendered her truly breathtaking.
Richard had begun to take a step forward when he felt Wesley beside him. Turning to see his brother’s reaction to Jane, he merely saw disapproval in his eyes, directed at him. Instead of being insulted, Richard took the silent admonishment for what it was—stop looking at our father’s betrothed as if she were yours.
“Ladies,” Litchfield addressed Amy and Jane after a deep bow, “Your loveliness will cause us to be the envy of every man in the theatre tonight.” He paused for the expected demurring and fawning over his gracious speech. He seemed disappointed with the lack of the later until Amy noticed his hesitation and spoke.
“You do us a great honor, my lord, by inviting us to sit in your box. I was just telling Jane of my excitement for the evening.”
Litchfield was nullified by the statement and smiled condescendingly at Amy. “I am pleased you could join us tonight. My nephew Julian will meet us there along with the Blanchards. I am sure the more appropriate thing would have been to have Lady Blanchard escort you to the theatre, but I admit to being selfish and wanting your company a bit longer. I assume a maid will accompany the ladies.”
The last statement was directed to Mr. Carrington, who responded with a curt nod. The intended insult hit its mark, Richard knew. Litchfield would rather have a maid serve as chaperone in the carriage than do the proper thing and invite the Carringtons as well.
“Good, good. I will not have the gossips saying Miss Dawson’s behavior is anything but correct.” He paused again, looking at Jane’s gown while removing something from his pocket. “My dear Miss Dawson, I had hoped you would do me the honor of wearing this tonight.” He handed Jane a pouch and then once again eyed her gown disapprovingly. “It has been in my family for generations, and I mean it to be a symbol of my devotion as the ton looks you over tonight. I do not believe, however, it goes with the gown you have chosen.”
There was another pause as a confused Jane looked at Litchfield and then at Amy, who had entered into a quiet conversation with her uncle. “Oh, would you like me to change, my lord?”
“I think that is best, Jane.” Litchfield’s voice had lowered an octave and became frigid as he continued quietly enough that only Jane and his sons heard. “I sent you to the modiste for a reason, my dear. This gown was not one of the pieces I had designed for you. You must learn to trust my judgment in these things. I understand that you know little about the circles you are entering. That is why you must heed my advice. Go and change into one of the gowns I chose, and put on the necklace before we are late.” As an afterthought, he added, “Please,” but everyone who could hear him knew he meant, “Now.”
The becoming blush of the moment before quickly grew into the bright flush of mortification as Jane looked around her to see who had heard the earl’s reprimand. Fighting tears and making an attempt at a dignified exit, she slowly left the room and made for the stairs. She did not run until she was sure she was out of sight, but racing the short distance up the stairs to her room did not relieve any of her humiliation. Not only were the earl’s words harsh, but the hard-lined looks of disapproval on both the captain’s and the viscount’s faces made her feel foolish indeed. Still attempting to fight off the tears, Jane reached around to quickly unfasten the buttons of her gown.
“Jane, what happened? I was speaking to Uncle and then looked around and saw you had vanished. Captain Granville said you had gone to change your gown. Why?”
“Lord Litchfield was not pleased with my selection. Will you please help me with these buttons?”
Amy did as bid, though bewildered by the earl’s reaction. “Why would he not be pleased? You were stunning in this gown.”
“Perhaps he felt me unfeeling not to have chosen to wear one of the gowns he chose for me. I must have hurt his feelings.”
“I suppose.”
“Also, he asked that I wear this.” Jane pulled the necklace, along with a matching set of earrings, from the pouch. “He said they would not match the blue gown.”
Amy tilted her head, observing Jane in the ivory gown with golden accents around the bodice and hem. The simplicity of the gown did go very well with the old-fashioned but elegant set of rubies encased in gold.
“Well, it is a lovely pairing that would suit any lady of the ton. I cannot help but be disappointed, though. The other gown fit you perfectly.”
“Yes, but it was not his choice. Men do like to have their way, do they not? I should not have bought the other dress.”
“I talked you into it.”
Jane shook her head. “You saw how much I liked the fabric and pattern. You wanted me to be comfortable. I suppose being an earl’s wife is not about comfort, but putting on the best show. I think I understand now. These jewels are from his family’s collection and are meant to display his place in society. The gown should not take away from that.”
“The gown or the woman in it?”
Jane looked to her sister and realized she had not successfully concealed her distress. She smiled and took Amy’s hand. “No more frowns. Let us save the drama for the actors. The evening need not be ruined by one mishap. The gentlemen are waiting for us.”
Amy returned the smile and followed Jane out of the room, feeling for the first time in her life that her sister was lying.
The slightly subdued group left soon after the ladies returned downstairs. Wesley and Richard took the liberty of handing Jane and Amy into the carriage, but before Litchfield could enter it himself, a pair of strong hands caught the collar of his great coat. Richard turned him around to face him. His sons were the only two men in London whom Litchfield had to look up to see, and when he did, he saw Richard’s threatening eyes boring into his own.
“Hear this, Litchfield.” Richard spoke low and menacingly, and he knew his father shivered not from the wind, which pleased him greatly. “If I am ever again witness to your humiliating her or treating her as your own
plaything to do with whatever you want, I will throttle you where you stand, regardless of where we are or whom we are with. I am no longer a child with no choice but to watch you destroy people. I will gladly kill you before I let you harm her.”
Richard released him and stepped into the carriage. Litchfield and Wesley looked at each other, both knowing that Richard had meant every word.
Chapter 7
“What in heaven’s name happened? Why does everyone look so angry?”
Julian guided Amy into Litchfield’s box and toward the first row of chairs where they stood slightly apart from the rest of the party. He had been eagerly anticipating her arrival, wanting very much to see her reaction to the performance and simply to be in her presence. Just a few days prior, he had thought the lightness he now felt was impossible, but Amy’s vivacity and youth had reminded him of happier days, when he himself was as full of life. It disturbed him to see her arrive looking forlorn.
“There was a disagreement over my sister’s gown. She had chosen one that the earl did not approve of, and although she changed immediately upon seeing his displeasure, it seems to have caused quite a bit of upset. Jane did not wish to anger anyone with her choice. The gown was truly lovely and appropriate for the evening. Needless to say, the carriage ride from Sloane Street was most uncomfortable.”
Julian pressed his lips together and shook his head. “Richard would never become upset over such a silly thing, and I doubt Wesley would either. I would wager it was Litchfield who earned their ire, not your sister.”
“Well, it seems she has recovered some since we have left the carriage. This should not ruin our entire evening.” They both looked toward Jane, who gave them an assuring smile. Amy seemed assuaged by the gesture, but Julian was more focused on the couple standing next to her. “Who is that speaking to Jane and your uncle?”
If any woman could ever rival Jane in beauty and grace, it was the one now walking toward them. Her olive complexion and dark hair were not fashionable, but she was striking in her deep plumb colored gown that showed her figure most advantageously. Amy, who usually had more confidence than was wise, felt herself shrinking as this exquisitely lovely woman came closer.
