“You...you did not love her, then?” Her hand was still fully ensconced in his, the heat radiating from him urging her closer.
“Love Mary? No.” Peter’s head dropped to his chest for a moment. “I wish I could have loved her. She deserved that, at the least.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have interrupted.” Jane squeezed his hand, hoping he would continue.
“He lured her away from the crowd that night, out into the gardens. And once Utley had her alone, he—he put her into a very compromising situation.” Peter looked up at her, as though calculating her reaction before continuing. “Sinclaire encountered them on their way back into the ballroom, and alerted us—Mama and I—to the circumstances. We rushed outside, but the damage had already been done. Utley had gone. He left Mary there, alone, crying.”
“What did you do?”
“I offered for her. Mama sent Sinclaire to find Lord and Lady Throckmorton, and they arrived shortly after we did. Throckmorton agreed there was no better solution. He wanted retribution from Utley, but he wanted his daughter’s happiness more.”
“And she could never be happy with Utley,” she said.
“No. I only wish I had been able to make her happy. She didn’t deserve to be tossed into a marriage she didn’t want, simply because of one man’s vengeance.”
Jane started at the idea of vengeance. She looked up into Peter’s eyes, which were cold and hard. Now wasn’t the time to press him. “But you weren’t cruel to her, were you? You treated her well. I know your family must have adored her.” How could anyone be unhappy living with the Hardwickes? Preposterous. They were as lively a bunch, and as loving, as any she had encountered. “And then there were the children. She must have loved your children.”
“I suppose she did. But I didn’t fulfill my obligation to her. I promised to love her, and I couldn’t bring myself to make it happen.”
“Peter,” Jane said, her voice gentle, “you did all you could. You protected her from shame. You gave her a family, a home. You provided for her needs. If she was still unhappy, you can’t continue to blame yourself.”
“But didn’t she also need love?” He choked out the words.
“Didn’t you? Did she love you, Peter? Did she give you all that you needed?”
He shot up from the bench and spun around on her. “How dare you? Mary was the perfect duchess. She was an excellent mother to our children.” Jane followed, placing a tentative hand on his arm. He pulled it away as though she’d scalded him.
“But did she love you?”
His eyes bored through her. “You could do no better. No one could fulfill her role in my life better than she did. Mary was born to be a duchess.”
“No. I don’t imagine I would be a very good duchess at all. Certainly not for you.” The idea of being Peter’s duchess was almost laughable. She could never conform to his expectations. Still, the scorn in his tone hurt.
They stood in the dim light of the garden walk, staring at each other, silent. Breathing. He smelled of firewood and soap, with the faintest hint of port.
“We should return,” he said, his brusque manner fully returned. “Supper will be served any moment.” Again, he placed her hand against his arm and started walking, leaving her little choice but to go with him. Her skin tingled everywhere he touched.
“You haven’t answered me,” she said as they hurried along the pathway. “Did Mary love you?” She might never understand why it was so important to her to know, but the need burned within her.
Minutes passed without a word. He likely would never answer her.
They drew close to the Veazeys’ supper box, where most of their party had already reconvened, save a few stragglers. Lord Utley was amongst the missing.
Just before they entered the gate, Peter leaned down near her ear. “No,” he said so softly she almost missed it.
Jane faced him, hoping the lighting of the box would illuminate his eyes enough she could interpret his meaning. The only thing she read in them was need.
Chapter Twelve
Sophie had been right. Mr. Selwood, Jane’s new solicitor, was the perfect man for the task.
On her first meeting with him, which, it should be noted, had been difficult enough to carry out without alerting Cousin Henrietta to any mischief being afoot, they had arrived at an agreement for the terms of their business relationship. They also arranged for a second meeting—one which Jane was altogether uncertain how she would bring about, seeing as it was to be held on Thursday afternoon.
Thursday, of course, being the very same day of Charlotte and Jane’s come-out ball. Not the sort of afternoon Cousin Henrietta was likely to allow Jane to scamper off and do Lord only knew what.
But she had to find a way to meet with Mr. Selwood then, because he planned to show her a few storefronts which could possibly become her new modiste shop should she find the terms acceptable.
She couldn’t very well open her shop without a shop to open, could she?
Somehow, she simply must find a way out of Hardwicke House without alerting Cousin Henrietta to the fact that she was gone. And then get back to the house in time to prepare for the ball. A minor snag in the plan—nothing too serious.
Thankfully, Sophie was fully committed to the entire plan. The two of them had stayed up quite late several nights, planning the best ways for Jane to accomplish her preparations for the shop without raising the dowager’s suspicions, discussing what the décor should be and how the shop should be organized, debating prices and services and various other ways Sophie could become involved.
While Sophie was by no means a seamstress herself, the eldest Hardwicke sister had an excellent eye for fashion and was always ahead of the rest of society when it came to the current trends. Not only that, but she had a head for figures and loads of creative ideas for drumming up business.
It didn’t hurt matters either that much like Jane, Sophie was in no rush to find herself at the altar. Marriage, while not an entirely unattractive concept, was not an area in which Lady Sophia Hardwicke ever intended to settle. Her husband would be perfect or he simply would not be.
Much to her mother’s chagrin.
She had never told her mother in quite those precise words, at least not while Jane had been present, but both Sophie and Jane had every reason to believe the Dowager Duchess of Somerton had surmised as much.
And while Cousin Henrietta was currently spending much of her match-making focus on Jane and Peter (separately, of course), she consistently sent noticeable nudges in her eldest daughter’s direction as well.
She’d made it abundantly clear: Sophie’s prospects would not be overlooked.
Despite her mother’s best, if misguided, intentions, Sophie would be quite content to remain an aging spinster. She had an ample fortune, so she need never work to support herself. Nor would she need to become a pariah to one of her siblings, forcing them to eternally provide for her, as long as she managed her fortune wisely.
Still, the prospect of working for herself, earning her keep, doing something with herself other than living the idle life of a Lady rather appealed to her. Indeed, as they sat in Jane’s chamber after the rest of the house had retired, poring over their notes, she heaved out a sigh and set the sheet of foolscap she was studying down on the bed between them.
Jane glanced up and couldn’t help lifting a brow at the look of sheer determination on Sophie’s face. “Yes?” she prodded.
“You know, dear, having a solicitor to handle certain aspects of your business will not quite be enough. Mr. Selwood is a dear man, and he’s rather more than capable, too. But will he be responsible for collecting payment for your services? For ordering materials and ensuring their delivery? I hardly think so.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Jane responded. For that matter, she’d thought little beyond the actual work of sewing and designing gowns. Oh, dear. “I’m more than confident in my abilities to do the actual stitching, the designing...anything where
I can get my hands on the fabric and create or decide how best to work a gown for a particular effect on my clients. But sales?”
Sophie winked at her. “That’s why you need me.”
“But what would your mother say? She would never in a thousand years stand for it. Even Peter would throw a fit if he thought you were going to work.” It would be difficult enough to convince them to allow Jane to run her own business. How laughable—run her own business, indeed. She hadn’t the slightest idea what she was getting herself into, at least in terms of London society and not simply selling her work to the ladies of Whitstable.
“I’m unconcerned about what they would say. Why, I’ll be five-and-twenty in October. I believe it’s high time I decide what I want out of life, if you ask me.” Sophie pushed the pillow between them out of the way and looked straight into Jane’s eyes. “You need me. I know who you want as customers, and I can convince them to give you their business. I can handle the bookkeeping while you focus on the creative aspects. Admit it, Jane.”
And so she did. In fact, they decided to become partners in the business. Everything would be split equally. When she really thought about it, having Sophie working with her was a relief.
Then the conversation turned to how they could go about sneaking Jane out of the house to meet with Mr. Selwood again. The first time, Jane and Sophie had gone out for a walk through the park. Since they were together, Cousin Henrietta had not insisted upon sending a maid to chaperone, so they had gone alone. They’d met Mr. Selwood at Gunter’s, and Sophie sat with some acquaintances and enjoyed an ice while Jane handled her business matters.
This time, however, would be far more complicated. Sophie had already promised to spend the afternoon with Charlotte visiting the Marlborough sisters. Jane was expected to attend the outing as well, but Char would surely ask far too many questions if she took off for a bit instead of remaining by their side for the visit. She wasn’t ready for anyone else to know her plans. Not until her plans were more tangible, at the very least.
“It is time, dear Jane, to call in reinforcements.” Sophie’s pronouncement came after several moments of silence while both women forged internal debates. She winked. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
Sophie scurried off the bed and out the door of the bedchamber, then padded through the silent house in her bare feet.
Surely it was good that Sophie had an idea—wasn’t it? Oh, drat, Jane hoped it was good. But the longer it took for Sophie to return, the more Jane’s stomach churned and roiled, dreading what could possibly be in the works.
When Sophie finally re-entered the room, Jane nearly fell from the bed in shock. A fully dressed Neil, the handsome, youngest Hardwicke brother with his light auburn hair and rogue’s smile, appeared by her side.
Jane pulled at her robe to be sure she was fully covered and glared at her friend for giving her no warning. This was highly inappropriate, and possibly the most devilishly and deliciously scandalous thing Jane had ever experienced in her life.
Well, at least the most scandalous thing she had experienced in her nightgown.
Neil merely grinned the way she imagined Mr. Cuddlesworth would grin at his prey before pouncing, which in turn sent a blush over Jane’s face and down her neck. She pulled her robe up higher.
“What on earth is the meaning of this?” she whispered, hoping no one in the house would hear them and discover that a gentleman was in her chamber...even if Sophie was there, as well.
“I was hoping to have that very question answered, myself,” Neil drawled. He didn’t sound deep in his cups—at least she didn’t think he did. Not that she had ever been in the presence of a drunkard before. Oh, double drat, how was she supposed to know such things? Times like the present made it abundantly clear how protected a life she’d lived, out in the country with a vicar for a father.
Jane shook her head as though to clear her thoughts. Calm down. Breathe. Sophie knew what she was doing. Didn’t she?
“We need your assistance,” Sophie said, facing Neil. “No questions asked.”
He narrowed his gaze, looking at them each in turn. “Go on. I’m listening, but making no promises...yet.”
“Tomorrow afternoon, Jane’s going to feign illness—”
“I’m what? I’m never ill. Your mother will never believe that.”
Neil chuckled. “I should have known Mama was involved in this somehow.”
Sophie glared at Neil then turned the fullness of her ire on Jane. “She will. Stop interrupting. It’s the afternoon of your come-out, and you are going to develop a bout of nerves.” Sophie’s resolve was enough to force even Old Boney himself into submission at that moment. Jane bit her lip so as not to argue further.
“All right. Jane is faux-ill. What does this have to do with me?” asked Neil. He wasn’t behaving impatiently—that wasn’t quite the right word for it. Jane thought he was rather objective and methodical, though, not playing around at all. She’d never encountered him before without seeing him make a joke of something or pull a prank. This change in his deportment was unnerving, to say the least. He acted as though he carried out covert operations on a recurring basis.
Sophie interrupted Jane’s musings. “You’re going to help her sneak out of the house—I would suggest through that window over there—and drive her in a covered carriage to Bond Street. She needs to meet with someone there and then return without being seen. By anyone.”
“Why, precisely, am I going to do something as asinine as this? And who is it she’s meeting?”
“No questions. Either you do it for us, or you leave now.”
Good Lord, Sophie had truly lost her mind this time. Sneaking out of windows—second floor windows, to be precise—and traipsing furtively all through London. No man in his right mind would agree to a plan as idiotic as this, certainly not without knowing more details.
Theirs was a lost cause, and Neil was sure to say something to either Peter or Cousin Henrietta. They were done for.
He stood there, immobile and silent, for so long that Jane was about to rip her skin free because it would not stop crawling about and was driving her to distraction. “All right.”
All right? He was going to do it? “You can’t possibly be serious,” Jane said before she could think better of it, earning a glare from Sophie.
“I am. What time will this clandestine lover’s meeting take place?”
Sophie glanced at some notes she and Jane had been going over with meeting times and business plans and fully ignored Jane’s blush. “You should be in the carriage and leaving by two-thirty at the latest.”
“I’ll see you at the window at two-fifteen, then,” he said to Jane and winked. “Anything else?”
A brisk shake of Sophie’s head gave him all the answer he needed, and he left them as quietly as he had come.
“He’s going to do it? Truly?” The entire idea that Neil would take part in such a ludicrous plan baffled her.
“Truly.”
And that was the end of that particular conversation.
~ * ~
Now, sitting in the drawing room the next afternoon with the other women of the house, Jane’s nerves were taking control. A glance up at the large grandfather clock by the far window only intensified her unease.
Two o’clock. Almost time. Any minute now, Sophie and Charlotte would take their leave, and she would have to feign illness.
Although, with the current state of her stomach, there may not be nearly as much deceit involved as she had previously envisioned.
She stole a look at Sophie, who sent her a forceful frown. Obviously, her friend intended to follow through with her end of the agreement. But neither had yet seen Neil this morning, so how could she know whether he would make good on their arrangement? He might have only said he would do it, without actually intending to follow through.
Oh, drat, drat, drat.
And then he poked his head around the doorway. “Good morning, mother. Ladies.” His rogui
sh grin was well in place as he winked in Jane’s direction, and his eyes twinkled devilishly.
“I would hardly consider this morning,” Charlotte said. “Though, for you, I can see how it might be.”
“Early to bed, early to rise and all that,” he said in response, waving his hand airily. “You know how I enjoy watching the sunrise.”
“True, but most of us are just waking when we see it. You often have yet to go to bed.”
Cousin Henrietta quickly changed the subject, clearly having no desire to hear her adult children bicker any more than necessary—even if she did have a smile in her eyes that was struggling to work itself down into her mouth despite fierce resistance. “Neil, where are you off to this afternoon? You are dressed far more...well, far more than you would be to stay at home.”
“Tattersall’s, Mama. But only after a stop at White’s. I intend to win some money off of Toby Shelton and purchase a new horse with it.”
“Oh.” His mother was unable to stop the frown from forming. “Well, do have a good time, then. And be responsible, please.”
He waved and was out the front door without any further ado.
Jane tried not to snicker at Cousin Henrietta’s continued mutterings which amounted to something similar to: “The day that boy ever learns to be responsible will be the day I drive a chariot in Rome.”
Several minutes had ticked off the grandfather clock. Sophie stood and said, “Well, ladies? Shall we be off to visit with the Marlborough sisters?” She carefully set her embroidery work (which had noticeably not been altered the entire day, even though she clearly had made herself look rather busy with it) on the table next to her and straightened her lovely pink afternoon gown.
Charlotte rushed to do the same, with Char exclaiming, “Oh, I am so excited. It’s been an age since I saw Theodora, I must say.”
A Lord Rotheby's Holiday Bundle Page 78
