Gazing down at her face, he realized how wonderful it felt to hold her in his arms. “I refuse to give you up,” he warned. Jane’s lips parted in surprise, offering an unconscious invitation. He couldn’t resist the temptation, and bent his head down to kiss her.
Her lips were soft and warm, just as he had known they would be. Jane was passive at first, but soon began to respond to the insistent demands of his lips. He wrapped her arms about him, and deepened the kiss, savoring her innocent response.
It was with regret that he finally ended the kiss. Jane drew back, her eyes wide with passionate wonder. She reached up one hand and tentatively touched her mouth, where his lips had been.
“We were meant to be together,” Glendale reassured her.
Jane shook her head as if to clear it. She leaned backwards, breaking free from his embrace. “This changes nothing,” she said, rising swiftly and seating herself on the opposite bench.
How could she be unaffected after the kiss they had shared? “Nothing? This changes everything,” Glendale thundered. “I love you, you widgeon. And I know you love me. And we’re going to be married.”
Jane’s small smile did not reach her eyes. “Only you would make a declaration of love sound like an ultimatum.” At least she had not denied that she loved him in return. Her smile vanished, leaving only determination in its place. Glendale had the sinking feeling that he was not going to like what she said next. “I am promised to Mr. Whitmore, and I intend to honor my promise.”
This couldn’t be happening. It wasn’t possible. No woman could be that pigheaded and stubborn. “But you can’t marry him. You don’t love him. You told me yourself.”
“Mr. Whitmore knew that I didn’t love him when he made his offer. He offered a marriage of convenience.”
“A marriage of convenience? James Whitmore doesn’t want a wife, he wants a brood mare.” Jane flushed, and Glendale knew his words stung. “And have you thought about the sons you are supposed to give him? This isn’t an arrangement where you each go your separate ways. Have you thought what it will be like when Mr. Whitmore claims his marital rights? Have you thought about how it will feel when he kisses you? When he climbs into your bed, and—”
“Stop this!” Jane yelled. “Stop being cruel. It isn’t like that.”
“Then what is it?” Glendale asked, trying his best to sound understanding. Why couldn’t she see what was so obvious to him? Her hesitation was driving him crazy.
“Mr. Whitmore came to my aid when no one else would. He has been very good to me and my family. I can’t cry off now. He doesn’t deserve to be treated in such a shabby fashion.”
“And what about us? Are you going to ruin our lives, out of some misguided sense of gratitude?”
Jane was furious over Glendale’s high-handedness. How dare he proclaim himself in love with her, as if that fact alone solved everything? Didn’t he realize that it was too late? “It is too late,” Jane said aloud.
“Is it? Or are you just too stubborn to admit that you’ve made a mistake?” Glendale demanded. His chilly tones were a stark contrast to the anger in his eyes.
Jane opened her mouth to defend herself, and then closed it with a snap as she forgot what she wanted to say. She was doing the right thing. Marrying Mr. Whitmore was the only honorable choice, wasn’t it? If only Glendale would give her time to think. But the more he shouted, the angrier she became.
Glendale tried a new tack. “I don’t think I could bear to see you again as Mrs. Whitmore,” he said.
Jane blinked as she considered the notion. Glendale was right. It was impossible for them to remain simply friends. And while many ladies of the ton conducted discreet affairs, Jane couldn’t picture herself and Glendale in such a sordid relationship.
How would it be to never see Matthew again, except as a distant stranger at public events? Never to have the warmth of his companionship? Losing him again would hurt more than before, for this time she had no shield of righteous anger to hide behind. Even thinking about it made her heart sore.
“Enough,” Jane said. Glendale was right. It was time to be her mother’s daughter, and to trust her heart instead of her head. The demands of convention and obligation meant little when measured against the cost of losing Matthew forever. Slighting Mr. Whitmore would be hard, but far less difficult than condemning them both to a marriage based on a lie. For how could she promise to honor and obey one man, when she loved another?
“Enough what?”
Jane essayed a smile, but she knew it was a weak effort. “Enough quarreling. For once, you are right. Marrying Whitmore would be the biggest mistake of my life.”
Glendale reached over and grasped her hands in his. “Does this mean that you’ll marry me?”
“Yes. If only because no one else would put up with your rag manners,” she replied, trying to interject a note of lightness. She knew she should be feeling joyful, but she merely felt drained. There was a sense of relief at having made a decision, mixed with dread at having to tell Mr. Whitmore.
“You won’t regret this. I swear to you I’ll make you happy,” Glendale promised. And by the smile on his face, he was feeling enough joy for both of them.
Chapter Fifteen
Mr. Whitmore arrived that afternoon, in response to Jane’s frantic summons. They exchanged greetings, and Jane enquired after his health. She then lapsed into silence, uncertain of how to begin.
“Your note said it was urgent,” Mr. Whitmore prompted.
Jane nodded in reply.
“Is there something amiss with Lady Barton?”
Well, yes, there was, but she could hardly tell him that Lady Barton had taken to her bed with a fit of megrims, once she learned that Jane was to marry Lord Glendale.
“No, my aunt is quite well.” Jane drew a deep breath, steadying her courage. There was no gentle way to do this, so she should just tell him the truth. “I needed to speak to you about a more personal matter. About us. And our marriage.”
“Indeed?”
Oh dear, this was going to be even more awkward than she had feared. Mr. Whitmore wore an expression of gentle interest. He clearly had no idea of what she was going to say next.
Jane fixed her gaze on her hands, which were tightly clenched together. Maybe if she didn’t look at him, it would be easier. “I have given this much thought, and I am afraid that I can no longer accept your offer of marriage. You have been most kind and generous, and I am not worthy—”
“It is Lord Glendale, isn’t it?” Mr. Whitmore interrupted.
“How did you know?”
Mr. Whitmore gave a sad smile. “I always knew that you held a tendre for him. And from his behavior the other night, I suspected that he returned your feelings. When Lord David Cartland made a disparaging remark about you, Glendale came close to calling him out.”
It was gratifying to know that Glendale had leapt to her defense, but how mortifying it must have been for Mr. Whitmore. Jane couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. Mr. Whitmore was truly the innocent party in this affair, and it wasn’t right that he be hurt.
“Mr. Whitmore, I have treated you rather shabbily. I am ashamed when I think of how good you have been to me and my family. I don’t know how we will ever repay you.”
“Don’t condemn yourself,” Mr. Whitmore said. “It may have all worked out for the best. In the last weeks I have had my own doubts about the wisdom of starting a new family at my age.”
Her erstwhile suitor appeared resigned rather than angry. Perhaps Mr. Whitmore wasn’t just being kind, and he truly had second thoughts about the marriage.
“I take it that Lord Glendale has offered you marriage?” Mr. Whitmore asked.
“Yes,” Jane said.
Mr. Whitmore rose from his seat. He took her right hand in farewell. “Then I wish you both much happiness,” he said.
Mr. Whitmore was kindness itself. It wasn’t fair that he should be hurt. She wanted to jump up, to tell him that it was all a horrible mistake
, and that she would be pleased to be his wife after all. But Jane kept silent. She had always known that Mr. Whitmore was an estimable gentleman. But she loved another, and nothing could change that.
He paused at the door, and then turned back to face her. “Did I ever tell you that my sister’s youngest boy is named after me?”
“No,” Jane said, confused by this change of topic.
“They call him James Mallery. He seems a likely enough lad, and I’ve often thought he would have a good head for the business. Perhaps it’s time that I sent for him,” Mr. Whitmore said, as if thinking aloud. Then he gave a her a half bow and departed.
Jane didn’t know how long she remained sitting there, lost in thought. She might have stayed there all day, if Browning hadn’t shown in another caller.
“Matthew!” she cried, jumping up and running across the room.
Glendale gave her a quick embrace. “I know what we agreed, but I couldn’t stay away any longer.”
It was so good to see him, to have him hold her. Just the sight of him made her feel better. “It’s all right,” Jane reassured him. “Mr. Whitmore just left.”
Glendale took a step back, so he could look at her. “Did you tell him?”
“Yes,” Jane said, saddened by the memory of the conversation. “He was so good about it. It just doesn’t seem fair.” She rested her head against Glendale’s shoulder, which gave her an excellent view of Browning’s apoplectic expression.
“You know that I will repay him,” Glendale said.
“Of course. But it isn’t the money. He is such a nice man,” Jane tried to explain.
“Well, you can’t marry both of us,” Glendale replied, a hint of exasperation in his tone.
The thought prompted her to giggle. “I know that, silly.” It was incredible. She knew that she should be sorry for hurting Mr. Whitmore, but all she could feel was an overwhelming happiness. Matthew loves me, and we are to be married, she told herself. Surely there could be no greater joy.
“I love you, and we’re going to be married,” she repeated aloud, for Glendale’s benefit.
“There’s no need to sound so amazed,” Glendale said. Behind him, the imperturbable Browning stood gaping, his mouth open.
“Married?” the butler croaked.
Glendale gave Jane a final squeeze and then removed his arms. “We’re scandalizing the servants,” he told her, taking a step back. “Why don’t you invite me in?”
“Oh, yes,” Jane said. “Do come in and take a seat. We have so much to talk about.” She took a wicked delight in seeing Browning’s discomfiture.
She had taken but two steps when the front knocker sounded. Jane paused, wondering who on earth would be calling at this hour. Browning rushed over to open the door. Jane heard the sound of excited chatter. Those voices sounded familiar. It couldn’t be, could it?
“Jane, Jane, where are you?” Little Michael burst past the butler and came running into the foyer. His speed proved his undoing, for he slipped on the marble and fell on his backside. Undaunted he scrambled back up. “Jane!” he yelled.
“I take it the family has arrived?” Glendale asked. There was no time to reply.
“Here I am,” Jane said, stepping out into the hallway. “But what are you doing here?”
Michael stopped and stared at her. “Janey?” he asked. Jane leaned over and picked him up. Ouch. Either Michael had put on weight, or she was no longer as strong as she used to be. “Yes, it is me,” Jane said. She kissed Michael on the cheek, and then set him down.
Michael wiped his cheek with the back of his hand. “I knew it was you,” he said. Then he rushed back through the open door. “I found her!” he yelled.
The rest of her family came in through the open door. Jane was rapidly surrounded, lost in a flurry of hugs and heartfelt greetings. It was all noise and confusion, and it was wonderful. “Oh Mama, I am so happy to see you,” Jane said, when Lady Alice finally appeared, bringing up the tail of her brood. “But what are you all doing here? We didn’t expect you for days yet.”
Lady Alice scrutinized Jane. “Well, you look astonishingly well.” Taking off her cape and hat, she handed them to one of the footmen who had appeared, drawn by all the noise.
“Mama, Mama, doesn’t Jane look elegant? I hardly recognized her,” Katherine remarked.
“I’m hungry, Mama,” Jonathan complained.
Everyone was talking at once, not waiting for an answer. Jane spun around, trying to keep an eye on the littlest ones. Where had Michael gone off to?
“Children,” Lady Alice said, holding up one hand. A miraculous silence reigned. “You, sir, what is your name?”
“Browning, milady,” the butler replied, with an attempt at his old dignity. The events of the last hour had put a serious dent in his composure.
“Very well, Browning. See that tea is served in…”
“The morning room,” Jane suggested helpfully.
“See that tea is served in the morning room. Then inform Lady Barton that her sister has arrived.” Lady Alice’s gaze swept the hall, counting her flock. Apparently she came up one short. “Michael, come out at once,” she ordered.
Michael obediently emerged from his hiding place behind a particularly ugly statue.
“Children, take off your coats and give them to the footmen. Then follow Mr. Browning, and he’ll see that you have some tea.”
Heartened by the prospect of refreshment, the children were quick to comply. Only Ellen demurred. “But what about Jane?” she asked.
“Jane and I have to talk,” Lady Alice replied. “We will be along later.”
In no time at all, the children cast off their outer garments and followed Browning upstairs. The foyer seemed much too quiet, with only the three of them remaining. Glendale, who had stood observing the whole proceedings from the sidelines, now came forward.
“Mama, may I present Lord Glendale?”
Glendale lifted her mother’s hand and raised it to his lips. “A pleasure to meet you, Lady Alice. I can see now where Jane gets her beauty.”
Lady Alice smiled, not immune to the flattery of a handsome man. “The pleasure is mine, Lord Glendale. My daughter has written so much about you.”
Glendale shot Jane a look. Jane could feel her cheeks heating in mortification, as she tried frantically to remember just what it was that she had written.
“You must be tired after your long journey,” Glendale said diplomatically. “I will take my leave now, so you can rest and have a chance to talk with your daughter.”
“No, please stay a moment,” Lady Alice said. Then she looked over at Jane. “I came because of your letters. You seemed unhappy, and I had the feeling that you were about to make a terrible mistake.” Her mother gave Jane a searching look that made Jane feel as if she were six years old again. “But perhaps I was mistaken. You seem quite well.”
Jane didn’t know how to break the news. And Glendale was no help. He just stood there, carefully neutral. Probably wondering just what it was she had written about him. Well, it served him right.
“I look forward to meeting your fiancé Mr. Whitmore,” Lady Alice said finally.
“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Jane said.
“Not possible? Has something happened to him?” her mother demanded.
Glendale finally took pity on her. He moved over to stand next to Jane, and wrapped one arm affectionately about her waist. “What your daughter is trying to say is that there has been a change of plans. She’s going to marry me, instead.”
Lady Alice beamed.
“She’s marrying Lord Glendale! I told you she would,” Bobby whispered loudly. Jane turned and saw the children lined up on the staircase. So much for privacy. Apparently her brothers and sisters had forsaken the promised nourishment in favor of witnessing the unfolding drama.
“Are you sure you are ready to take us on?” Lady Alice asked drily. “They’re not usually this well behaved.”
“I can think of
nothing I want more,” Glendale replied.
Jane’s heart swelled with happiness. “And I love you, too, Matthew Kingsley,” she declared. Then, surprising herself with her daring, she turned and gave him a kiss. She intended only a quick brush of their lips, but Glendale had other intentions, cupping his hands around her face, and giving her all his attention.
“Oh, isn’t it too romantic,” Rosemarie sighed. And Jane, caught up in Glendale’s kisses, silently agreed.
The children clattered down the stairs, eager to join in the celebrations. Glendale released her with a pleasing show of reluctance. “We’ll finish this later,” he promised.
“Congratulations, sir,” Dick said, sticking out his hand for Glendale to shake. “I am sure my sister will make you very happy.”
“You mean he will make her happy,” Bobby countered.
Glendale shook both their hands solemnly. “I am certain we will do our best to make each other happy,” he promised.
“May I present the rest of my family?” Jane offered. “You’ve met the twins already. This is Rosemarie, who’s next in age to me. Then there’s Katherine, Emily, Ellen, Jonathan, and Michael our baby.”
“I’m not a baby,” Michael insisted.
“Does this mean we’re rich? We won’t be poor again?” Ellen asked anxiously. She couldn’t have been more than nine or ten, but for all her youth she looked like a miniature of his Jane, right down to the way her brow furrowed when she was worried.
Glendale hastened to reassure the child. “It means that you will be part of my family, and that I will take care of everyone.”
“If we’re rich, then I want a pony,” Jonathan said.
Why not? His own happiness was such that he felt an urge to share it. “Everyone can have a pony,” Glendale promised recklessly.
The children cheered. “Matthew, you mustn’t spoil them,” Jane protested.
“I hardly think a few ponies are likely to spoil them,” Glendale countered.
“I don’t like horses. May I have a new dress instead?” Emily asked. “I’ll be fifteen next month.”
“Children, children,” Lady Alice admonished. “You mustn’t be so forward. What will Lord Glendale think of you?”
A London Season Page 17
