by Anne Herries
‘I know you to be a generous man.’ Jane spoke stiffly because inside she was hurting.
She had been placed in an impossible situation and there was only one way of dealing with the embarrassment of having heard their quarrel. ‘However, I see no reason for you to offer marriage out of a sense of duty, sir. I shall save you the trouble of asking. It would not suit me to be married at the moment.’
‘Jane dearest,’ Lady Mary said, ‘you might wish to speak to Lord George privately about this. Come, Andrew, I think we should leave them together.’
‘No, Godmother, please do not leave. I shall show Lord George to the door. We may say all that we wish before he leaves.’
‘You will be wishing me to the devil,’ George said. ‘Pray do not trouble yourself to see me out, Miss Lanchester. I am not worthy of your notice and shall try not to impose on your society in future. Ma’am, Lanchester, excuse me.’
Jane felt the tears sting her eyes as he walked from the room. He was angry. Her answer had made him believe that she disliked him and Andrew’s behaviour had been nothing less than rude. She wanted to apologise, but her pride would not let her.
She turned reproachful eyes on her brother.
‘I hope you are pleased with yourself, Andrew. You have insulted Lord George once too often.’
‘Jane…’ Andrew stared at her face. Something of what she was feeling must have got through to him, for he looked ashamed. ‘You could not wish to marry him? Not after what he did?’
‘He saved my life and he rescued Mariah. Had I not escaped, I dare say he would have done his best to find me this time.’
‘He paid Bow Street Runners to search for you,’ Lady Mary said. ‘And he offered to pay the forty-thousand-pound ransom if it was needed. I think he cares for you a great deal, Jane.’
‘He is a gentleman of honour, no matter what Andrew thinks,’ Jane said, her throat hoarse as she struggled against her emotion. ‘What he offered was exactly what I would have expected of him. You were insufferably rude to him, Andrew.’
Andrew looked uncomfortable. ‘I was angry. I did not imagine that you cared for him, Jane.’
‘I do not,’ Jane said and left the room quickly before the tears could fall.
Behind her, Lady Mary and Andrew looked at each other in silence for a moment, then, ‘I didn’t think she really cared for him,’ he said.
‘She is in love with him,’ Lady Mary said and shook her head at his frown. ‘The best thing you can do, Andrew, is to take yourself off to your estate and leave your sister to me. Her pride is sadly bruised. Jane has borne her ordeal bravely but her emotions are in tatters. She needs to come to terms with her feelings. Lord George may decide that it is worth making another push to win her, but if he does not I must see what I can do to bring them together.’
‘Are you saying I should allow them to marry?’
‘Jane is old enough to decide for herself. She would wish for your blessing, but, if she once made up her mind, I do not think you could stop her.’
‘No, perhaps not. If she can twice escape from a rogue like Blake, she is capable of choosing her own husband.’ Andrew ran his fingers through his dark hair. ‘I suppose I was a bit rough on Marlowe. I have something of a temper.’
‘You were fortunate he did not call you out. You should write a short note of apology— but say nothing of Jane. If Jane believes she is being coerced into a marriage to save her reputation, she will refuse it—as she did just now.’
‘Why did she—if she cares for him?’
‘She was embarrassed. Put yourself in her place, Andrew.’
‘I dare say you are right.’ He was rueful. ‘I shall apologise to Jane later—but Blake remains a danger. I must do something about protecting my sister.’
‘I think you may safely leave that to Lord George. He told you it was his intention to employ men to watch over her. Write and accept his offer of help in the matter of Jane’s protection—and apologise. I shall make certain he is informed of any slight danger to her safety. Perhaps, when they meet again, they will come to their senses and admit their love for each other and then you must accept their marriage with a smile.’
‘You mean that you will find a way of bringing him to Bath if he does not come of his own accord?’
‘Exactly so.’
‘You are a very wise lady,’ Andrew said. ‘Excuse me, I shall write the letter at once.’
* * *
Jane was shaken by a storm of tears. She leaned against the door of her room and then locked it, not wanting to be disturbed. Her distress and embarrassment at hearing her brother and Lord George argue over her was acute. Andrew had been abominably rude, but that was not the worst of it. To hear him say that his sister did not require Lord George’s charity had cut her to the quick. What must have passed between them before her arrival?
What had Lord George said to make her brother deny him in such terms? Was her reputation so completely ruined that Lord George felt obliged to marry her? Clearly he had no wish for it or they would not have been discussing her in such a manner.
It was so lowering! She could not bear that he felt he must marry her. Andrew must have accused him of bringing her reputation into ill repute. Indeed, his insults might have demanded satisfaction had not Lord George been so forbearing.
It was simply not his fault that she had been kidnapped the first time. Jane knew that her reckless nature had led her into trouble and she had only herself to blame for what had happened.
Blake had told her that he had had her abducted out of a desire for revenge the second time, and that was as much her brother’s fault as Lord George’s. Jane’s own bravery had accomplished her recent escape, but on the first occasion she owed much to her rescuer.
She was in love with Lord George and, had he asked because he cared for her, she would have been happy to cast independence to the winds in favour of love, even though she might be making a terrible mistake for a woman of her nature. Yet knowing that she cared for him made the humiliation so much harder to bear. He had asked out of a sense of duty—because her brother had blamed him for ruining her reputation.
* * *
George stared moodily out of the window. It had just started to drizzle with rain, which, on top of the way he was feeling, was highly depressing. He knew that he ought to have expected Lanchester’s anger at his proposal. What brother in his right mind would wish to see his sister married to a man who was the cause of her abduction?
He kicked moodily at an inoffensive and very attractive music stand. Jane had been very dignified, but she had looked pale and was clearly in distress. It was no wonder after what she had been through. Having been to the inn where she was held captive, George knew what it must have been like for her in the surrounding lanes and alleys. Alone and fleeing for her life, she must have been terrified.
How brave and beautiful she was. He could hardly fault her for refusing his proposal. George knew himself unworthy—yet he could not help a tiny spark of hope flaring. Something in her eyes had told him a very different story.
He had avoided speaking to her alone, knowing that she must have heard what was being said and would not understand. He had offered because his own feelings were involved, but had couched his offer to her brother in a way he thought Lanchester might find acceptable. Well, it had backfired on him and now he must think again.
One thing he was determined on. That rogue Blake would not be allowed to come near Jane again. She would be watched every time she left her home and Price’s men had been told to shoot to kill. Jane must be protected whatever the consequences.
Perhaps one day, when she had had time to recover from her distress, she might find it in her heart to forgive him for what had happened to her.
Chapter Ten
‘Do you feel able to attend Lady Astley’s ball?’ Lady Mary asked two days later. ‘It may be an ordeal for you, my love, because the gossips will have heard something—but I think it should be attempted, if you can.�
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‘I shall certainly attend,’ Jane said, lifting her head to meet her godmother’s anxious gaze. ‘If anyone asks me, I shall tell them the truth—at least I shall say that I was abducted and held to ransom. However, the rest shall remain our secret.’
‘I think you are wise, dearest. Some of the strictest hostesses may cut you from their list, but that must be accepted. We cannot reverse what has happened to you, Jane, but if you act properly it is my belief that most will think you a heroine. This will be our last engagement in town, for we shall go down to Bath the day after tomorrow. I have many friends there and I assure you, you will not be ostracised there whatever happens this evening.’
‘I have no reason to be ashamed,’ Jane said, ‘yet I would not bring disgrace on you, Godmother. If we meet with criticism in Bath, I shall go home.’
‘Do you imagine that anyone who cut you would remain my friend?’ Lady Mary looked affronted. ‘You are very precious to me, dearest. I shall support you to the last. Indeed, those who malign you do so at their peril. I am not without influence and I should use it in your support. Some might find themselves being excluded from certain circles.’
Jane’s eyes felt damp. It meant everything to have her godmother’s staunch support, because she knew that girls in similar cases had been rushed abroad by their embarrassed families or forced into a convenient marriage—some might even be sent to a house of correction, though it was not their fault.
Her throat caught as she remembered the quarrel she had heard between Andrew and Lord George. If her hot-tempered brother had not denied him, she might never have known anything about his gallant offer. He would most certainly have disguised his reasons for asking her and she might well have accepted his offer of marriage.
Jane was aware of a deep searing regret. How happy she might have been had Lord George truly wished to marry her for his own sake.
Forcing the regret to a tiny corner of her mind, Jane prepared for the evening ahead. She had been quite popular at the dances they attended, sitting out only a few times. This evening she might discover that she had far fewer friends than she believed.
* * *
Lady Astley welcomed them to her house, giving no sign that she had heard any gossip concerning Jane. Moving on into the crowded reception rooms, Jane felt a fluttering in her stomach. She sensed that most eyes in the room were upon her and for a moment it seemed that a hush descended. Her nails curled into the palms of her hands as the hush was replaced by a buzz of voices and she heard some of the whispers as she passed by.
‘An elopement gone wrong, do you think?’ one woman said in a slightly too-loud voice, only to be shushed by her husband.
‘I heard she was abducted and escaped from the rogues without assistance,’ a gentleman told his wife. ‘In my opinion, Jane Lanchester is a very brave young lady.’
‘I should not dare to show my face in public if such a thing had happened to me…’
‘It shows great resilience on her part…’
Jane managed to keep a show of unconcern on her face. Lady Mary stopped to speak to some friends and Jane smiled, inclining her head in response to enquiries about her health.
‘I am very well, thank you, ma’am,’ Jane replied with dignity. ‘I was a little frightened, but quite unharmed.’
‘Then it is true? You were abducted?’ The lady seemed astonished that she was prepared to admit it.
‘I believe I must have been mistaken for an heiress,’ Jane said in a calm clear voice that people standing nearby could hear. ‘My brother was asked for an impossible ransom, but I was able to escape and he was not forced to ruin himself for my sake.’
‘Oh, I say, bravo, Miss Lanchester,’ Sir Tobin Marshall said and clapped his hands. ‘May I hope that you will grant me the favour of two dances this evening? I should like to hear more of your remarkable adventures. It is the duty of all gentlemen to stand up to these rogues and see they pay the price for such infamy.’
‘I could not agree more,’ a voice that made Jane’s pulses race joined in. ‘You will please save two dances for me, Miss Lanchester.’
Jane glanced at Lord George. His smile was warm and approving and she felt relieved. He was not angry with her. She handed her card to Sir Tobin and then to Lord George, feeling grateful for their kindness. Their outspoken support had brought a small queue of gentlemen to request a dance and it was not long before at least two-thirds of her card was filled.
‘Thank you for helping to rescue me,’ Jane said as she danced with Lord George later. ‘I was not sure you would be here this evening—and I thought you might be angry with me. I believe I was a little abrupt with you the other night.’
‘I have no reason to be angry with you,’ George said and it seemed to her that his eyes held a smile for her alone. ‘Your brother was just in his anger against me, Jane. I understood his feelings—and yours—but you must know in your heart that I did not speak out of duty.’
‘You did not?’ Jane’s heart raced. ‘I thought…’ Her cheeks were warm and her heart was racing wildly. ‘May I ask why you did speak, sir?’
‘That is a matter for private discussion,’ George said. ‘If I called on you at eleven tomorrow morning, would you grant me a few minutes of your time?’
Jane hesitated, then inclined her head. ‘Yes, sir. I should be happy to do so.’
‘Then we shall continue our discussion tomorrow. This evening you must dance with everyone and give the gossips no reason for spite, Jane. I would not have you feel coerced in any way.’
* * *
‘Thank you.’ She gave him a tremulous smile. It was quite foolish of her, but her eyes pricked with tears. ‘Lady Mary thought I might be ostracised this evening, but we believed it a risk worth taking.’
‘Your godmother is a very wise lady,’ George said. ‘You have done nothing to be ashamed of, Jane. I think you as courageous as you are beautiful.’
‘I would not think of myself as either brave or beautiful,’ Jane said and laughed. ‘Attractive, perhaps—but I am not a beauty.’
‘You must let me be the judge,’ George said. ‘I am persuaded you are not in the habit of looking much in the mirror. Your eyes reach into a man’s soul, Jane.’
Jane was lost for words, her cheeks warm. The music ended then and she glanced at him shyly as he returned her to her aunt. Almost immediately, she was claimed by another partner. George left her to join a party of friends, many of them gentlemen who had asked her for a dance earlier.
* * *
As the evening progressed, Jane was aware of coolness from more than one lady present, though the gentlemen seemed universally on her side. She was not allowed to sit out one dance, and at supper she and Lady Mary were surrounded by gentlemen. One or two of their closest female friends joined the party.
Jane danced again with Lord George. Afterwards, he kissed her hand and reminded her of their appointment the next day.
* * *
Lady Mary had nodded her head, but made no comment until they were in the carriage being driven home later that evening.
‘Well, it all seemed to go very well, dearest. Better than we might have hoped, which was due to Sir Tobin and Lord George to a great degree.’
‘Both gentlemen were very kind, Godmother.’
‘Yes, indeed. However, I think your honesty and deportment had much to do with it, Jane. One lady told me that she had been inclined to think there was some truth in the rumour of an elopement, but this evening she realised that you were too sensible a gal to behave so recklessly. And I had a message from one of the prince’s aides, telling me that we are both invited to visit Carlton House when we return to London.’
‘How kind of his Royal Highness—and your friend.’ Jane smiled. ‘You speak of my bravery, Godmother, but you also took a risk. You could have lost a great deal by being seen to condone my shame.’
‘I did not consider it,’ Lady Mary said not quite truthfully.
‘I can only thank you,’ Jan
e said and waited. Her godmother made no further comment. ‘Lord George is to call on me in the morning.’
‘Is he, my dear? He will wish to say goodbye before we leave town, I dare say.’ A little smile touched Lady Mary’s mouth, but she said no more.
Jane smiled and leaned back against the squabs. Her godmother was resisting the question and her tact was appreciated. Jane believed that she might have some news for Lady Mary after the visit, but it would be immodest to speak before she was certain.
She yawned behind her hand. ‘I believe I shall sleep very well tonight. I am exhausted by all that dancing.’
‘I have not danced, but I believe I shall rest tonight,’ Lady Mary agreed and touched her hand. ‘You know that all I want is your happiness, my dear. I would not persuade you to anything you did not want.’
* * *
Jane dressed in a simple but elegant grey silk gown. She fastened a large cameo brooch at her throat and touched her hair, which was caught up in a knot at her nape. Her hands fluttered nervously. Supposing she had been mistaken? Supposing Lord George did not truly care for her? Yet he knew her feelings. He would not ask her again simply out of duty, surely?
The longcase clock in the hall was striking a quarter to the hour. She took a deep breath and went downstairs to the front parlour. Picking up a book of her favourite poems, she tried to read a few lines, but found it impossible. After that dreadful scene when she interrupted a quarrel between her brother and Lord George, she had thought all her hopes at an end, but now…
‘Miss Lanchester.’ The housekeeper’s words broke into her thoughts. ‘A gentleman to see you—Lord George?’
‘Yes, I am expecting Lord George,’ Jane replied and rose to her feet, clasping her hands before her. ‘Please show him in.’
‘Yes, miss.’
Jane breathed deeply as the housekeeper went away. She was so very nervous!
In another moment Lord George walked into the room. He looked extremely elegant, his cravat arranged in an elegant waterfall, his blue coat moulded to his shoulders and his breeches a delicate shade of cream. Her gaze flew to his face and the look she saw there made her heart pound. She looked down, studying the shine on his boots.
