“There’s nothing to say, Upton. It’s over. We needn’t mention it ever again.”
His eyes were wide as he turned to look at her. “Needn’t mention it again? Did it mean so little to you? Do you do that sort of thing often?”
Indignation flooded through her. She stopped plucking at her gown. Her hands turned into fists along the tops of her thighs. “You’re questioning me? I am not the one who should have to answer for my behavior. I’m not the one who brought his mistress to a wedding!”
Upton’s face contorted with amazement. “My what?”
Based on his reaction, Jane immediately had her doubts, but she’d already said the vile word and she wasn’t about to back down. “You heard me. Your mistress.”
He sat up straight and leaned closer to her, his face still registering disbelief. “Who, pray tell, do you believe is my mistress?”
She turned her face away and sniffed. “Don’t insult my intelligence, Upton.”
“I would never dream of it,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Then you know I mean Mrs. Langford,” she replied through equally clenched teeth.
“I can assure you, Mrs. Langford is unequivocally not my mistress. I do not have a mistress. It’s not my style, but if it was, I certainly wouldn’t dishonor the widow of my deceased friend by making her my mistress. And I would never dishonor Cassandra and Swifdon by inviting a light o’ love to their wedding. Have you gone mad?”
Jane snapped her mouth shut. He sounded so convincing. Could she have made a mistake? Oh, God. Of course she could have. “But Mrs. Langford said…”
“She said she was my mistress?” Surprise tinged his voice.
“Not precisely, but she implied … She said you were ‘quite close.’”
Upton pinched the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes, and shook his head. “Look, Jane, I admit Isabella seems to be interested in me, and she’s been quite rude to you, but she is not now nor has she ever been my mistress.”
“So, I’m the only woman you’ve kissed at this house party?” The words sounded ridiculous as soon as they left her mouth but she truly wanted to know the answer.
His laugh was a short, wry chuckle. “The one and only. Despite what you think of me and my reputation, I don’t make a habit of passionate interludes with ladies at my friends’ house parties. You were stunningly beautiful that night. To be entirely candid, I’ve dreamed about it since.”
The air left Jane’s body in a whoosh. Stunningly beautiful? Dreamed about it? Her hands trembled in her lap where she’d resumed the plucking of her skirts. Perfect. Now in addition to her legs, her hands were trembling. This had to be the precursor to apoplexy. His words reverberated throughout her body. Dreamed about it since. Oh, God. She’d dreamed about it too.
Stunningly beautiful. Those two words played in Jane’s head like a song. She opened her mouth to speak and closed it again. She opened it and closed it once more.
“I hope you’re proud of yourself, Upton,” she finally managed. “You’ve done the impossible. You’ve rendered me speechless. What do you think of that?”
He turned his head and flashed her a grin. “That is a good start, but the more serious question is, what are we going to do about the fact that we kissed each other? I must confess, I enjoyed it immensely. I know you did too. You wouldn’t let me stop, after all. So the more important question is … when are we going to do it again?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Garrett arrived at the stables the next morning exactly as planned. It was bloody early for an outing, but he’d agreed to this at dinner last night when Cassandra had suggested they all go for a ride. A dozen or so of the party guests were already wandering around the stables by the time he strolled into the large building.
There had been no nightmares last night. He hadn’t slept. Instead, he’d spent the night thinking about his confrontation with Jane. What had he expected to come of it? He couldn’t answer that. He’d only known he had to confront her to see if he could detect any sign of her supposed love for him. He’d seen nothing other than shock, which made him wonder if it were true.
Garrett admired Jane for matter-of-factly admitting to being Lady Blue. She hadn’t said anything when he’d asked her when they would do it again. He’d been half jesting, half trying to determine if she did, indeed, have strong feelings for him. Jane had announced she had to get to bed and then she’d nearly flown from the room. Frankly, the entire evening had left Garrett more confused than before.
Jane was in the stables already. She stood with Cassandra and Lucy, wearing a blue riding habit that did little for her figure. It didn’t matter. Her figure was burned in his brain.
A loud laugh drew his attention to the right. Mrs. Langford came strolling toward him. “Mr. Upton, there you are.”
He squared his shoulders and turned to face her. Isabella had been rude to Jane yesterday. Jane could more than take care of herself, but he refused to allow Isabella to imply to his friends there may be something indecent between them. Whatever she’d said, it had been enough for Jane to draw the conclusion that Isabella was his mistress. Guilt or no, he refused to allow that misconception to continue.
“Good morning, Mrs. Langford.” He gave her a tight smile.
She wore a smart emerald-green riding habit that hugged her every curve. Why was Jane’s frumpy one making his breeches tight? He looked back at Jane. She turned away. He let out his breath and forced himself to turn back to Isabella. Extracting himself from her company this morning would be difficult.
“Where are we riding to?” Isabella slid a gloved hand over his arm.
“I believe we’re riding to the church in the village and back.” Garrett could not resist glancing back at Jane again, who was absorbed in conversation with her friends.
“Sounds delightful,” Isabella replied. “I do hope you’ll help me mount.” She looked into his eyes. He didn’t like the way she had said the word “mount.” Garrett turned his attention to where the stable boys and grooms were preparing the horses. “Isn’t that your footman?”
A scowl flitted across Isabella’s face. “Oh, Boris, that dolt. I’d much rather have you assist me, Mr. Upton.” She batted her eyelashes at him. There was no mistaking the invitation in the depths of her pale green eyes.
He cleared his throat. “Very well.”
The team of grooms and stable boys began helping the ladies to mount. When Garrett looked again, Boris was gone. Garrett pasted on a smile and helped Isabella onto the frisky gray filly Cassandra had provided for her. He swung himself up onto his own mount. By the time he finished, Jane was already seated atop her own high-stepping filly. She had a smile on her face and the sunlight glinted off her spectacles. Was her hair looser in the knot today? She was lovely—frumpy riding habit notwithstanding.
Surprisingly, Isabella waited for Jane to come alongside them before she nudged her own mount into a trot. “Do you ride often, Miss Lowndes?”
“Not as often as I should, Mrs. Langford.”
“Good morning, Miss Lowndes,” Garrett interjected, feeling like an utter arse. Why was Isabella always near when he was trying to speak with Jane?
“Good morning, Mr. Upton.” Jane lifted her reins as if to make to move past the two of them, but Isabella stopped Jane with her words.
“Do you ride often enough to race, Miss Lowndes?”
Jane blinked. She let the reins settle back against the saddle. She turned her head to the side. “Race you, Mrs. Langford?”
“Yes,” came Isabella’s overconfident reply.
Garrett tightened his grip on his own reins. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Jane couldn’t say no to a challenge, especially not from someone she disliked.
“I’m not sure—” Garrett began.
“Do you ride often, Mrs. Langford?” Jane pursed her lips and regarded Mrs. Langford over the top of her spectacles.
Isabella’s smug laughter followed. “On the contrary, I rarely ride.
But something tells me I could best you, Miss Lowndes. You seem more interested in books than horses.”
Garrett winced. There was no chance Jane wouldn’t scoop up Isabella’s gauntlet and slap her with it.
“By all means, then.” The gleam of competition shone in Jane’s eyes. “I’m eager to show you how wrong you are. Where shall we race to?”
Garrett rubbed the back of his neck. Jane wasn’t about to listen to reason coming from him. Excusing himself, he rode to where Lucy was trotting ahead of Cassandra, Claringdon, and Swifdon. “Jane’s accepted a challenge to race Mrs. Langford.”
Lucy’s brows shot up. “Has she?” A sly smile settled on her face.
“Yes,” Garrett replied grimly.
“Excellent, we’ll have something to divert us,” Lucy said.
Garrett pushed his hat back on his forehead. “You think it’s a good idea?”
“I don’t see why not. I’ll be interested to see it. Jane never loses at anything she sets her mind to.”
Garrett groaned. “You don’t plan to stop her, then?”
“Stop her?” Lucy laughed. “I intend to wager upon her.”
Garrett shook his head. By the time he returned to where Jane and Isabella cantered next to each other, they were busily discussing the details.
“See that field in the distance?” Jane pointed to a meadow a half-mile away.
A quick single nod from Isabella. “Yes.”
“Shall we race to the other side of it? There’s a tree at the far end. Do you see it?”
Garrett followed Jane’s gaze. A lone tree stood at the far corner of the field.
Another nod from Isabella.
“That shall be the finish,” Jane declared.
“Perfect.” Isabella’s face was wreathed in a smile. She turned in the sidesaddle and called to the group. “You must all stop and watch us, everyone! Miss Lowndes and I intend to race to that tree.” She pointed with her riding crop.
A great deal of murmuring ensued while Lucy led the betting. The entire company lined up along the side of the meadow.
“Make the call to start, Mr. Upton,” Isabella prompted with a too bright smile.
Removing his hat, Garrett scrubbed his hand through his hair. He turned his attention to Jane. “You insist upon doing this?”
“Of course,” Jane replied.
Garrett let out his pent-up breath. “Very well.”
Claringdon drew up his mount beside Garrett. “One has the distinct feeling they’re racing over you, Upton.”
Garrett grimaced. “Two ladies racing sidesaddle across a field? It’s bloody dangerous.”
Claringdon grinned at him. “Quite. Who do you think will win? The horseflesh appears to be evenly matched, but I’ve got five pounds on Jane.”
Garrett didn’t answer. He turned back to the two ladies, who had brought their mounts to the head of the field.
“When I drop my arm, you may go,” Garrett called, raising his right arm high in the air.
Jane was bent low over her horse’s neck, whispering to the beast, a determined gleam in her eye. Isabella, however, seemed completely relaxed, nearly disinterested. She, too, had a gleam in her eye, but it looked more wicked than determined.
Garrett lifted his chin. So be it. If they were set on doing this, they might as well get it over with and get on with the day. “On your mark … set … go.” His arm slashed downward. Jane kicked her mount with her booted heel and slapped the crop against the horse’s flank. Isabella made a show of kicking and slapping, too, but she didn’t go nearly as quickly. Jane was already three full lengths ahead of her across the field.
Garrett exchanged an exasperated look with Lucy and Cassandra. He shaded his eyes to watch Jane’s progress. She was galloping as if the devil chased her. Her horse’s hooves pounded the grass and kicked up tufts of dirt and leaves. She improved her lead by another length.
She’d made it three quarters of the length across the field when her saddle tilted crazily to the side and she flew off into the high grass.
“No!” Garrett kicked his mount into a gallop and made straight for Jane. His heart raced in a frantic rhythm along with his horse’s thundering hooves. He slowed to a stop just before the spot where he’d last seen Jane and vaulted to the ground, frantically searching for her in the tall grass. Her horse had trotted off but remained grazing nearby.
“Jane. Jane!”
A low groan caught his attention and he whirled around. She was lying in the grass, her leg bent at an unnatural angle. Her eyes were closed. God, please don’t let her die.
He lunged toward her and fell to his knees beside her. Her face was turned to the side, a large dirt smudge was smeared across her cheek, and her spectacles were nowhere to be seen.
Mrs. Langford’s mount galloped to a halt next to them. “Is she all right?” came Isabella’s breathless voice.
Garrett put his fingers to the pulse in Jane’s neck. It was there, thank Christ. “I don’t know,” he replied through clenched teeth.
Lucy, Cassandra, Swifdon, and a few others arrived moments later. They dismounted and hovered in a circle around Jane while Garrett cradled her head in his lap. “Derek’s gone to the village to fetch the doctor,” Cassandra said.
Garrett nodded. Nothing else seemed out of place, but Jane’s leg was surely hurt. Her ankle was already bruised and swelling. He leaned down and pressed his ear to her lips.
“She’s breathing,” he announced. A collective sigh went up among them.
He stroked her cheek. “Miss Lowndes.” He leaned closer. “Jane.” She looked so helpless and vulnerable. And so pretty without her glasses. Just like the night he’d kissed her. Her hair had come askew out of her topknot. He traced her cheekbone with his fingertips, heedless of what the others might think. Seeing her silent and helpless and hurt brought out a fierce protective streak in him. One he hadn’t known he possessed.
“Jane,” he whispered again. Her eyes fluttered open and regarded him with their usual dark, sparkling intelligence.
“Garrett?”
Something stirred deep in Garrett’s belly when she called him by his Christian name.
“Yes, it’s me,” he replied softly, pulling a bit of grass from her hair and tossing it aside.
She made as if to sit up but winced and lay back down.
“Stay still. Claringdon’s gone to fetch the doctor.”
Jane smiled and let her head rest in his lap again. “Upton?” she asked softly.
He bent to hear her. “Yes, Jane?”
Her voice was a croak. “Did I win?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Later that afternoon, Jane sat propped up in bed with her foot on a pillow. She could boast a small lump on the back of her head, but it only hurt when she touched it. She also had a painful twist of her ankle, but the maids brought cold compresses to wrap it, and Lucy brought her hot buttered rum.
Jane stared at the bright white blur that was her stockinged foot. Without her spectacles, she couldn’t read. Regardless, resting comfortably in bed was much preferable to house party outings. The doctor had informed her she’d most likely be able to walk after a day or two, assuring her she could attend the wedding.
A knock sounded on her bedchamber door, and Jane stretched and yawned. It was high time for her afternoon nap. “Who is it?”
The door opened and shut and the dark blur of a man strode toward her. She gasped and pulled the covers to her neck. “Sir, who are you?”
Garrett’s laughter followed. “You don’t recognize me?”
It was Upton? What was he doing here? “I don’t have my spectacles,” she admitted sheepishly, “but you shouldn’t be in here. It’s shamelessly inappropriate.”
It was better this way, without her spectacles. If she couldn’t see how handsome he was, she was much less likely to fantasize about kissing him again, and that was good for everyone. Ever since he’d adamantly and convincingly denied that Mrs. Langford was his mistress and then
called Jane stunningly beautiful, well, that in itself had been a bit irresistible. But it had really been too much when he’d asked her when—not if—they would repeat their interlude in the drawing room. The fact was she’d been distracted by that thought far too much since he’d said it.
Upton’s laughter was warm and genuine. “I like that, the perpetrator of the Mrs. Bunbury plot telling me what is shamelessly inappropriate. I had to come see how you’re doing, didn’t I?”
Jane continued to clutch at the covers. “But I’m in my night rail.”
“Yes. I saw a bit of it unfortunately. It’s a night rail that looks like something my grandmama would wear and you have blankets up to your neck on top of that. I have absolutely no hope of catching so much as a glimpse of your skin.”
She had to laugh. He was right. The frothy lace of her long night rail was anything but revealing. She pushed the covers back down to her waist and nestled back against the pillows. “You are shameless, Upton. Don’t allow anyone to ever tell you differently.”
“Duly noted,” he replied. “Where are your spectacles?” He sounded nearly … caring.
Jane sighed. “I’m afraid they were hopelessly bent. Cass has sent to London to fetch me another pair.”
“You look … pretty without your glasses.” He cleared his throat. “Quite pretty.”
Heavens. Had Upton just called her pretty? Quite pretty?
“How is your ankle?” he asked. She could see enough of his blurry form to know he’d pulled a chair close to the edge of her bed and taken a seat.
“Twisted. And sore. Lady Moreland offered me a bowl of cream as if I were a cat. I told her I’d be ever so much more interested in a teacake. I suppose I should consider it a victory as long as she doesn’t send a servant with a bit of salmon. Mrs. Cat would love a bit of salmon.”
“Who is Mrs. Cat?”
“A cat. Not my cat. I don’t own a cat. She’s just a cat I feed sometimes.”
The flash of his white teeth was unmistakable. “I hate to tell you this but if you’re feeding her, she’s your cat.”
“No. She’s not. I’m certain of it.”
The Unlikely Lady Page 14
