If you are reading this, the worst has happened. We’ve shared many awful days together, my friend, and there’s no one else I’d rather die next to. You’re a good patriot, a good soldier, and a good man. If you find your way home, please take care of Isabella and the children. That is my dying wish. I could think of no better man to be in my stead. I must know that my family is taken care of. Always. They mean everything to me. I know you will do right by them. You have my eternal thanks.
Yours,
C. H. Langford
Garrett rubbed his thumb across Harold’s familiar signature. He still missed him. He folded the letter and slid it into his inside coat pocket, pressing it against his shoulder. A crushing weight settled over him as the import of the words he’d read hit him square in the chest. Harold had wanted Garrett to take care of his family.
Why in the hell hadn’t Isabella given him this letter long before now?
“There’s something else,” Isabella whispered.
“What is it?” Garrett had asked quietly.
Isabella took a deep breath. “I am with child.”
Garrett’s brows snapped together and his head jerked up to face her. “What?”
She pressed a handkerchief against her nose. Her eyes filled with tears. “I’ll be ruined if I don’t marry quickly.”
Garrett stepped closer to her and searched her face for the truth. “You weren’t planning on telling me that before now? What about the baby’s father?”
“I’m sorry, Garrett. I’m desperate. I don’t know where to turn. The baby’s father is not in a position to marry me, and I wouldn’t have him if he was.” She turned away abruptly on a sob, pressing the handkerchief to her mouth.
“Isabella, I—”
Her voice shook with her tears. “The children and I will be outcasts. We’ll have to leave London.” She turned and dropped to her knees in front of him. “Garrett, you must save us. We need you. Please.”
The import of her words pressed on Garrett’s stomach. He felt as if he were going to retch. Isabella was asking him to make the ultimate commitment to ensure she and the children were taken care of for good, safe from scandal.
His thoughts turned to Jane. Did he love Jane? Yes. But Jane obviously wanted nothing to do with him. Despite what Cass had told him, Jane didn’t love him back. What sort of man of honor would he be if he ignored this letter from the grave? Turned Isabella away? Let her family fall to ruin? Even if he continued to provide them with an income, they would be treated like outcasts. Harold’s children would have no hope of good futures.
Sometimes, what you wanted to do and what you should do were two entirely different things.
He helped Isabella up to sit next to him on the settee. “Why are you just giving me this letter now?”
Isabella cast her gaze toward the floor. She seemed so sad and small and vulnerable. “At first, I needed time to grieve. I spent years in disbelief. I know it sounds senseless, but I actually believed Harold might walk through the door one day.”
Garrett nodded grimly. “That must have been hell for you. I’m sorry.”
She looked up at him. “I know you don’t love me. I know it’s an enormous thing to ask you to raise another man’s children, but we could be happy together. Our feelings might develop, over time.”
Garrett watched her carefully. Isabella wasn’t stupid. There would be no false pretenses between them. Successful marriages had been based on far less than a promise to a friend to whom one owed one’s very life.
Garrett grimaced. The parson’s noose tightened around his neck.
* * *
Garrett’s meeting with Isabella had been several hours ago, and after three brandies at the club, marriage to her still didn’t sound like a good idea. He’d have to drink fifty bloody brandies to wrap his mind around it. He hadn’t given her an answer, yet, but it was hardly something he could think about for weeks. She was with child and the sooner a marriage took place the better for her reputation. But there was something else to consider. If the child was a boy, he would be named Garrett’s heir, the future Earl of Upbridge. However, if Harold Langford hadn’t saved his life, the title would have gone out of the family, to a distant cousin, and there was always the chance the child would be a girl.
“Upton, there you are. I thought I might find you here this afternoon.”
Garrett looked up to see Derek Hunt and Rafe Cavendish making their way toward him. He stood to greet them. “Claringdon, Cavendish, good to see you.”
“A bit early in the day for a drink, don’t you think?” Claringdon asked as soon as he was close enough to spot Garrett’s brandy.
“I’m not certain that’s possible,” Rafe added.
Garrett grinned. He’d always liked that Cavendish.
“You should listen to the lad, Claringdon. Care to join me for a drink?” He turned to Rafe. “I didn’t know you were a member here, Cavendish.”
Rafe flashed his own grin. “I’m not. Just taking advantage of my influential friend here.” He clapped Claringdon on the back.
“Welcome,” Garrett replied, gesturing to the seats near him.
The other two men sat while Garrett returned his attention to his brandy.
Claringdon relaxed against his seat and crossed one booted foot over the opposite knee. “There’s something I need to tell you, Upton. It involves Lucy and—”
Garrett groaned. Setting his drink on the table next to him, he dropped his forehead into his hands. “If it involves Lucy, it’s going to be messy, isn’t it?”
“A bit,” Claringdon replied, tugging at his cuff.
Rafe had busied himself ordering a drink of his own from a passing footman.
Garrett straightened up and took another swig. “Out with it then, Claringdon.”
“Lucy informed me last night that she and Cass were up to something at the house party,” Claringdon said.
Garrett waved away his words. “If this involves Mrs. Bunbury, I—”
Claringdon shook his head. “It’s not that. Apparently, Lucy and Cass thought it would be a good idea if they both”—Claringdon winced—“if they told you Jane was in love with you and told Jane you were in love with her.”
Rafe Cavendish whistled. “Now that is up to something.”
Garrett’s stomach dropped. He squeezed his glass. “What do you mean?”
Claringdon wiped a hand across his brow. “Did Cassandra tell you Jane was in love with you?”
Garrett’s throat went dry. “Yes.”
“Lucy told Jane you were in love with her,” Claringdon continued.
The room spun. Garrett clutched at the arm of his chair. “What in the devil are you talking about?”
“I’m deuced sorry to say it,” Claringdon continued, “but apparently, they became convinced you and Jane were perfect for each other and set about their plan in a misguided attempt at matchmaking.”
Garrett clenched his jaw. “My God. It was never true? Any of it?” he whispered.
“Afraid not.”
The footman returned with the brandies just then, and Rafe, good chap that he was, had the decency to remain silent and sip his drink.
Garrett’s mind raced. What did this mean? Not only did Jane not love him, but she had been under the mistaken impression he had been in love with her? If she’d been told around the same time he’d been told, that would have been before the picnic at the house party. What the hell had Lucy and Cass been thinking?
“Does Jane know?” Garrett swallowed the lump that had unexpectedly formed in his throat.
“Yes,” Claringdon said. “Lucy intends to tell her today. I doubt Jane will be pleased.”
“The feeling is mutual.” Garrett pressed the back of his hand against the throbbing pain in his head.
“At the risk of offending you, Your Grace,” Rafe interjected, “it sounds as if you’ve got your hands full with your new duchess.”
Claringdon’s mouth quirked up in a half-smile. “You don’t kno
w the half of it, Cavendish.” He settled back in his chair and steepled his fingers over his middle. “That’s it, Upton. I thought you should know.”
Garrett closed his eyes briefly. “Thank you for telling me, Claringdon. I assume Lucy sent you so she wouldn’t have to face my wrath.”
Claringdon inclined his head. “Something like that. She also had the nerve to ask me to tell you she still believes you and Jane make a fine couple and you should seriously consider marrying her.”
Garrett’s throat tightened. “It’s too late.” He shook his head and stared, unseeing, into the fireplace across the room. “You must congratulate me, fellows. I have just decided to marry Isabella Langford.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
“But Lucy told me specifically that you adore Much Ado About Nothing and you would certainly agree to accompany me,” Daphne Swift said the next afternoon as she and Jane took a turn around Jane’s parents’ garden. Jane would have preferred a stroll through the park, but considering how gossip about her behavior at the wedding house party was spreading through town, she thought better of such an outing today. It was only a matter of time before her mother found out. And possibly dismissed Mrs. Bunbury. Which was ridiculous, of course, but entirely probable.
“Please, Jane,” Daphne continued. “It’s been so dreadfully dull since Cass and Julian left on their honeymoon. I’ve nothing to entertain me.”
Jane gave her a sideways stare and pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. “What about Captain Cavendish? He looked as if he were entertaining you at the wedding ball.”
Daphne pushed her small nose in the air. “Captain Cavendish makes me more angry than entertained. The man drives me quite mad.”
“I know the feeling,” Jane said on a sigh. When Lucy had informed Jane this morning that Upton would be announcing his engagement to Mrs. Langford, she’d done an admirable job of taking the news in stride. It was true she’d briefly lost her mind and fancied herself in love with the man, but after his quick defection to Mrs. Langford, he was no longer someone she even bothered thinking about … mostly.
It was her own fault, really, not Upton’s. Upton had never made her any promises. He’d never pretended to be anything other than who he was. If Lucy couldn’t change her ways, neither could her cousin. Jane never should have believed for one moment the man wasn’t a rake. While Lucy seemed convinced Garrett had somehow been forced into proposing to Mrs. Langford, Jane knew better. She’d seen Garrett’s attraction to the widow with her own eyes. God help her.
“I do adore Much Ado About Nothing, Daphne, but I cannot go with you to the theater. My reputation is in shreds. I’m sure to be treated like persona non grata were I to attend.”
“Oh, fiddle. You’ll be with me and no one will dare cut you. Not to mention you have the backing of the Countess of Swifdon and the Duchess of Claringdon as well.”
“But Lucy and Cass won’t be with me.”
Daphne threaded her arm over Jane’s. “No, but I will, and I’ll make Mother come, too, if it’ll help.”
Jane laughed. “There’s no need to drag your poor mother into it.”
“Please, Jane. Please come with me.”
Unwinding her arm from Daphne’s, Jane bent to pluck a violet from the path next to their feet. “I don’t know.” She smiled up at Daphne. “I’m still miffed at you for your part in all this, you know. Lucy told me she recruited you.”
Daphne returned her smile. “I can only plead that Lucy Hunt can be quite convincing when she wants to be. She told me I’d be doing you a favor to keep Mrs. Langford occupied.”
Jane stood and twirled the violet between her fingers. “Hmm. That part was true, actually. Perhaps I shouldn’t be miffed at you at all.”
“That’s right.” Daphne nodded happily and the two resumed their stroll. “If you don’t come to the theater tonight for yourself, do it for me.”
Jane blinked. “For you?”
A soft pink blush crept over Daphne’s cheeks. “I heard Captain Cavendish will be at the performance tonight and I…” Daphne bit her lip and glanced away.
Jane arched her brow. “Aren’t quite as indifferent to him as you’d like everyone to believe?”
Daphne shook her head and gave a miserable shrug. “Including myself.”
* * *
That night, Jane sat in the Earl of Swifdon’s box at the theater with Daphne Swift at her side. She could feel the disapproving eyes of the ton staring at her from the other boxes.
“At least a dozen sets of quizzing glasses are trained in our direction,” Jane said, wanting to slink back into the shadows.
“Ignore them,” Daphne replied. “Those awful people. If anyone has anything to say about you, they’ll have to say it to me first.” She nodded firmly.
Daphne fluttered her hand in the air. “Let’s talk about something ever so much more pleasant, like how lovely you look this evening.” She turned to give Jane a once-over. “Your hair is different, isn’t it?”
“Thank you.” Jane self-consciously pushed a curl away from her cheek. She’d asked Eloise to arrange her hair in a chignon tonight, not unlike the one she’d worn at the masquerade ball. She’d grown a bit tired of the severe topknot.
“And your gown,” Daphne continued. “It’s … not blue.”
Jane smoothed a hand down her pink dress. It was the softest shade of blush. She’d allowed Mama to purchase it, which that lady had done with great glee. Now Jane was feeling awkward. Blue felt like armor. Pink? Pink felt like … naked skin. “Thank you,” she murmured. “I thought I’d try another color for a change.”
“It suits you. You look beautiful. That’s probably why the quizzing glasses are trained our way. They’re all positively green with envy.”
Jane had to smile, though she also had to severely doubt it.
Daphne craned her neck to see out the side of the box. “Look, it’s Captain Cavendish. He’s only a few boxes down.”
Jane nudged Daphne with her elbow. “Go over and say good evening.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Daphne sat back down and pressed her hand to her throat. “If he doesn’t have the good grace to come and greet me, then I intend to completely ignore him.”
“You came here specifically to speak to him,” Jane pointed out.
“No.” Daphne shook her head and her blond curls bobbed. “I came to be seen by him. That’s quite different from speaking to him.”
“That makes no sense at all.”
The curtain behind them ruffled and Lord Berkeley poked in his head. “Lady Daphne, Miss Lowndes, may we come in?” the viscount asked.
Jane smiled widely at him. Lord Christian Berkeley was a friend of Lucy’s, well, Garrett’s really. In Bath last summer, Lord Berkeley had briefly and unsuccessfully attempted to court Lucy, but they remained friends. Berkeley had even made an appearance at last autumn’s house party where Cass had pretended to be Patience Bunbury. Berkeley was a good man and a tremendous sport.
“Lord Berkeley! Of course, do come in,” Jane replied.
Lord Berkeley strode in with Garrett Upton behind him.
Jane sucked in her breath and concentrated on calming her pitter-pattering heart. She should have known Garrett would be with Berkeley. Garrett hadn’t looked at her. She stared down at her slippers.
“Lord Berkeley, Mr. Upton,” came Daphne’s bright voice. “It’s ever so good to see you. I didn’t realize you were at the theater tonight.”
“Upton, here, cannot resist a performance of Much Ado About Nothing,” Berkeley replied with a laugh. “As soon as I saw you two lovely ladies, I told him we had to come and greet you.”
“Funny.” Jane kept her eyes trained on Lord Berkeley. “I had the impression Much Ado About Nothing is Upton’s least favorite of Shakespeare’s plays.”
“No. That would be Romeo and Juliet,” Upton bit back.
“A close second then, is it not?” Jane replied with a tight smile.
Lord Berkeley w
aded into the deafening silence. “I rarely come to town, you know, and when I do, I always enjoy the theater.”
“Then you must come more often, my lord,” Daphne replied.
“As it is I don’t plan to stay the entire Season. I’m returning to Northumberland in a few weeks’ time and plan to spend the autumn and winter at my hunting lodge in Scotland.”
“That sounds dreadfully remote,” Jane said.
“And cold,” Daphne added.
“It is both,” Lord Berkeley agreed. “And that’s exactly why I enjoy it.”
“Lord Berkeley,” Daphne said. “I am just now about to go in search of Captain Cavendish. Have you seen him this evening?”
“I believe he’s in Lord Mountbank’s box.”
“Would you escort me there, please?”
Jane squeezed her reticule so tightly her fingers ached. Now Daphne wanted to leave? “Daphne, I don’t think—”
“You don’t mind keeping Mr. Upton company, do you, Jane? Whilst we visit Captain Cavendish? Please?” For a moment Jane wondered if she was helping Daphne or if Daphne was tricking her into spending time with Upton. At any rate, it would be beyond rude to say that she minded. Instead, she nodded tersely, sat back down, and faced the theater.
“Thank you for staying with Jane, Mr. Upton,” Daphne said with her usual friendly smile. “And for escorting me, Lord Berkeley.” The viscount held out his arm and Daphne wrapped her small one around it.
A moment later, the two had gone, and Jane was forced to concentrate on keeping her disobedient leg from shaking. She stared into the crowded theater completely unseeing.
“Do you mind if I sit?” came Upton’s even voice.
She turned her head slightly to the side but her gaze did not follow. “Not at all.”
“Thank you.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as Garrett pushed up his black coattails and took the seat next to hers. She couldn’t turn to face him. What could they possibly say to each other? Discussing the weather seemed asinine, and discussing the play was covered territory. What else was there? Perhaps silence was the best policy. Apparently Upton didn’t agree.
The Unlikely Lady Page 21
