The Unlikely Lady

by Valerie Bowman

“How is your ankle?”

  “Recovered, thank you.”

  “And your cat?”

  “The cat is quite well. Her kittens too.”

  “Glad to hear it.” She heard him take a deep breath. “I assume you were also told that we were duped?”

  Jane didn’t take her gaze off the far wall. “Duped?”

  “Yes, Claringdon informed me that while we were at the house party Cass told me that you fancied me while Lucy told you the same.”

  Jane nodded once. “Yes, Lucy told me.”

  Upton’s voice was unironic. “Seems I’ve finally fallen victim to my cousin’s penchant for trouble.”

  “That’s a pretty way to say ‘lies.’”

  “They were indeed lies.” He paused. “Are you angry with Lucy?”

  “Lucy cannot help herself. Any more than you can.”

  His head snapped to the side to face her. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  Jane pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. Perhaps she shouldn’t have said that. She desperately needed to change the subject. She blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “Lucy tells me you intend to marry Isabella Langford.”

  “Jane, I—”

  “I think it’s for the best. I wish you both well.”

  She took a shaky breath. She didn’t love him. He didn’t love her. So why did the thought of Garrett with Isabella make Jane sick to her stomach?

  Thankfully, Daphne and Berkeley returned then. “Captain Cavendish sends his greetings, Jane,” Daphne said.

  “I should have come with you,” Jane replied. Then I wouldn’t have had to sit here and have this excruciating conversation with Garrett.

  “Ladies, what do you have planned for the remainder of the week?” Lord Berkeley asked.

  “I intend to go shopping on Bond Street tomorrow,” Daphne announced. “But I cannot seem to convince Miss Lowndes to come with me.”

  Jane laughed. “You cannot convince me because I’d rather have my eyes gouged out with hot pokers than go shopping. Unless a bookstore is involved, of course.”

  “Is that so?” Lord Berkeley whistled. “A lady who doesn’t enjoy shopping. You are a rare find indeed, Miss Lowndes.”

  Jane tilted her head and grinned at him. “My lord? You’ve never met a bluestocking spinster before?”

  Berkeley laughed aloud at that. Then he asked, “What do you intend to do with yourself tomorrow then, Miss Lowndes?”

  “I’ve been looking for an old book. I’m going to the library to search for it. I don’t have much hope of finding it, of course, but I do intend to try.”

  “What book is it, Miss Lowndes?” Lord Berkeley asked.

  “It’s called The Art of Penmanship,” Jane replied. Surely Lord Berkeley was only being polite by asking.

  “I have it.” Upton’s reply sounded curt.

  A silence ensued.

  “Pardon?” Jane finally offered.

  “I have that book at my town house,” Upton said.

  Jane turned to face him. “You have The Art of Penmanship?”

  “Yes.”

  “Mr. Upton, I could not be more astonished,” Jane said.

  He met her eyes. “If you come to my house tomorrow, you’re welcome to borrow it.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Jane stood outside the imposing door to Upton’s town house for five entire minutes. Eloise was waiting in the coach. Jane was unable to either step forward and rap upon the door or flee back to the vehicle. Instead, she stood, hands folded, reticule dangling from her wrist, as she contemplated the possibilities. She could knock on the door and be ushered into the town house where she would simply tell Upton she’d come to borrow his book. Or, she could turn away, go back home, and pretend she’d never made this journey. Then Upton wouldn’t think she gave a fig about him or his book collection. That would show him.

  However, she wanted that book.

  Her arrival had absolutely nothing to do with seeing Garrett. Nothing at all. She was here in search of a book.

  Yes, this was strictly professional.

  She squared her shoulders and took one small step closer to the door. She rapped upon it three times and stood back, staring at it expectantly.

  The door swung open moments later and a distinguished-looking butler and two well-behaved dogs stood at attention in the entryway. Upton had dogs?

  “Yes?” the butler said, giving Jane a not unfriendly once-over.

  She cleared her throat. “I’m Miss Jane Lowndes, here to see Mr. Upton. I am borrowing a book.” The last part was completely unnecessary, but seeing as how she was an unmarried female, she felt it wise to explain she wasn’t here for some sort of mid-afternoon assignation. God only knew what sort of women arrived on Upton’s doorstep at all hours of the day and night.

  “Come in.” The butler stood aside, allowing Jane to move past him into the house. The dogs politely moved to the side as well. She studied them. They were some type of spaniel. One was red and white and the other, black and white. They looked quite handsome. Upton had never given her any indication that he owned dogs.

  She’d never been here before, actually. She used to visit Lucy at her Aunt Mary’s town house, which wasn’t far. Upton had had this particular house before his father died, and while he was often at his mother’s house, this was his main residence in London.

  The butler shut the door behind her.

  “What are their names?” she asked, gesturing toward the canines.

  “Miss?”

  “The dogs? What are their names?”

  The butler straightened to his full height, which was impressive indeed. “Dogberry and Verges, miss.”

  Jane’s eyes went wide. “Dogberry and Verges?” she echoed. “From Much Ado About Nothing?”

  “Indeed, miss.”

  Jane stared at the dogs. She couldn’t help but smile to herself.

  “Mr. Upton is not in at the moment,” the butler continued. “But he left instructions to show you to the library.”

  “He left instructions?” Jane pointed to herself. “For me?” And then, “Did you say ‘library’?”

  “Yes, miss. He specifically told me that if Miss Lowndes paid him a call, to show you to the library and inform you that he intends to return shortly.”

  Jane shook her head. She and the dogs trotted behind the butler. Upton’s house was well appointed. She would give him that. It was tastefully decorated in hues of blue and brown. Not overly stuffed or stuffy. A lovely home, actually. The butler had said “library.” That had piqued her interest. How had she never known Upton had a library?

  Where was Upton? Was he with Isabella Langford? The thought flashed across Jane’s mind without her permission. Oh, what did she care? Hopefully, she’d find the book and be gone before the scoundrel made it back from whatever degenerate pursuit he was about.

  The butler led her down a corridor and paused before great mahogany double doors. The dogs stopped and sat at attention. The servant grabbed the handles and pushed open the doors. The room beyond stole Jane’s breath.

  She walked into the large space and spun in a wide circle. Library indeed. The room was perhaps the largest she’d ever seen in a town house aside from a grand ballroom. It was deliciously, perfectly, pleasantly, rightly lined with scores and scores and scores of books. Books! Books! Books!

  Jane may have squealed. She only guessed as much because the dogs and the butler stared at her with heads cocked to the side. “Oh, I— My, I … didn’t know Mr. Upton had such a big…” She couldn’t stop staring at the rows of books.

  The butler cleared his throat and shuffled his feet. What had she been saying? Oh, yes. Books! “I had no idea Mr. Upton had such a vast collection of books.”

  “Reading is one of Mr. Upton’s favorite pastimes,” the butler added.

  Jane nearly tripped over the thick carpet she’d been traversing in order to get a better look at the contents of the room. Reading was one of Upton’s favorite pastimes?
Were they speaking of the same Mr. Upton? She hadn’t stumbled upon the home of one of Garrett’s cousins or … no, Garrett had no living male cousins. Not to mention the portrait on the far wall looked a great deal like Garrett. It must be his father. The man had passed away not very many years ago.

  “Mr. Upton enjoys reading?” she asked, strictly for clarification’s sake. Perhaps he was just someone who hoarded books or had become obsessed with collecting things. For all she knew he had a collection of dolls or tin soldiers or something equally odd elsewhere in this town house.

  “Yes, miss,” the butler replied. He shook himself as if he realized he’d already said too much about his master’s personal habits. “I’ll leave you to it. Mr. Upton says to inform you everything is alphabetized in the order of the author’s last name. Please ring if you’d like me to bring tea.”

  Jane opened her mouth to say, “That won’t be necessary,” but she took another look at the huge collection and changed her mind. She could happily die here. She’d need sustenance. She thought her father had a large collection, but nothing in her house could compare to even one small part of the literary feast in front of her.

  “Tea would be lovely, thank you.” She pulled off her gloves and unhooked her pelisse. This was going to involve some serious inspection. She might as well get started.

  “Yes, miss.” The butler bowed slightly, gathered her pelisse, and left the room. The dogs stayed with Jane.

  “This is Mr. Upton’s library?” she asked the dogs.

  The handsome animals blinked back at her.

  “Mr. Garrett Upton?”

  They merely cocked their heads to the side.

  “And you are Mr. Upton’s dogs?” she asked them. “Mr. Garrett Upton’s dogs?”

  One of the dogs was kind enough to stick out his tongue and pant a bit, which at least led Jane to believe he was listening. She turned back to the room and clasped her hands. When one was presented with one’s idea of heaven, where exactly did one begin?

  The butler returned with a tea tray. He set the elaborate service on the table in the center of the room.

  Jane pursed her lips. Only one thing would make this beyond heaven. “You don’t happen to have any teacake, do you?”

  “We do, miss. I shall be pleased to fetch some for you.” He left again and Jane had to force herself not to clap her hands. Teacakes and a giant library? She might just stay in here indefinitely and devil take Upton if he tried to forcibly remove her.

  Jane set her reticule and gloves on the side of a settee and took a deep breath. Like an athlete preparing for a sport, she needed to ready herself. She marched up to the closest wall and ran her fingers along the titles of the leather bound volumes. Alphabetical by author, he’d said. The book she wanted was written by a fellow named Brandon.

  She turned toward the far wall. She’d just pop over there and see how close she was to the Bs.

  Fifteen minutes later, Jane had eaten two teacakes and realized that finding a book in the vast expanse of Upton’s library was not nearly as simple a task as one might expect. She’d managed to narrow her search to the BRs and had climbed up a spiral staircase to the third level—third level!—in search of the book. Upton, she thought with some irony, was sorely in need of a librarian. Surely any of his friends or acquaintances who came into this room would require similar assistance. Of course, his affianced bride wouldn’t pose much trouble. The woman didn’t read. Jane doubted Upton had many copies of La Belle Assemblée tucked away in here.

  Regardless, a librarian was in order. Perhaps he’d hire Jane. She could spend all day in here sorting and browsing and reading and—

  The dogs barked as the door opened. Jane swiveled on the balcony. Had the butler returned with more teacake? What a helpful chap.

  “Jane?”

  She sucked in her breath.

  Upton.

  She briefly considered her original plan. Could she hide in this house for the rest of her natural life or was she, indeed, required to declare herself? “We don’t know what became of Jane,” she could hear her mother’s voice saying years from now at a party. “She went out to the library one afternoon and never returned.” Because she had told her mother the library was her destination. She just hadn’t mentioned which library. Mrs. Bunbury, that poor darling, remained in bed with a head cold.

  In the end, she decided she must make her presence known. If for no other reason, the idea of the future Mrs. Upton being told that Jane had gone missing in the library would no doubt spur that particular lady into launching an all-out search that would not end until Jane was discovered.

  “I’m here,” she called back softly.

  He tilted his head and looked up at her. His smile was warm and welcoming. “I’m glad you came,” he said. Her heart, that traitorous organ, beat quickly, and for a moment she could almost believe he meant it. Almost. But the memory of him kissing Isabella Langford rendered in Jane’s mind. She wished she could scrub it away, but it remained like a hideous scar.

  The dogs wagged their tails, obviously waiting to be greeted by their master. Garrett bent over and slapped his hands on his thighs. The dogs wiggled up to him and he petted each of them in turn.

  Jane slowly made her way down the staircase. She came to stand a few paces from Garrett. She arched a brow. “Dogberry and Verges?”

  His grin hit her in her middle. “The stars of the play if you ask me.”

  “Not Hero and Claudio?”

  “Certainly not.”

  She tapped her slippered foot against the rug. “What about Beatrice and Benedick? They would be the names I’d choose. You surprise me, Upton. I didn’t know you were partial to dogs.”

  “I’m not. My friend, the Countess of Merrill’s sister, Miss Andrews, gave me these two. She works with the Royal Society for the Humane Treatment of Animals and she’s forever rescuing animals in need. When I saw these two little scoundrels, I couldn’t say no.”

  “They are darling,” Jane allowed, scratching Dogberry behind the ear.

  “Would you care to sit?” Garrett asked her.

  Jane followed him to the settee near the center of the room. She sat on one end. He sat on a chair at right angles to her. He looked handsome today, blast him. Unbearably so. His long legs were encased in buckskin breeches, his feet in black top boots. He wore an emerald green coat and white shirttails and cravat. His dark hair was a bit mussed and it looked as if he hadn’t shaved in a day or two, which Jane quite liked, actually.

  “You’ve been keeping a large secret from me, Upton.”

  His forehead burrowed in a frown, but his hazel eyes sparkled. “Secret?”

  She spread her arms to indicate the room. “I had no idea you had … this.”

  Half of his mouth quirked up in a smile. “You never asked.”

  “I would never have guessed. I can’t understand why Lucy never mentioned it to me.”

  One of the dogs rested his large paw on Upton’s lap. “Would you believe me if I said I asked Lucy not to tell you?”

  Jane blinked at him. “Why would you do that?”

  “Because you’ve always enjoyed giving me endless grief over the fact that I’m not a reader.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “But you are a reader, or so your butler says.”

  Garrett leaned back and crossed his booted feet at the ankles. “You find that so difficult to believe?”

  Jane made a show of reaching for a third teacake. “I’ve never seen you with a book in your hands.”

  “Some of us read despite being able to conduct ourselves in polite Society without hiding behind books.”

  Jane stiffened. She dropped the teacake back to the plate. “I don’t hide behind books.”

  “Don’t you?”

  “No.” She stood to leave with jerky movements. Why had she even come here? She should have known nothing good could come of it.

  “Don’t go,” he said, standing also and reaching out to her.

  She crossed her
arms over her chest. “Why should I stay?”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets and bent his head. His words were quiet. “Jane, why didn’t you come that night? Why did you change your mind?”

  She turned around, facing away from him. She couldn’t look at him. “What does it matter?”

  “It matters very much. I thought we had something special. I thought we were becoming close.”

  She nudged her spectacles and turned her face to the side but still didn’t look at him. She laughed a humorless laugh. “Closer? Special? That’s rich considering what you did that night.”

  “What do you mean?” His voice was full of confusion.

  She whirled to face him, anger replacing the sadness in her chest. “Don’t pretend you don’t know, Upton. It’s not becoming.”

  “I thought I missed our assignation and I apologized for that. I was unavoidably detained, but you said you didn’t come so what did it matter?”

  “Unavoidably detained?” She snorted. “Is that what you call it?”

  He scrubbed a hand through his hair, obviously frustrated. “What else should I call it? I spent the night locked in the blasted wine cellar, attempting to break down the bloody door and hoping you wouldn’t hate me forever.”

  His use of such profanity shocked her. She snapped up her head to look him in the eye and searched his face. “Wine cellar? What are you talking about?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck and paced to the windows. “I went to the cellar to get a bottle of wine for us. While I was there, someone clubbed me over the back of the head and the next thing I knew, I woke up with a hell of a lump on my skull and no way to get out. I nearly tore off my arm trying to break down that door.”

  Jane sat down hard, her skirts whooshing around her. She rubbed a fingertip between her eyes. “Wine cellar? You weren’t in the wine cellar.”

  “Yes, I was. God knows I wish I wasn’t.”

  She crossed her arms tightly over her middle. “No. You were in your room. I saw you.”

  “What?”

  “You were there. I saw you.”

  “You said you didn’t come.”

  Tears stung the backs of her eyes. “I lied. I came. Only I was nearly half an hour late. But by the time I arrived you were…” She studied her slippers where they rested on the carpet, Verges snuggled up next to her foot.