The Unlikely Lady (25 page)

“Don't think I wouldn't have arranged it,” Cass replied.

“I have no doubt.” Jane took her leave of Julian, Lucy, and Derek and made her way out of the ballroom and up the stairs to her room. By the time she arrived at her door, she was trembling with nerves. She rang for Eloise, who quickly helped divest her of her gown. Jane made it a point to dismiss the maid before she removed her chemise. She took a step over to the wardrobe and grabbed her dressing gown. She clutched it in both hands, staring at herself in the full-length mirror. She looked altogether different in her chemise. In fact, she'd never exactly studied herself this way before, with her hair down and her feet bare. Would Garrett think she was pretty enough? Would her naked body be acceptable to him? Would he think her thighs were too plump? Her backside too round? She'd never cared what anyone thought about her appearance before, but tonight she cared. She cared deeply.

“If you're not there, I'll know you changed your mind,” Garrett had said.

For a brief awful moment she thought of him there, waiting for her if she didn't come. She took a shaky breath. She had this moment, this
one
moment to decide. The clock on the mantelpiece struck two and she stared at her reflection in the glass. Her heart pounded so loudly she could hear it in her ears.

She was frozen, paralyzed. What if he thought she wasn't good enough? Wasn't pretty enough? She couldn't take rejection. Not from him.

She squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn't do it.

*   *   *

When Garrett left the ballroom, he went directly to the wine cellar. He needed a bottle of red for tonight. He'd be sure to send over a replacement to reimburse the Morelands, though he doubted they'd mind. The earl and countess had a vast and extensive collection of wine.

The kitchens had been humming with servants bringing courses to and fro, but the evening had died down and a much smaller group remained hard at work. After getting the approval of the butler and assuring the good man that he did not need his help, he asked the hall boy for direction to the wine cellar.

“Just down the way, sir,” the boy replied, pointing toward a darkened room at the far end of the basement. Garrett grinned at him and tossed the boy a pound coin for his trouble.

Whistling softly to himself, Garrett used the key the butler had given him and entered the cold, dry wine cellar. He lit a small candle so that he might better see. He stared up at the long rows of bottles. The reds were on one side, the whites on the other. He turned toward the rows of reds. Port, elder wine, madeira. He had to find the perfect thing. He'd stop and get two glasses on his way back through the kitchens. The servants might wonder who he was entertaining, but they wouldn't find out. He grinned.

He pulled out a bottle of madeira. A fine year. Still whistling to himself, he began to turn back toward the door … and the entire world went black.

*   *   *

Fifteen minutes later, Jane was still standing in front of the looking glass, hating herself. Tears pooled in the back of her eyes and she glared at her reflection.

“Fatty, fatty.” The voices of the children from her days in the schoolyard taunted her.

Finally, she tugged her eyes from her body and met her own gaze in the mirror. That was in the past. This was now. She was no longer that plump little girl she'd been years ago. She might not be willowy or thin, but she wasn't plump any longer either.

She threw her dressing gown over her shoulders. She might be nearly twenty minutes late, but she was going to do this, take the risk, change her life. She would experience making love for the first time with Garrett. Because he wanted her. Because she wanted him. Because he was Garrett.

She hurried to the door of her bedchamber, pushing her arms through the sleeves of her dressing gown. She wrapped it around her waist and cinched the belt around her middle.

Garrett had given her directions to his room on the opposite end of the manor, but Jane was familiar enough with the house to know there was a much more private corridor that led to that end of the property. Perfect for a midnight assignation, she thought with a wry smile. She opened the door to her bedchamber, and peeked both ways to ensure the corridor was empty. Then she slowly tiptoed out.

Even favoring her ankle and keeping to the shadows, it didn't take her long to make it through the corridor and to Garrett's room. Her hand trembled as she placed it on the door handle. What if he'd changed his mind? What if he was angry with her for taking so long? Or hurt? Perhaps he'd assumed she wasn't coming and had fallen asleep.

She slowly turned the handle and pushed open the door. Holding her breath, she moved quietly into the darkened room. The light from a single candle on the mantelpiece cast the bedchamber in a warm glow. She'd barely taken two steps inside when she saw them. There, standing next to the bed facing her was Isabella Langford, and she was passionately kissing Garrett!

Jane clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle her scream.

She took one more awful look and saw his broad shoulders, his dark, curly hair, and his mouth on Isabella's breast as he bent his head to her chest. That was enough. Isabella's chin was thrown back and her eyes were tightly closed.

Covering her mouth this time because she thought she might retch, Jane whirled and ran. She ran out of the room, heedless of the pain that throbbed in her ankle, heedless of anyone who might see her rushing from Garrett's bedchamber in her dressing gown. She didn't even bother to go back the way she'd come. She ran down the long corridor, around the corner, and down a second long corridor, back to her bedchamber. She had to get inside her room. She had to hide. Had to—

She'd nearly made it to her door when her ankle gave way. She collapsed to the floor. The pain in her leg and the pain in her heart collided, causing the floodgates to open. Tears poured down her cheeks. She swiped them away with the backs of her hands and forced herself to stand. She dragged open her door and staggered to the bed where she fell on the mattress, her head jerked to the side.

She sobbed and sobbed as her heart broke into a thousand tiny pieces.

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Somewhere around the time dawn cracked above the horizon and spread its insistent tendrils past the curtains, Jane rolled over and groaned. She'd cried so much her face was puffy and her eyes felt as if they bulged from her skull.

She'd been haunted by the horrifying moments in Garrett's bedchamber again and again. She wanted to believe it wasn't true. But when she replayed the awful scene in her mind's eye, she knew it wasn't a dream. Jane had
seen
it. Nothing about the scenario Jane had stumbled onto appeared to be forced. Quite the opposite actually, it was entirely apparent that both the participants had been greatly enjoying themselves.

Betrayal twisted like a knife in her belly. What was wrong with Garrett? She'd been late, yes. She'd been torn, hadn't decided to come right away. But once she'd decided, she couldn't get there fast enough. Obviously, she'd been too late. Obviously, he'd decided she wasn't coming. It hadn't taken him long to replace her in his bed.
Disgusting
. How could she have been so wrong about him? For heaven's sake, she'd actually fancied herself in
love
with him. Thank heavens she hadn't told him, or anyone else. If she'd mentioned it to Cass or Lucy, she'd feel twice the fool right now.

Garrett Upton was revolting, the worst kind of reprobate. But in a way, he'd done her a favor. A sick sort of favor, but a favor nonetheless. If she'd been on time last night, she would have made love to him. She might have given him her innocence, never knowing what kind of man he really was. No doubt she would have found out sooner or later, but not until after she'd made the biggest mistake of her life.

She pressed her palms against her aching eyes. There was no help for it. Life must go on. She intended to get up, wash her face, assist Eloise in packing her bags, and return to London today where she would set about forgetting any of this had ever happened.

She pushed herself up from the bed and hobbled over to the looking glass. Her hair was a tangled mess and her eyes were indeed swollen. As much as she was a disaster on the outside, her insides were a larger mess. In addition to her heart, her pride had taken a severe blow. She'd let down her defenses. She couldn't forgive herself for that. She'd actually convinced herself that someone like Garrett could really fancy someone like her. Preposterous. She hated herself for letting him in even a little, for being weak. She'd spent the last sennight pretending, pretending to enjoy suitors and fripperies, and gowns and balls for once. This is what had come of it. But most of all, more than everything else, she was incensed. Incensed at Garrett Upton … for being a liar.

*   *   *

Garrett had spent the better part of the wee hours of the morning pounding on the door of what was obviously a soundproof wine cellar. The brick lining the high walls was thick, thick enough to prevent him from summoning any help, thick enough to keep him from breaking down the bloody walls. Lord knows he'd tried. He'd damn near dislocated his shoulder in the attempt. That is, after he woke with the devil of a head from the bottle of wine that had been broken over it. He'd found himself lying in the shards of glass with a wet head, stained cravat, and ruined coat.

Whoever the hell had ambushed him would deal with his reckoning later. His first thought was getting to Jane.

When a servant finally happened by to unlock the door, Garrett rushed past the footman who'd freed him. “Thanks, chap.” Without slowing down, he called, “What time is it?”

“Nearly eight o'clock, sir,” the servant returned.

Eight o'clock? Bloody hell. Where would Jane be at this hour?

His first stop was the breakfast room where Lucy, Claringdon, and some of the other guests were eating breakfast.

Lucy's eyes went wide when she saw him. “Garrett, what are you doing here? What happened to your cravat? Why are you wearing your evening attire at this hour? Forgive me for saying so, but you look dreadful.”

Garrett tried to catch his breath. “I'll explain later. Have you seen Jane this morning?”

This time Lucy narrowed her eyes. “Yes. She was up with the sun, quite unusual for Jane. She said she and her parents wanted to get an early start back to London.”

Garrett cursed under his breath. “Have they gone already?”

“I believe their coach is just now being pulled around,” Claringdon added.

Garrett sprinted for the door. He flew down the hallway, his footsteps echoing against the marble, and came to a sliding stop near the front door where Lord and Lady Moreland were taking leave of their guests.

“Are Sir and Lady Lowndes and Jane still here?” he asked, not pausing for the answer.

“Their coach is pulling away right now,” came Lord Moreland's reply.

Garrett ripped open the front door and raced out onto the gravel drive. “Miss Lowndes!” he called at the top of his lungs. The coach, which was already moving past the drive onto the lane that led up to the house, came to a stop. Garrett didn't wait. He sprinted toward the vehicle, completely winded by the time he got to it.

The window opened and Jane's mother stuck out her head. “Mr. Upton, is that you?”

“Y—yes,” he managed, desperately trying to catch his breath.

“May I ask what you're doing?”

Garrett bent over and braced his hands on his knees, breathing quickly and struggling to remain calm.

“I—I must speak with Jane.”

There was a bit of discussion inside the coach, which allowed him time to right his breathing. It still wasn't perfect but was markedly improved by the time Jane stuck out her head. “Go away, Upton.”

“No. I won't. I must speak with you.”

More discussion in the coach ensued. By the time the door opened, Garrett was able to straighten himself. Jane emerged from the entrance, and Garrett held out his hand and helped her down onto the gravel. She was still favoring her ankle and behind her spectacles her face looked a bit red. Had she been crying? Damn it.

“Very well. What would you like to say to me?” she asked, her voice flat and calm. Too flat and calm.

“Can we go over there?” He gestured to a shady spot several lengths away from the coach next to a hedgerow. He could already imagine her mother listening to this conversation and he wanted to spare Jane that.

Jane nodded jerkily.

There was a distinct harrumph from inside the coach as the two walked away. Jane had to lean on his arm a bit heavily. “Is your ankle worse?” he asked.

“It will be fine,” she replied in the same flat voice.

As soon as they came to a standstill near the hedgerow, Jane released him, crossed her arms over her chest, and glared at him. He couldn't blame her for being angry. He'd left her waiting for him last night. She deserved an explanation.

“I'm sorry,” he breathed. “About last night, I was—”

“Please, Upton. I don't want to discuss it. I find the entire thing distasteful in the extreme and I'd prefer to pretend that none of it ever happened.”

He searched her pretty face. The spectacles he knew so well covered eyes that were full of anger and a bit swollen. “You can't mean that, Jane.”

“I do indeed mean it, Upton.”

She was back to calling him Upton and her face was a mask of ice.

“Jane, I'm sorry. I truly—”

“What are you sorry for? I'm the one who should apologize to you.”

He furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

“I never came to your room last night. I changed my mind.”

His face fell. “Wh—what?”

“I changed my mind.”

“That's all right, Jane. I didn't mean to do this here, but—” He fell to one knee. “Marry me.”