The Unlikely Lady(49)

Jane folded her hands in her lap. Now he was apologizing on behalf of his mistress? Speaking of vulgar. “It did offend me, Upton, but then, her mere presence offends me. However, I’d prefer it if the apology came from the lady herself and something tells me that is not about to happen.” Jane glimpsed Mrs. Langford sauntering toward them. “Ah, look, here she comes. Right on cue. While it’s been a pleasure arguing with you as usual, Upton, I am not about to sit here and listen to any more of her ignorant vitriol. Nor am I inclined to watch her pretend to trip and fall into your arms again. Therefore, I am off to the library, where I can find much better company than Mrs. Langford in the inanimate objects.”

“Game, set, match to Miss Lowndes,” Owen said.

Jane nodded to him. “Good evening, Lord Owen.” She stood, smoothed her skirts, and marched away.

“Jane, don’t go.” Upton’s voice held a vulnerable quality she’d never heard before. The tone stopped her. The use of her Christian name stopped her. She turned slowly to face Upton again. Owen’s brows had shot up. Apparently, Upton’s use of her Christian name had surprised him too.

“Yes?” she said, doing her best to keep her face blank.

“Don’t go,” Upton repeated. Why did he have to look almost boyish? But even at his most charming, he couldn’t keep her here to watch him interact with his mistress, of all people.

Jane stepped closer so only he could hear her reply. “In case you haven’t noticed, Upton, Mrs. Langford is much more interested in your company than I am. I’m not about to compete with her for your attention. Not to mention how disgusted I am by your relationship.”

His brow knotted into a frown and Jane turned again just as Mrs. Langford sidled up.

Upton placed a hand on Jane’s elbow. “Stay,” he pleaded.

“No, thank you.”

She took a step, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her close to whisper in her ear. Gooseflesh pebbled her neck. She tried to will it away, but Upton’s deep voice vibrated along her nerves. “Don’t walk away from me, Lady Blue.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Jane had no recollection of how she managed to make it to the library. In fact, she had no memory of retrieving her jaw from the floor, let alone fleeing, but less than five minutes after Upton had fiercely whispered those shocking words, she was lying on her back on the settee in the empty library, one hand resting upon her forehead, wondering how angry Cass would be if Jane left the house party before the wedding actually took place.

She could not face Upton again. Ever. She could not. She made a mental list. Things she would never do, ever: travel to Egypt and view the frightening tombs of mummies, sleep outside on the ground with insects, give up teacake for Lent, and face Garrett Upton ever again. Yes. Quite a good list, actually. And a plausible one. She could just stay here, in the library, her happy spot. There was a window that overlooked the village church in the distance where the wedding ceremony was to be held. Perhaps Cass would allow Jane to view the nuptials from her safe little perch here. Teacakes could be served here, couldn’t they?

Jane rubbed the back of her hand against her forehead and blew out a long, deep breath. When had everything become so complicated? When she’d kissed Upton, that’s when. The good thing about being a spinster bluestocking was that one didn’t ever do anything to embarrass oneself. The bad thing about being a spinster bluestocking was that when one did do something to embarrass oneself, one had no resources or experience with which to deal with said embarrassment.

Very well. She’d got herself in this predicament. She’d get herself out. One problem at a time. All she had to do was think. Think. Think! She removed her spectacles and rubbed her temples.

Slam.

Jane jumped.

The door to the library had opened and closed with a resounding bang. Sliding her spectacles over her nose again, she sat up quickly and leaned over the back of the settee. Who was it?

“Jane, are you in here?”

Upton. He had followed her. Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. She wasn’t ready to face him. Most likely she would never be ready but she certainly was not tonight. Not now.

“No,” came her weak reply. She mentally cursed herself for such a woeful response.

He strode to where she sat huddled on the settee at the far end of the room, knees pulled up to her chest. His boots pounded on the wood floor as he approached. She pressed her forehead to the back of the settee, covering her eyes, spectacles and all. It was going to be embarrassing enough to speak to him, let alone look at him. Yes. Looking at him was asking far too much.

It was weak of her to hide, but at present she just didn’t care.