Winning Lady Jane Page 4

  Lord Keegain was not a man to break a vow. Aside from the fact, that living such a double life seemed to elicit a monumental amount of stress and bother. No, a vow once made must be kept. The thought should not have left him cold.

  The grey light of dawn had just broken and the day promised clear skies. Lady Margret would have good weather for travel. He had insisted that she leave early so she would be home well before dark, but the minutes were ticking by, and she still fussed with her belongings much to his footmen’s dismay. Keegain stayed out of the fray. He reminded himself one day this woman would be the lady of his house. He would not countermand her. He let her direct the servants as she wished.

  Mr. Theodore Reynolds appeared at the door with sleepy eyes and a cup of coffee held in his hand.

  “You are up early, Ted.” Keegain observed. Usually his friend was not an early riser.

  “Humph,” Reynolds hummed taking a sip of the coffee. The two of them had developed a taste for the bitter liquid while traveling when they were young men, Keegain for his grand tour, and Reynolds upon his work for the Crown. Keegain’s trip had been aborted when his father passed, but the two remained good friends and Ted visited often.

  “I came to see off Lady Margret. You are not escorting her?” Reynolds asked. The man was a worrier, forever solicitous of a lady’s needs. “Even with the threat of highwaymen?”

  Keegain considered. It was not only highwaymen. He had heard various rumors, but he did not give credence to rumor alone. Lord Beresford had sent him a letter hinting of some trouble, but all that bother was much closer to London. It was only a day trip to Lady Margret’s country home, and not upon the London road.

  “She insists upon going and I must stay,” Lord Keegain said. “Guests for the Christmas Ball will be arriving forthwith.”

  “Women do not always know they need protecting. It is up to a gentleman to provide it.” Reynolds urged.

  Keegain brushed away his friend’s over apprehension. Reynolds was a King’s man and saw danger around every corner. It was his job to do so. Keegain had the safety of his intended well in hand.

  “Lady Margret will be home safe well before nightfall,” he said comforting himself with the thought. He did not know the specifics of the duke’s concern which was why he insisted that Margret leave early and sent with her his best protection.

  “I am sending several trusted footmen to accompany her on the journey,” Keegain said. “Much to her chagrin, and theirs.” He could not help but smile. Lady Margret was a demanding woman. “No harm will befall her.”

  Reynolds nodded, although he inquired after which footmen and Keegain supplied the men’s names.

  “I am so glad they meet with the approval of the Crown,” Keegain teased. “Where is Fitz?”

  “Still abed no doubt, like any respectable gentleman,” Reynolds said yawning.

  When at last the luggage was placed to her satisfaction Keegain moved to help Margret into the carriage and bid her farewell. He held her hand for the briefest of moments.

  “Safe journey, Lady Margret,” Reynolds said over his shoulder.

  “I wish you had deigned to stay,” Keegain added, although they had already had this conversation, and she repeated her previous comment.

  “I shall be back before you shall miss me,” Lady Margret said turning her cheek for a kiss, which he dutifully supplied.

  Keegain shut the carriage door, and they were on their way.

  Reynolds still stood upon the front steps with an unreadable expression.

  “Come,” Keegain said after the carriage had moved down the lane, “shall I fleece you in a game of cards?”

  “You can try,” Reynolds said laughing. “You forget; I have sharper eyes than you.”

  “Ah, but I have deeper pockets.”

  “Indeed you do. Are we playing for pence, then?” Reynolds asked.

  “I think so. I can ill afford more.”

  “Ah you are untruthful,” Reynolds said with a gesture to the grand grounds. There was no envy in his voice, only a calm matter-of-factness.

  “Very well then,” Keegain agreed. “You can ill afford more.”

  “Ah, But I do not intend to lose,” Reynolds retorted, and Keegain laughed.

  “No one ever does.”

  He knew that Reynolds had been bemoaning his lack of funds, which in the absence of a title kept him from marrying the lady of his choosing. Keegain had tried to wheedle the news from the man, but Reynolds would not divulge the lady’s name. He was a remarkably closed lipped man. Keegain supposed it came from hiding secrets for the Crown.

  “Come, you shall win my assets a penny at a time,” Keegain teased as he slapped his friend upon the back and led him towards the parlor.

  “It is no penny I wish to win from you.” Reynolds replied with a more serious air although their game was friendly. Keegain would not beggar the man.

  For a while there was only the clink of coin and the sound of the cards being shuffled and dealt as each man held his own musings.

  “I’ve had a letter from Percival Beresford,” Lord Keegain said at last.

  “Then the rumors are true?”

  Lord Keegain shook his head. “He did not say as much,” the earl admitted. “I am sure he did not want to spill secrets upon paper.”

  Reynolds nodded and put his cards aside. “What would he have us do?”

  “Do?” Keegain lifted a shoulder. “Nothing at the moment. The Duke of Ely will be here by the end of the week. We will know more once he arrives. In any case, the trouble was based in London. I doubt it will touch us here.”

  Reynolds picked up his cards again, and moved one card in his hand and then another, but Keegain could see the worry on his friend’s face.

  “Put aside your concerns,” Lord Keegain urged. “It is Christmas. What trouble could befall us here?”

  “I am sure you are right,” Reynolds said. “I shall attempt to be of good cheer.” He put a smile upon his face, but it did not reach his eyes. “We should not want to upset the ladies.”

  “Certainly not,” the earl agreed.

  6

  The pale light of the winter sun was streaming through the window in Jane’s borrowed chamber. She had been awake since dawn, but had not wanted to disturb anyone so she waited until she heard the house stirring before getting out of bed.

  Peering out her window, she saw Lady Margret take her leave. The earl’s goodbye to his intended had left Jane sulking. She had no right to the man. She was only a guest of his sister. Still, the kiss the earl had left upon Lady Margret’s cheek stung.

  Jane realized she had no idea what time it was, and although she often dressed herself, she hesitated a moment before pulling the servant’s call bell. She needed someone to guide her downstairs. If she got lost and missed breakfast entirely, that would be terribly embarrassing.

  She expected Jacqueline or some other maid to return, but instead, Lady Charlotte herself greeted her, coming into the room with a smile and a hug. “Oh Jane, I cannot wait for Christmas and the ball. Could you not just burst with excitement? ” Lady Charlotte said

  “It is weeks away,” Jane said, but Charlotte’s bubbling enthusiasm quickly dispelled Jane’s melancholy, and she was grateful for the distraction.

  “The day will be here before we know it,” Lady Charlotte continued.

  Jane noted that Lady Charlotte was already dressed for the day in a crème and rose day dress. Was the whole household awake? She did not want to be a bother, and told Charlotte so.

  “Oh, nonsense,” Lady Charlotte said with a wave of her hand. “Alice bullies our maids on a regular basis.”

  “She is the youngest of you, correct?” Jane questioned.

  “Yes,” Charlotte sighed as she looked at herself in the glass and fussed with a curl of reddish blonde hair that had come loose from her chignon. Charlotte’s hair was nearly as curly as Julia’s, Jane thought as she smiled at her friend.

  “Surely Lady Alice would act ap
propriately,” Jane said as a servant brought in a tray of tea and biscuits with setting for four.

  Lady Charlotte chuckled at Jane’s look of outrage. “My little sister can be very gracious. She is just…rather spoiled. It comes of being the youngest, you know. Randolph lavishes his love upon her.”

  “Is that not what an elder brother should do?” Jane asked softly once again thinking of the earl.

  “I suppose so, but I hate to think of the merry chase upon which Alice will lead a gentleman when she has her season. Mother thinks her beauty will make her a diamond of the first water, but do not tell her so. Her head is big enough already.” Charlotte nodded towards the tea service. “I ordered tea for us, or would you rather have chocolate?”

  “Tea would be wonderful,” Jane said as she pulled on her dressing gown.

  “I can barely open my eyes at all without my tea,” Lady Charlotte said. “Sophia has taken to drinking coffee like Randolph. I think she is just being pretentious.”

  Jane remembered that Lady Sophia was Charlotte’s eldest sister. The others were younger than Charlotte although Helen acted as if she were older.

  “Have you ever tasted coffee?” Lady Charlotte continued. “Urg. It is disgustingly bitter. I cannot imagine why anyone would drink the stuff.” She shuddered. “Ruddy says it is an acquired taste.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Jane said. “I have never tasted coffee.”

  “Give me a good English tea any day.” Charlotte grinned at her and practically shivered with excitement. “Oh Jane! Are you not just overflowing with delight? Our first season!”

  “It is not the season yet,” Jane reminded her.

  “Yes, but balls and soirees. Oh Jane, I am so tired of being relegated to the back of the room with the children or worse yet, upstairs. Shan’t it be wonderful to dance the night away? Lady Charlotte picked up a pillow from Jane’s bed and twirled in a makeshift dance.”

  “You needn’t lord it over me,” said a voice from the doorway.

  “Oh, come in, Alice,” Lady Charlotte ordered, reacquainting Jane with her youngest sister.

  “Helen shall share our season, but Mother says Alice must wait until she is sixteen.”

  Lady Alice grimaced, crinkling her pert nose. She reached across the tea tray to snag a biscuit, and Charlotte slapped her hand. “Wait until we are ready for tea.”

  “I’m ready,” Alice said with a pout.

  “Shall I pour?” the maid asked gesturing to the waiting tray.

  “No. no. I shall.” Charlotte waved the maid away so the girls could talk. “See,” Charlotte said. “Everyone spoils Alice.”

  “They do not,” Alice protested.

  “Shall we wait for Helen, then?” Charlotte asked.

  “If you wish,” Jane replied.

  “She will be hours and hours.” Alice protested. “We shall all perish of thirst.”

  Jane grinned at her friend as Lady Charlotte sat in the armchair of the small sitting room and poured tea for them, proving that Lady Alice did get her way.

  “Where is Lady Helen?” Jane inquired.

  “She is still sound asleep.” Lady Charlotte said as she stirred sugar into the tea. “But that is what comes from staying up half the night reading. Alice is right; we should perish from hunger if we waited upon Helen.”

  Another maid asked for entrance to the dressing room and Jane recognized her as Miss Jacqueline from the night before.

  In her accented English, she asked Jane, “Do you have a preference for this morning?” She held up Jane’s blue morning frock. “Une belle robe,” she said admiringly although the dress was simple. “Cette robe, peut-être?”

  Jane nodded. “Yes. I shall wear that one, thank you”

  “I have several pressed for you if you would like another,” Jacqueline explained.

  “The blue dress will be fine,” Jane said, choosing the dress the maid held. It was one of her favorites trimmed around the front and shoulders with tiny bows.

  “That dress is pretty,” Lady Alice said. “I like the bows. Very feminine.” She took a bite of crumpet and closed her eyes in bliss.

  The crumpets were excellent, crispy on the edges and soft and fluffy inside. “These are wonderful,” Jane commented.

  “Yes, Mrs. Muir, our cook, is a wonder with pastries,” Lady Charlotte said.

  For a while they discussed various dressmakers, while Jaqueline helped Jane to dress.

  Jaqueline asked if she could do Jane’s hair. Jane nodded. She began pulling Jane’s hair into a simple style.

  Charlotte sighed and bemoaned her own hair. Lady Charlotte’s hair was curly as a lamb’s wool. It escaped its pins on a regular basis, but since it was so early in the day, it seemed to be tamed this morning. Charlotte had told Jane in a hushed voice in Bath that she thought the very air of the city conspired against her, the moisture turning her locks into an unruly mess just when she wanted to look her best.

  “Actually, Charlotte, I think your hair is very becoming,” Jane said. “It is curly and a lovely shade of strawberry blonde, unlike my own, which is just plain brown.”

  Lady Charlotte gave her a look. “It’s nearly ginger,” she said aghast.

  “It is not. I wish I had your distinctive shade and your height. I’ve always wished to be taller,” Jane added. “You have to admit your gentleman would be able to find you in a crowd.”

  Charlotte laughed at Jane’s joke and said. “When I find a gentleman, I do hope he is tall. Oh, it is just so exciting. We must find the very best dresses for the ball. Everyone will be here. I cannot wait. Randolph invited the Duke of Ely and his daughter, Lady Amelia, of course.”

  “And the Beatrams.” Lady Alice added. “You know Lady Patience?”

  Jane nodded.

  “Lady Patience is a true ginger,” Jane commented to Charlotte.

  “And a dear friend.” Lady Charlotte said. “Patience is kindness itself to everyone.”

  Jane’s hair was nearly finished when Lady Helen joined them in the sitting room.

  Lady Helen was also taller than Jane, but not as tall as Charlotte. Her hair was like spun gold with eyes the color of honey, only a little darker than Alice’s.

  Only the earl had brown hair. All of his sisters were varying shades of blonde. Jane felt like the odd brown goose amongst the blonde beauties, but they laughed and shared crumpets and tea while the young French maid finished her hair.

  Miss Jacqueline held a glass before her face, and Jane was amazed that her dark brown locks were in such order this morning. She was not used to such pampering.

  “Magnifique,” Miss Jacqueline pronounced and Jane had to agree.

  “Thank you,” Jane said as the maid finished. “You are quite talented, Jacqueline.”

  She curtseyed and left the girls to their own devices. Jane had servants at home, but Mrs. Carron was sometimes forgetful, and her fingers were certainly not as deft as Miss Jacqueline’s. It seemed strange to have someone pressing her clothing before she even thought of it.

  “Lady Margret thinks we should not have Jacqueline in our house,” Lady Charlotte confided over a biscuit.

  “Why ever not?” Jane asked.

  Lady Charlotte gave a shrug. “Because of the war and the fact that she is French; as if Jaqueline might be a spy for Bonaparte,” Charlotte said with a sniff. “The very notion is ridiculous.”

  “Oh. I never thought of that.” Jane wondered if it could be true. Jacqueline seemed so kind. It could not be so.

  “Well, it does not bear thinking on at all,” Lady Helen said sipping her tea. “Condemning the poor girl on nothing but her accent and country of birth. She fled from the trouble in France and her family was killed for it. Jaqueline has more reason than most to hate Bonaparte. She could never be a spy. Margret is only being cruel.”

  “I am glad you are sure,” Jane said. “I quite liked the girl.”

  “Oh, I do, too,” Lady Charlotte agreed. “Margret and Ruddy had a terrible row about it. He said h
e would not leave the daughter of an associate of our father destitute and Margret refused to allow Jacqueline to touch her.”

  Lady Charlotte bit her biscuit and shrugged. “I find I do not understand Margret anymore. We used to be quite good friends. All of us rode together when we were young, before father died, and Margret went off to finishing school.”

  “Which is why I shall never go.” Lady Alice announced loudly. “I shall not be finished into an entirely different person.”

  “It is true.” Helen added. “When Lady Margret returned she was not the same. She is the daughter of a marquess, but you would think she is a princess related to the Regent himself the way she puts on airs. She acts as though she is above us all because she will one day be the Lady Keegain.”

  Jane was not sure what to say. She was sure she did not wish to discuss her opinion of Lady Margret.

  “You must not let her attitude bother you,” Lady Charlotte said.

  Jane nodded, but that was easier said than done.

  “Shall we ride, today?” Lady Charlotte asked rising and turning to the window. A frown creased her face as she pulled back the heavy draperies. “Drat. It is raining.”

  “Perhaps, we shall have snow by Christmas,” Jane offered as she came up beside her friend and peered out.

  “Perhaps,” Charlotte agreed. “That would be grand.”

  The rain continued, and the ladies spent the morning sharing stories. Afterwards, Lady Charlotte took it upon herself to show Jane around Kennett.

  Jane paid careful attention so as to not lose her way within the grand house as they turned this way and that. Lady Charlotte showed Jane a looking glass as tall as she was which Charlotte said was imported by her grandfather.

  “It is made of Venetian mirrored glass,” she said. “An artisan came with it to put it together. It used to be downstairs, but Randolph had it moved up here,” she explained.

  Jane thought it strange to see the entirety of one’s self in a looking glass. It seemed to be the height of pretentiousness. Uncharitably, she thought Lady Margret would love it.

  Other rooms held silk covered chairs and velvet draperies. She saw elaborate console tables set between windows which looked out on the expansive grounds, and several guest chambers had beds so large Jane thought whole families could sleep in them.