A Lord Rotheby's Holiday Bundle (90 page)

Or if she could understand his cat
language.

Once he was settled, she gathered her
belongings and rushed out the door, the cat’s basket tucked snugly
under one arm and another with her sewing notions in the other
hand.

She trudged through the muddy lane
separating their two houses. At least the rain had finally stopped.
Mr. Cuddlesworth hated to get wet. They always fought an epic
battle when he needed a bath, though it was usually quite unclear
in the aftermath which of them had come out the victor.

As she turned the corner toward her
parents’ home, she realized things were far worse than she
expected.

Double
drat
.

A huge, crested carriage waited before
the front door. At least four men accompanied it, each of them at
work caring for the team of six horses.

Six horses!
Oh, dear Lord.

Jane rushed past the carriage on her
way to the house, ducking her head as she passed the team so as not
to draw their attention. One horse reared back and whinnied, and
her heart palpitated. Breathing became almost impossible. She froze
where she stood, so that perhaps the beast would calm
down.

Only a few more steps to the kitchen
door.

One of the men waiting with the
carriage grabbed hold of the horse’s reins and calmed it, and Jane
took that opportunity to dart the rest of the way. Thank heavens.
She hoped she could clean up before being spotted by anyone. Mother
would be livid if Jane came in to be introduced to the dowager with
a muddy hem and shoes. She threw open the door and scurried
inside.

And ran straight into the lion’s
den.

Drat, drat,
drat
.

Mother’s eyes dropped to the floor and
her cheeks filled with color. Oh, dear. She hated to embarrass her
mother. Jane had always hoped that, perhaps as she grew older, she
would find a way to stop being so clumsy—that she could manage to
behave appropriately more often than she behaved
inappropriately.

Fortune had not been so kind as to
grant her that favor.

She set her baskets down on the floor
and brushed a hand over the wild mass of blonde hair falling out of
place on her head. Nothing could be done about the state of her
attire at this point, but at least she could try to straighten her
hair. The damp air was causing her curls to run riot, though, and
they quickly bounced back to their original position.

Blast, why had she worn the green
cotton? It always made her skin look sallow. Not only that, but it
had far more pulls from Mr. Cuddlesworth’s claws than any of her
others. She really ought to make herself some new gowns sometime
soon. Her current dresses were all too worn, too faded.

Too late to do anything about that, at
the moment.

With a sheepish grin, Jane tried to
execute a proper and polite curtsy to the dowager, but her muddy
shoes slipped on the hardwood floor and she fell forward. Thwack!
Her nose smacked hard on the floor just beside the dowager’s
feet.

“
Oh, that hurt.” Her pride,
more than anything.

Mrs. Childress, the family’s maid of
all work, rushed to her side and helped her to her feet. A tiny
pool of blood pooled on the floor just where her nose had been, and
a few droplets fell forward and landed on the dowager’s gown as
Jane straightened. She took a seat across the table from the two
older women. That was not quite the elegant entrance she’d hoped
for.

Mr. Cuddlesworth jumped into her lap
and shoved his head into her hand repeatedly, forcing her to pet
him just as he wanted, and entirely oblivious to the scene his
favorite person had just caused.

“
Your Grace, oh goodness, I
am so terribly sorry,” Jane’s mother interjected. “My daughter is
quite the clumsy fool at times.” Mother’s voice trembled with
misery as she sprinted about to dab a wet cloth on her cousin’s
gown. “I certainly would understand if you’ve changed your mind
after the behavior she has just displayed.”

“
Changed your mind about
what?” Jane tried to ignore the hurt tone of her mother’s voice.
She pressed another wet cloth, brought over by Mrs. Childress,
against her bloody nose with her unoccupied hand and hoped the flow
would cease soon. If it didn’t, she would likely get blood all over
Mr. Cuddlesworth and then have to give the poor dear a
bath.

A chore neither of them relished. She
might end up bloodier than she started.

“
Gracious heavens, girl,
I’ve taught you better manners than that. I apologize for my Jane’s
impertinence, Your Grace.”

Jane frowned. “Mother, I
can certainly apologize for my own impertinence. There’s no need
for you to do so for me.” She looked the dowager full in the face.
A glint of amusement settled deep in the woman’s eyes and the tiny
upward curl of her lips intrigued her. “Changed your mind about
what,
Your Grace
?”

She was a grown woman, by
God, and not some silly girl still in leading strings. She would
speak when she wanted to speak, and question when (and whom) she
wanted to question, regardless of rank or station. Jane
purposefully left the apology out of her question, choosing instead
to simply add a
proper
styling for the woman’s rank.

Mother’s gaze hardened in outrage, but
the dowager laughed outright. Her blue eyes twinkled with delight
and soon her fair skin flushed to almost match the rich reddish hue
of her hair. “Miss Matthews, I do believe I like you.”

She turned to Mother and took the
cloth from her hands. Then she took over the task of blotting the
bloody spots from the fine yellow muslin of her gown. It was quite
the fashionable gown, too, with subtle yet intricate stitch-work
along the seams. It took every ounce of restraint Jane owned to
keep from leaning closer and examining that gown down to the last
inch. She wanted desperately to recreate it—only in a blue shade,
something more akin to the sky on a sunny, spring
afternoon.

“
Your mother hopes I
haven’t changed my mind about returning you to London with me and
sponsoring you for a Season,” the dowager said with a faint smile.
“She can breathe freely, because I most certainly haven’t. I
daresay you’ll breeze into those ballrooms and clear the air
considerably.”

“
A Season in London?” Jane
ignored the dowager and turned to her mother. “But we can’t afford
such an extravagance. And is it necessary? I can’t envision a
reason to go to such lengths, when there is always so much work to
be done here, and all of the boys have their own homes now, and
wives and children, and can’t help you with the gardens any more,
and—”

“
And nothing. You have no
marriage prospects remaining in Whitstable, thanks to your silly
ideas. That’s unlikely to change in the foreseeable future. If you
are to have any chance at a future other than being a spinster
living forever with your father and me, this is what must take
place.”

Oh, heavens. She knew Mother had been
horrified all those years ago when she’d refused Mr. Thornhill’s
pursuit. Whitstable didn’t boast many other prospects in general,
and the few that did remain at that point had all since married.
None of which had bothered Jane in the least—but clearly it
bothered Mother more than she’d realized.

“
But why must I marry at
all? What’s so wrong with staying here with you and Father? You
need help with the gardens and the cleaning. Mrs. Childress can’t
do it all, you know. I can earn a living with my sewing,
and—”

“
Enough with this
foolishness of sewing! Jane, the Dowager Duchess of Somerton has
made an offer to you that you simply cannot refuse. You
will
not refuse.” Mother
looked close to tears. “You’ll go. You’ll do everything in your
power to be charming and to find a husband. You simply can’t fail
again.” She stopped on a sob and took a moment to recompose
herself.

The incident between Jane
and Mr. Thornhill was most certainly
not
a failure, at least not in Jane’s
estimation. She wouldn’t marry him if he were the last man in all
of England. Not five years ago, not now, not in another ten
years.

Not ever.

“
Is that understood?”
Mother stood with her hands firmly planted against her hips, the
outrage which had colored her cheeks finally fading. “I can’t live
with myself if we fail to at least give you one more chance at
finding a husband, Jane. Promise me you’ll try. That’s all I
ask.”

The dowager gave her an
encouraging smile, and Jane couldn’t bear to blatantly ignore her
mother’s request. Besides, she need only go to London and
try
to find a husband.
She wasn’t promising to actually
take
one.

Added to that, if she went along with
her mother’s request, she could even look around for a place to set
up a shop—and take a look at some of the already established
modiste shops there, to see what her competition might be. She
hadn’t yet worked out the logistics of having a storefront in
London while working in Whitstable, but surely it would be easier
to work all of that out in Town.

After giving marriage this one last
opportunity, she might finally be free to do what she wanted with
her life. She squared her shoulders, resigning herself to her
decision. “Very well, Mother. I’ll try.”

Mother heaved a sigh of relief and
Jane returned her attention to the dowager. “Ma’am, how soon will
we travel? I’ll have to prepare Mr. Cuddlesworth for the journey
and pack some food for him.” He raised his head at the mention of
his name and looked up at her with adoring, amber eyes.

Her mother’s jaw fell open.
“You
what
? Jane,
you can’t be serious. Leave the cat here. He’ll be just fine. Your
Grace, my daughter most certainly will not bring that ball of fur
to your home, there’s no need to worry.”

Goodness. Her mother really
needed to stop trying to speak for her. “I most certainly
will
take Mr.
Cuddlesworth with me, or I refuse to leave at all. Mother, he’s
never been without me. And he is so old now, just a little old man,
surely he wouldn’t do well if I left him here, no matter how well
you took care of him. He has to go or I can’t. There can be no
compromise on this point, I’m afraid.”

The dowager eyed the cat purring
contentedly on Jane’s lap. “No, I can see there’s no compromise at
all. Cousin Barbara, I’m afraid Mr. Cuddlesworth will simply have
to come with us.” She reached a hand across and brushed it gently
over his coat, coaxing him to roll over and bare his belly to her
ministrations. “Jane, will he do well on our journey, do you
believe?”

“
Yes ma’am, I think he’ll
do quite nicely, so long as he’s with me. He’ll be no trouble, I
can promise you.”

Chapter Two

Mr. Cuddlesworth’s body convulsed
again, and a horrid, hacking sound emanated deep within
him.

“
Gracious. The poor little
dear.” Cousin Henrietta, as the dowager had insisted Jane call her,
winced with each wracking heave until the cat finally relieved
himself of the meager contents of his stomach.

Jane winced. “Oh, goodness. I’m
terribly sorry. He has never traveled before, so I didn’t know he’d
become so ill.” The vomit covered the other half of the upholstered
carriage bench upon which Jane sat. She mopped at it with an
already ruined cotton gown, all the while worried about her sweet
companion. His eyes looked glassier than usual and his fur was
becoming matted against his body.

He feebly returned to her lap and
looked at her with huge, miserable eyes.

“
I imagine cats are much
like children in that way,” the dowager said. “We must simply take
these things as life gives them to us. There’s no reason to be
upset.” She looked across the carriage at the two of them with an
indulgent smile.

“
But the carriage! Won’t
your son be furious?” The smell alone might be enough reason for
him to toss them out.

Of course, that wouldn’t
necessarily be the worst fate Jane could encounter. She
would
be in London, after
all. What better place to start her business, what with all the
society ladies out and about, and always in need of new attire to
keep up with the latest trends?

“
Let me worry about Peter.
Besides, he owns many other carriages. If his servants can’t remove
the stench, then he can use a different one. You just take care of
your Mr. Cuddlesworth.”

At precisely that moment, the cat left
Jane’s lap and leapt onto Cousin Henrietta’s. He shoved his head
against her hand until she began to scratch beneath his chin.
Goodness. He had never behaved like that, at least not with anyone
but Jane.

“
Mr. Cuddlesworth! You
naughty boy, you’ve not been invited to sit with her. I do
apologize, ma’am. As you can see, he has a mind of his
own.”

He purred in contentment, with his
head thrown back to give the dowager’s fingers better access to his
most sensitive spot and his eyes closed in pure feline
ecstasy.