Almost a Princess (2 page)

“As I said, the matter is urgent.” And bowing slightly, he left her.

Jane waited until the door closed behind him, then she let out a huff of breath. Her hands curled into fists. There was something about Lord Castleton that rubbed her the wrong way. If he’d been less intimidating, she would have given him Letty’s direction. Or maybe she wouldn’t. He’d gone to a great deal of trouble to find Letty and that made her uneasy.

He’d been to St. Bede’s. She wondered how much Miss Hepburn had told him. Not that the head-mistress would have gossiped about her, but she might have let something slip inadvertently.

She’d told him where to find her.

No harm done, Jane assured herself. The earl hadn’t come for her. It was Letty he wanted to see, and Letty had nothing to hide.

Letty would have to see him, or course. He wasn’t the kind of man one could ignore. She’d known that even before she met him in person. Lady Sophy was very proud of her great-nephew and the man she described didn’t know the meaning of defeat, whether he was pursuing his light-skirts or fighting battles.

A plain-spoken woman was Lady Sophy Devere.

Jane wondered how Lady Sophy would describe
her,
Jane Mayberry. A young woman who rarely went out in society but devoted all her energies to the cause? A bluestocking? At twenty-six, a confirmed spinster who went out of her way to avoid men? A lone wolf?

Mirrors reflecting mirrors, that’s what these glimpses of someone’s character were, not illusions exactly, but not revealing the whole truth either. She supposed much the same could be said about Lord Castleton.

This brought to mind something else Lady Sophy once said about her nephew. The war had changed him, not for the worse, not for the better, but he was different, less open, more prone to moods.

Jane thought about this as she mixed the harts-horn powder into a thick paste. Letty had hoped that the army would be the making of Gideon. She’d never met Letty’s brother, but she’d heard enough from his sister to form an impression—careless, selfish, and not above using others for his own ends. Not that Letty saw her brother in that light. According to Letty, Gideon was the victim of circumstances, and when his circumstances improved, he would change. All he needed was another chance.

It was true that he’d had a hard life. The family had fallen on hard times when the father died. Letty had been sent at once to St. Bede’s as a boarder, but Gideon and his mother ended up in the poorhouse, where the mother died soon after. The poorhouse wasn’t exactly a great builder of character. If he took advantage of people, maybe he had cause.

He had one redeeming quality that could not be denied. He’d been devoted to his mother. If he’d lived, he might have made something of himself.

But Gideon’s chances had run out in Spain. He’d been reported as missing and his body had never been found.

She stopped mixing the paste and stared into space. What possible connection, she wondered, could Castleton have with a soldier who had never advanced beyond the rank of corporal?

A whining sound brought her out of her reverie. Lance’s watchful eyes were on her. “I’m not sad,” she told him. “I’m just in a reflective mood.”

She knelt down and scratched behind his ears. “Some help you turned out to be. I thought you had a sixth sense about people. Didn’t you hear what Lord Castleton said? He said he would shoot you.
Shoot
is a bad word.”

Lance thumped his tail on the floor.

“Well, at least you didn’t fawn all over him. Not that he would let you. Mustn’t spoil that immaculate tailoring with a few stray dog hairs.”

Lance gave her his doggie smile.

She looked down at her gown and made a face. Her skirt was covered in dog hair. “Did I forget to groom you today?”

Lance’s response was to cock his head to one side.

She sighed. “I know. I’ve been preoccupied lately, but not for much longer. We’re going home, boy. Just think of it—open spaces, meadows, trees, badgers, foxes. You’ll have a grand old time.”

But before that happened, she wanted to make quite sure that she’d shaken off the earl. His lordship was a complication she could well do without right now.

Case went in search of Lady Octavia, but it wasn’t to ask where he could find pen and paper. He had not known that Mrs. Gray was a member here until Miss Mayberry mentioned it. Now he saw a way of circumventing her. Not that he would have left anything to chance anyway. Mrs. Letitia Gray would see him whether she wanted to or not.

He found Lady Octavia in the library, overseeing the disposal of a portrait that hung above the marble mantel.

“Lady Mary’s father,” she said to Case by way of explanation. “The old earl, and a most objectionable man. His treatment of his wife and daughter was reprehensible. We can’t have him presiding over our assemblies. He would act as a blight.”

To the two footmen who had removed the painting from the wall, she said, “Take him to the attics,” then to Case, but this time with a twinkle in her eyes, “There’s a lesson for you here, Lord Castleton. Consider how your wife or daughter will dispose of
your
portrait when you’re gone.”

He answered her with a patient smile.

“Lady Octavia,” he said, “I’m trying to find a lady who is a member here, Mrs. Letitia Gray, or perhaps you know her as Letitia Piers. Can you tell me where she lives?”

“We never give out that kind of information,” she said. “It’s the library’s policy.”

“But you know me! All I want is to speak with Mrs. Gray. What harm is there in that?”

She regarded him steadily. “We have these policies for a reason, you know. Experience has taught us that it’s safer this way. Anyway, before you try to persuade me to change my mind, let me say at once that no Letitia Gray or Letitia Piers has ever been a member of the Ladies’ Library.”

“You’re sure of that?”

“Perfectly. Our membership list is small, and each lady on it is personally known to me. You’ve been misinformed.”

He’d been misinformed, all right, deliberately misinformed by Jane Mayberry. It had come down to a tussle of wills. There was no doubt in his mind who would win the contest. Then he’d find out why Miss Mayberry was so determined to protect her friend.

“Miss Mayberry,” he began, and let the name hang there, inviting a response.

“What about Jane?”

He smiled and shook his head. “She interests me. I don’t know what to make of her.”

“Oh?”

This was not the response he was hoping for so he took a more direct approach. “How would you describe her?”

Until that moment, he had not known that Lady Octavia’s placid, fading blue eyes could pierce like the point of a blade.

“Look away from Jane Mayberry,” she said. “She is not for you. You can have any woman you want. Leave Jane alone.”

He took a moment to gather himself, a moment to rein in his formidable temper, to assume all the dignity and arrogance of his rank. “You are mistaken, ma’am,” he said. “You must be confusing me with someone else.”

“Jane,” replied Lady Octavia, regarding him thoughtfully, “has not had an easy life since her father died. I think she has found a measure of peace with us. I don’t want to see that peace disturbed.”

He didn’t know where elderly ladies got their gall. It was the same with his Great Aunt Sophy. Once they passed a certain age, they thought they could say anything they liked to anyone.

“I doubt,” he said, not quite truthfully, “that Miss Mayberry and I shall have occasion to meet again, and if by chance we do, I shall endeavor to look the other way.”

“I’m very glad to hear it.”

Gritting his teeth, he stalked off.

Five minutes later, he returned to the pantry with the letter in his hand. Jane Mayberry was assiduously polishing a silver tray. The dog rose at Caspar’s entrance, but this time there were no bared fangs, only a bark of welcome.

“Your dog is very intelligent,” said Case as he handed her the letter.

“That’s a matter of opinion.” She pointed to her dog, who then sank to the floor and gazed at her with soulful eyes.

“Till four o’clock then,” said Case.

“Four o’clock,” she replied.

He bowed. She curtsied. The moment he left the room, however, his smile faded. Whatever had put that maggot into Lady Octavia’s mind? And what role did she think he had planned for Jane Mayberry, his mistress or his wife? Either way, the idea was laughable.

Chapter 2

As soon as Lord Castleton left the house, Lady Octavia went to the pantry to talk to Jane. She wasn’t a busybody, she told herself. It was just that she wanted to put Jane on her guard. Lord Castleton had that look about him, not smitten, or obsessed, or love-struck, or anything so exaggerated or vulgar.
Arrested
was the word she wanted. Jane had made quite an impression on the earl, but he wouldn’t let it rest there. He would be back for more.

In her opinion, men like Castleton were truly dangerous, not because they were predators, but because they had a way with women. Even sensible, level-headed girls like Jane had been known to succumb to the flattering attentions of experienced men of the world. And Lord Castleton was definitely a man of the world.

Of all the young women who volunteered at the library, Jane was the one she was closest to, or as close as Jane would allow. They’d met about four years ago, when Jane arrived at the library looking for a place to stay, having heard that the library occasionally leased rooms to single women in the upstairs floors. She wasn’t looking for charity, Jane said. She could pay her way. And it wouldn’t be for long. She had acquired a dog and hoped to find a place in the country close to town. Meantime, would the dog be a problem?

Of course the dog was a problem! Lady Octavia had opened her mouth to utter the polite words of rejection and surprised herself by saying the opposite. There was something about Jane Mayberry and her dog that was hard to resist. On reflection, she decided that these two were battle-scarred and it would be unfeeling to turn them away.

In the beginning, Jane kept pretty much to herself, but as she began to spend more time in the library, she became more and more involved. She wrote pamphlets and speeches and made herself indispensable, but she never stayed in town for long. She’d found that little place in the country and that was the life she loved.

It wasn’t, however, the life Lady Octavia wanted for her protégée. Jane was too much on her own. She suspected that an unhappy love affair had turned Jane into a confirmed spinster, but Jane never explained her circumstances, except to say that she’d spent most of her life in Scotland and had had to earn her own living after her father died.

Lady Octavia understood Jane’s desire to bury herself in the country only too well, or she thought she did. She herself had suffered through two disastrous marriages and had been released from them only when her respective husbands had had the grace to make her a widow. She’d cut herself off from society as well, but when Mr. Burrel, her banker, who had become her best friend, asked her to marry him, she’d known it was the right thing to do. And the last twenty years had been the happiest of her life.

She wanted to tell Jane that not all men were rogues, that hearts could mend, and one day she might well meet a man who would be right for her.

But that man would not be Lord Castleton.

As was her way, she didn’t waste words on small talk when she found Jane in the pantry. “Well, Jane,” she said, “what do you think of Lady Sophy’s nephew?”

Jane replaced a silver tray in its rack before answering. “He’s everything his aunt said he was.”

Lady Octavia smiled uncertainly. “You like him,” she said.

“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far.” Jane’s dimples flashed. “Lady Sophy said that her nephew could be a tyrant when someone stood up to him. And she was right.”

Lady Octavia laughed, then shook her head. “Be on your guard. I think he fancies you.”

Jane stared, then said slowly and distinctly, “I don’t know him. He doesn’t know me. We met for the first time not half an hour ago.”

“You’ve never met him before?”

“No.”

This seemed to deflate Lady Octavia. “Oh. I thought perhaps you’d met at the opera.”

“I’ve seen him there, but I don’t think he has seen me.” Once again, Jane’s dimples flashed. “I’m not saying his eyes haven’t alighted on me, but that’s not the same as seeing me, is it?”

“No. And you should be thankful for it. But now he has seen you, so be on your guard.”

Jane let out a rich laugh. “I was rude to him. I refused to give him my friend’s address without her permission, and, as I told you, he turned nasty. That’s all there was to it.”

“Maybe that’s what piqued his interest. He’s not used to women saying no to him.”

“I can well believe it, but we weren’t in each other’s company for more than five minutes. What on earth did he say to you to get you fired up like this?”

“He said very little. It’s my intuition—” Lady Octavia observed that Jane was becoming annoyed and she floundered a little. “What I mean is, he’ll probably marry a princess or someone who is almost a princess. A man in his position will be expected to marry well.”

Jane’s voice was cool and controlled. “I’m not interested in marrying anyone.”

Lady Octavia quickly crossed to Jane and took her hands. “Forgive me, my dear. I mean no offense. If you had a mother—well, well, I’m not your mother, so it isn’t my place to say anything.”

After this little speech, Jane’s expression softened considerably and she returned the pressure of Lady Octavia’s hands. “I will confess,” she said musingly, “that if I were almost a princess, I might be tempted. He’s very handsome, isn’t he? Then again—” She made a face. “Maybe not. He’s not my idea of a prince.”

Lady Octavia laughed, then, in one of her characteristic, lightning shifts, moved on to something else. “So, Jane, you’re going home tomorrow?”

Jane nodded cautiously. “Right after breakfast. I would stay on to help out if I could, but I’m expecting company. I thought I told you.”

“Ah, yes. Now I remember.” Her ladyship beamed. “An old school friend. I think that’s splendid. And it will do you good to get out of the city. I know you’re a country girl at heart. And don’t give the library another thought. There are more than enough volunteers to help us get settled. Just enjoy yourself, Jane. Just enjoy yourself.”

She left, but returned almost at once. “Do you go to the opera tonight?” she asked.

Dimples winked then went out. “I do,” Jane replied, “but I promise not to elope with Lord Castleton unless I have your permission.”

Lady Octavia stared, mumbled something about “a silly chit,” and closed the door behind her with a decided snap.

Jane shook her head. Lady Octavia was muddled and confusing. She often spoke without thinking. But these were small faults. She also possessed a heart that was as big as the ocean. Her ladyship had helped
her
when she needed help. And there were countless others like her. She could be forgiven for taking a proprietary interest in all her lame ducks. She only wanted what was best for them.

On the other hand, it was a mistake to underestimate her or her devotion to the cause of women’s rights. Government ministers had been known to quake in their boots when her ladyship went on the rampage. It helped that she was highly connected. Her brother was a marquess and her husband owned one of the biggest banks in London. Everyone owed him money, even the prince regent, if rumor was to be believed.

Warm breath on her hand brought her gaze to her dog. Lance looked up at her with bright, intelligent eyes. Jane laughed and scratched behind his ears. “And she loves dogs,” she said, “so of course we are among her staunchest admirers. Now, let’s finish up here and run that errand for Lord Castleton.”

As she polished the last silver tray, a picture of the earl formed in her mind. She remembered the quick flashes of humor in his eyes, the careless smile. The warning from Lady Octavia was unnecessary. His reputation with women was well established. He was a practiced flirt.

Only . . . her brow knit in a frown, and she stared blindly at her reflection in the highly polished silver tray . . . only, the odd times she’d studied him at the opera, to his credit, he was an attentive escort. He didn’t let his eyes roam from one pretty woman to another as did some gentlemen she could name. His mistress, La Contessa, was just the opposite. She could not be satisfied until every man came under her spell. Maybe that’s why Lord Castleton and his mistress were no longer together.

And maybe he’d grown bored, as was the way of men, and his wandering eye had alighted on a better prospect.

She didn’t need to be told that he would marry well, but there weren’t too many princesses going around, not unless Prince Michael had a sister. He was the man Lady Rosamund had almost married before she was literally swept off her feet by Richard Maitland, Chief of Staff of Special Branch. Prince Michael’s courtship of Lady Rosamund was written up in the papers, too.

That was the thing about the Deveres. Their names were never out of the papers. It seemed as though the public could not get enough of them. Lady Rosamund and her husband, for instance, were in Scotland, visiting Colonel Maitland’s parents; the younger son, Lord Justin, was in Italy on a belated grand tour, the war having interrupted his first attempt to take in Europe; and Lady Sophy Devere had come up from Hampshire to attend the opening of the New Ladies’ Library in the Strand, and was now residing with her nephew, the duke, in Twickenham House, the Deveres’ palatial home just outside London.

It went on and on, and dolt that she was, she couldn’t get enough of the Deveres either.

What wasn’t written up in the papers was the shady side to the Devere men. La Contessa’s name had never been mentioned in connection with Lord Castleton, except by word of mouth. Gossip. She knew it was spurious; she knew she shouldn’t listen to it, but how could she help it? If people didn’t talk about the Deveres, they’d have nothing to say.

Nobody had ever taken any notice of her family, except their own friends. When she was a child, her father had taken a position at the university in Edinburgh, and that’s where she’d spent most of her life. In fact, those were the happiest days of her life, with her mother and father, and the friends who used to crowd into their little drawing room on a Saturday night to talk and play a little music and sing. Not that her father could sing a note. He was tone deaf. But her mother loved music, especially opera, and her father’s pleasure came from indulging his wife.

Her father had been a good man.

She wondered what kind of husband the earl would make. According to Lady Sophy, all the Devere men made the best of husbands—loyal, protective, faithful, and unfailingly kind.

“Just like you, Lance,” Jane said. “But it’s my belief that a woman is better off with a dog.” Unless she could find someone like her father, of course, but in her experience, such men were few and far between.

She gazed into space, remembering . . .

Suddenly coming to herself, she gave herself a mental shake. She was beginning to feel sorry for herself and that set her teeth on edge.

With a shake of her head, she cleared her brain and began to tidy things away.