The Perfect Lady Worthe (3 page)

And now he’d think she was spoiled and full of self-pity.

She sighed.

“I don’t want to be an inconvenience.” It wasn’t a lie.

Lord Worthe snorted. “Whether you want to be or not you’ll be one. Just like your sister and Jemma.” He stretched his long legs out in front of him and crossed his ankles. “Since these two aren’t planning to leave—” he flickered his mossy gaze to Mrs. Fairchilde and Charlotte who both wore apprehensive expressions, but shook their heads slowly in what she took as agreement with him— “you might as well stay then, too.”

“Well, with an invitation such as that, how could I possibly think to leave?” Jane muttered before she could think better of it.

“It’s settled, then.” Lord Worthe flashed her a wide grin. “You’re all staying.” He shoved to his feet and handed her back her lap blanket, then reached down and picked up the parchment she’d been using to compile a list of possible gentlemen for Charlotte to pursue. Before handing it to Jane, however, he skimmed the list, his left eyebrow inching higher on his forehead with each name he read.

Lord Worthe gave a low whistle. “Holbrook must be the cruelest brother in existence,” he mused, handing Jane her list.

“What is that to mean?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Scoundrels. Every one of them.”

Jane furrowed her brow. “Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Perhaps you could help us, then,” Mrs. Fairchilde suggested.

“Hel—er… no,” Lord Worthe said without hesitation. He gave his head a shake. “It’s bad enough I’ll have to be Holbrook’s second if—no,
when
—he duels with any of the names on that list. I’ll not go so far as to make any suggestions and be the one he calls out.”

His words gave Jane pause. There was something more to what he said than just him not wanting to be trapped into spending time with them, but what, she didn’t know. “Are all of these gentlemen scoundrels?”

“Yes.” The conviction in his voice sent a flood of disappointment through her. “Just where did you come up with these names, I wonder?”

“The scandal sheets,” Charlotte supplied matter-of-factly.

“You don’t say,” Lord Worthe muttered. He shook his head ruefully. “You ladies do know those who appear in scandal sheets are mentioned for a reason.”

“Yes, because they’ve been involved in a scandal,” Jane said without hesitation.

Lord Worthe’s face lost all expression. “And you
want
that?”

“Of course,” Jane said heartily. “Lady Algen writes that reformed rakes make for the best husbands.”

“The devil they do,” Lord Worthe scoffed. “I’m not your brother, but since I don’t relish the thought of being his second, I’ll give you this advice: find a gentleman whose name has not been bandied about in the scandal sheets and you’ll live a far better existence.”

Jane’s lips spread into a smile of their own accord and she didn’t have a care to stop them. “So I
was
right.”

Lord Worthe crossed his arms and gave her a pointed look. “Pray tell?”

“I don’t recall ever seeing
your
name in the scandal sheets.”

Chapter Four

Gareth felt like a salmon swimming upstream.

He hadn’t been able to pinpoint what that gleam in Jane’s eyes was when he first saw her, but there was no mistaking what it was after their final words in the drawing room: mischief. The lady was full of it.

And she was staying at his house.

He groaned.

Jemma, for as much as he thought she’d be a suitable chaperone, being a widow and all, was clearly not the best choice. What was she doing helping them compile a list of suitors from the scandal sheets? Wasn’t that what
Debrett’s
was for?

He groaned again.

Holbrook wouldn’t be arriving for another day. A lot could happen in such a short time with a feisty young lady with a goose for a chaperone. Perhaps he should leave for London tonight. No, the Season there wouldn’t start for at least a fortnight and there was little he hated more than being cooped up in his townhouse.

Refusing to groan again, he made his way out to the stables and saddled up Pegasus. Though not a thoroughbred, his stallion had unmatched strength and speed. Riding at a hell-for-leather speed had always helped him clear his mind.

Unfortunately, this particular ride did no such thing.

“Won’t you join us for dinner tonight?” Jemma asked when he’d taken not three steps in the front door.

“Do I have a choice?”

“You always have a choice.” She worried her bottom lip. She really was an attractive young lady. Just an inch or two above five feet, her features were soft and delicate right down to her light blonde hair and pale grey eyes. “Thank you for talking to Jane earlier.”

Gareth stared at her. Why did his talking to Jane warrant a thank you? “For convincing her to stay?” he ventured.

“That, too,” she agreed. “I think she is nervous.”

Gareth snorted. “She hides it well.” She had no problem holding her own with him. A smile tugged at his lips and he immediately pressed his lips together. She was Holbrook’s sister for pity’s sake.

“Regardless, thank you.”

Muttering something of an acceptance, he offered Jemma his arm and escorted her to the dining room.

Then froze.

“Why are we all congregating at this end?” he asked without ceremony.

“So we can hear each other,” Jemma said as if she were speaking to a simpleton.

His dining table could easily seat forty people, if he were so inclined to invite that many to dinner. He’d never been overly fond of the rules of polite society, but shouldn’t he be at one end, Jemma at the other and the two sisters seated across from each other in the middle? Why did they need to be close enough to talk anyway?

“Stop grumbling and take your seat, my lord,” Jemma said with a wink and a nudge in the direction of his seat at the end of the table.

Suddenly he felt very childish for his wish not to sit so close to the ladies. Tamping down his slight embarrassment, he took his seat. His chair just so happened to be flanked by both sisters, one on either side of him.

“Miss Cavanaugh, Miss Charlotte,” he greeted.

“Lord Worthe,” they both murmured in unison.

Gareth put his napkin on his lap. It was rare for him to have a dinner companion, or any type of companion. Having grown up as an only child without a mother and with a father who would rather be anywhere his son wasn’t, hadn’t afforded him much training in the art of chitchat. His first year at Eton he’d made a handful of friends, but with time the silken strings of friendship had severed and, save Holbrook, he had just as many friends and acquaintances now as he had when he’d first gone off to school.

“In deep thought down there, Worthe?” Mrs. Fairchilde’s voice pulled Gareth from his fog.

“Steam spiraling out of my ears again?” Gareth teased.

“No, your face is contorted as if you’re suffering from—” Jane broke off abruptly, her face flushing a fierce and fetching red.

“Do continue,” Gareth urged, pulling apart his dinner roll.

“I think it’d be best if I didn’t,” she said, flushing again.

“Well, that’s no fun,” he said on a sigh, reaching for his fork. He stabbed a piece of baked chicken on his plate and brought it to his mouth.

“And neither is the ailment you look as if you’re suffering from,” she said oh-so-sweetly.

He released a sharp bark of laughter. “Indeed.” He ate another piece of chicken. “Have you all settled into your new rooms?”

“Yes, my lord,” Charlotte said. “Thank you again for allowing us to stay at your home. It was most kind and generous of you.”

“Please don’t mention it again,” Gareth murmured. “Unlike your brother, I’m painfully shy. Particularly about praise.”

Laughter, belonging to the outspoken Jane, filled the air.

A hot coil tightened in his stomach, jarring him straight to the toes. He tightened his hold on his fork. Her laughter, he’d just realized, could be his undoing. It’d be best not to elicit such a response from her in the future. For if he did, it could only lead to his own destruction.

“While you certainly have Michael pinned, I find it hard to believe that you have such a strong aversion to praise,” Jane said.

“Do you wish to find out?”

“Are you fishing for compliments, Lord Worthe?”

That brought him up short. “No.”

“Uh huh.” She held his gaze and brought a forkful of beans to her mouth.

“I don’t have to fish,” he said, holding her gaze as he took a bite of his own beans.

She swallowed what was in her mouth. “Is that because you don’t know how?”

“I can catch the biggest trout in the shire with only a black fly.”

“And praise makes you uncomfortable, does it?” she asked, a triumphant smile taking her lips.

Deuce take it, she was good.

~*~

“I’m so sorry, Charlotte,” Jane blurted as soon as Mrs. Fairchilde left them alone.

“It’s all right.” Charlotte’s voice sounded different, but Jane couldn’t place what it was.

“No, it’s not.” She reached behind her to still Charlotte’s hand where she was brushing Jane’s hair. “I’ll apologize to him first thing in the morning.” Then plead with him to allow Charlotte to stay. She’d return home, but Charlotte didn’t deserve to be sent away because of her own quick tongue.

Charlotte pulled her hand from Jane’s staying hold and continued in her brushing. “It might be best not to say anything.”

Not saying anything was what led to a very uncomfortable dinner. After she’d accused Lord Worthe of fishing for compliments, then baited him, not another word had been spoken by anyone for the remainder of the meal. A blanket of uncomfortable silence had enveloped them all until Lord Worthe took his leave.

Surely he’d gone to his study to send for Michael to come collect them. She rubbed her temples where a headache was forming. This was her fault. She should have left well enough alone.

But he’s so fun to banter with.

That was true enough. It was fun to banter with him. He was the only one it seemed who had no reservation about exchanging retorts with her. But she had taken it too far this time. Even being cooped up and kept away from people for so much of her life she knew better than to prick a man’s pride. Which is exactly what she’d done and ruined her sister’s chance for a Season at the same time.

“I’m sorry,” she said again.

“Don’t be.” Charlotte set the brush down. “I rather think he likes it.”

“You what?”

Charlotte walked over to a red velvet bell pull and gave it two quick tugs, then retrieved Jane a clean shift from her trunk. “I think you heard me.”

“Surely not correctly.”

Charlotte unfolded Jane’s shift and aired it out. “Yes, you did.” She sat down on the settee and looked around the room that earlier today had been only the drawing room, but would have to be treated as Jane’s bedchamber at night due to there not being any downstairs bedchambers. She bit her lip. “I can’t explain it, but I don’t think he was as offended as you think he was.”

Jane doubted that, but wasn’t given a chance to argue when one of Lord Worthe’s servants opened the door.

Charlotte quickly explained that they’d need Thea sent in to help Jane get ready for bed.

The maid looked a bit confused, but didn’t argue.

“Would you like for me to stay with you?” Charlotte offered.

“No, I’ll be all right.” When Father had died three years ago, Michael had a special chair commissioned for Jane with green velvet cushions and a reclining back. It wasn’t the most comfortable thing to rest on, but it suited well enough for short naps. It might take a little getting used to, but with the back reclined and an ottoman for her feet, it should be all right.

Thea came in then and wordlessly, she and Charlotte began helping Jane change for bed. As usual, Thea knelt on the floor and removed Jane’s slippers and stockings while Jane leaned forward so Charlotte could unbutton the back of her gown. When Thea finished, she came up to help Charlotte untie as much of Jane’s corset as they could reach with her still in the chair.

“Ready?”

Jane gripped the side of her chair and scooted her bottom to the end. “Yes.” She hated this part. Her legs were so withered and weak that the few minutes she had to stand to dress and undress were almost unbearable at times.

“The bookshelf looks sturdy,” Charlotte said, gripping Jane just above the elbow.

Thea took her stance and on the count of three, the three of them worked together to get Jane to a standing position.

Jane immediately reached out her right hand to the edge of the bookcase for support and rested the other one on Thea’s shoulder.

Both of the other women worked as quickly as they could to loosen the remaining fastenings on Jane’s gown.

Charlotte’s arm slipped around her just under her shoulders and Thea began pulling off her left sleeve. Once she’d freed her arm, Jane reached her unsteady left arm across to hold the bookcase with that hand so Thea could remove her other sleeve.

Thea slid her gown, corset, and shift down and Jane’s hand tightened its clammy grip on the edge of the bookcase to steady her trembling body.
Almost done,
she reassured herself when Thea untied her petticoat. Really, there was no reason for her to wear them other than her desire to be seen—and treated—like everyone else as much as possible. Pride was such a damnable thing sometimes.

“Ready to sit?” Thea asked.

Jane was more than ready. Maintaining her hold on the edge of the bookcase, she reached back her right hand to find the armrest of her chair, then slowly lowered herself into it before taking her fresh shift from Charlotte while Thea went to the floor to gather the pile of discarded clothes that were pooled around Jane’s feet.

Quickly, she pulled her shift over her head then shimmied it down as far as it would go in her sitting position. Over the years, they’d tried a combination of ways to help her change and this was the easiest way they’d found. She might get her pride in wearing petticoats, but she’d sacrificed some by having to wait to sit before pulling on a new shift and waiting again until she was lying down to pull it all the way down. But every attempt she’d made at trying to pull it on while still standing had led to a painful fall. Pride only went so far.

“Shall we move a little closer to the fire?” Thea suggested when she returned to Jane’s side.

Jane nodded once then allowed Charlotte and Thea to push her chair closer to the fire. She’d always known Charlotte did a lot for her, but just then an overwhelming sensation of gratitude for her sister flooded her. Thea couldn’t help her dress or move Jane’s chair on her own. When Charlotte married and moved away, Thea would need help. Michael would hire another maid, she supposed, but it wouldn’t be the same.

Instinctively, she reached for Charlotte’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t push it by myself.”

Jane smiled and reached for Thea’s hand, too. “Thank you both. I don’t know where I’d be without the two of you.”

Neither said anything in response. There was nothing to say. Nobody could ever offer her the great care these two did and they all knew it.

Thea squeezed her hand in return then dashed off to retrieve the ottoman. She placed it by Jane’s feet and waited while Charlotte helped Jane lift her legs, then slid the ottoman into position.

“Are you ready to lean back?” Charlotte asked.

Jane nodded and reached for the hem of her shift. The best time to pull it down would be when Thea leaned her chair back.

Thea pulled a lever underneath the back part of her chair then slowly she and Charlotte guided the chair back down until Jane was lying flat.

“Thank you both.” Jane wiggled her shoulders to get comfortable.

“You’re welcome, dear,” Charlotte said, covering her with a blanket while Thea stoked the fire. It had seemed odd to Jane the first time she saw Thea bend down and stoke a fire but it only took once to learn this Scottish woman could build a fire better than any footman in Michael’s employ.