The Unlikely Lady (7 page)

Lucy nodded regally, something she'd been practicing ever since she became a duchess. “Mrs. Langford,” she intoned.

The widow curtsied formally. Once she straightened she said, “Your Grace. It's so lovely to meet you. I am quite overwhelmed with gratitude that you would come and greet me.”

“Not at all,” Lucy responded, barely inclining her head. “I was anxious to meet the friend of my cousin Mr. Garrett Upton.”

Jane nearly took off her spectacles and rubbed her eyes. The look on Mrs. Langford's face the moment Upton's name was mentioned was downright … coy? Shy? Flirtatious? Her cheeks turned a lovely shade of rose, and she averted her gaze. “It's an honor to call Mr. Upton a friend,” she said, still not meeting Lucy's eyes.

Jane snapped her brows together. An honor? To call Upton a friend? Upton? Were they speaking of the same man?

“I'm certain Garrett is looking forward to seeing you,” Cass replied.

There was that coy blush again. It seemed so misplaced on the cheeks of a woman who had to be at
least
thirty.

“I hope you don't mind,” Mrs. Langford said, “but I brought my footman, Boris, with me. I couldn't go anywhere without him. Why, he's nearly as precious to me as my maid.”

The maid and footman stood several paces behind their mistress. Boris was tall and dark with slightly curly brown hair. He had wide-set dark eyes and a look on his face that was a bit too arrogant for a footman. The maid, however, had bowed her dark head and cast her eyes downward. She reeked with obsequiousness. Jane had never taken such a dislike to servants upon sight. Good heavens, she was up far too early if she was bothered by innocent servants.

“It's perfectly fine,” Cass's mother replied graciously. “We'll be happy to find a place for your footman to sleep and of course your maid is always welcome.”

A bright smile flashed across Mrs. Langford's face. “You are too kind.”

“I do hope you've brought something to wear for the masquerade tomorrow night,” Cass added.

Mrs. Langford's ever-present smile turned nearly predatory. “Yes, indeed. I'm
greatl
y looking forward to it.”

Cass's mother went about ordering the butler to take Boris under his wing and show the maid and Mrs. Langford to their rooms. A team of footmen from the Moreland household materialized to unload Mrs. Langford's trunks from the overburdened carriage.

“Poor horses,” Jane mumbled under her breath.

“What was that, dear?” Lucy asked.

“Nothing, nothing at all.”

Mrs. Langford swept toward the staircase, escorted by the Morelands' servants. She turned to look over her shoulder at the three ladies still standing in the foyer. “I do hope we shall all become the best of friends this week. Any friend of Mr. Upton's is a dear, dear friend of mine.”

Jane narrowed her eyes. Who exactly was this Isabella Langford?

 

CHAPTER TEN

Garrett spent the morning riding out to look at the Moreland lands with Swifdon, Claringdon, and Cass's brother, Owen Monroe, the future Earl of Moreland.

Like the others, Swifdon was also a large man. A former army captain himself, he was blond with a quick smile and friendly gray eyes that matched his younger sister Daphne's. Monroe was also tall and blond but with the same deep blue eyes as his sister and a much more rakish air.

They'd already discussed livestock, farming, estate managers, and the like when Swifdon turned toward his future brother-in-law. “Your estate here borders Upbridge Hall?”

“Yes,” Monroe replied. “That's how Cass and Lucy have been such fast friends all these years. They grew up together.”

Garrett cleared his throat. “If Lucy and Cass became friends because of the proximity of their homes, how did Miss Lowndes end up in their little group? Her father only has a house in London from what I understand.” Now where had that come from? It was a question he'd never bothered to ask the ladies, but suddenly he was quite interested in knowing the answer.

“Ah, this is a story I know,” Claringdon replied.

“Really?” Swifdon said. “I don't think Cassie's ever mentioned it to me. I hadn't thought much of it, honestly.”

“I've never known,” Monroe admitted. “I assume they met at a party somewhere.”

The men navigated their mounts along the line of trees that bordered a long meadow.

“Yes,” Claringdon said. “It was at a party. Lucy and Cass's come-out ball. Miss Lowndes had already been out for a Season.”

Miss Lowndes was a year older than Lucy and Cass? Garrett hadn't known that.

“They met at a come-out, nothing too special about that.” Monroe shrugged.

“Yes, but it was the
way
they met that is typical to Lucy. To all of them, really.”

“What happened?” Garrett mentally cursed himself for the note of curiosity in his voice.

“Cass, of course, was the belle of the ball,” Claringdon said.

Swifdon grinned at the mention of his bride. “Of course.”

“She had a queue of suitors lined up to dance with her. Her mother was beside herself with excitement,” Claringdon said.

Owen snorted. “Mother should have saved herself the trouble. If only we'd all known that Cass intended to reject every last one of them because she was pining away for you, Swifdon, waiting for you to return from the war.”

Swifdon's grin widened. “I can't help it if I was unforgettable.”

Garrett and Claringdon laughed out loud at that.

“Apparently, in addition to warding off the suitors in whom she had no interest, Cass was preoccupied with Lucy's lack of success. As you said, Monroe, they were great friends and Cass has a kind heart. She couldn't abide the fact that Lucy was wilting in the corner with the other wallflowers.”

“Ah, enter Miss Lowndes,” Garrett said with a smirk.

“Yes,” Claringdon replied. “Apparently, Lucy marched over to Jane and demanded to know why she was reading a book in the middle of a ball.”

Garrett snorted this time.

“‘Look around you,' Jane replied, ‘see anything better to do? I assure you my dance card is entirely blank and this book is far more fascinating than watching all the gentlemen vie for Lady Cassandra Monroe's attention,'” Claringdon continued.

“That sounds like Jane Lowndes,” Owen Monroe said with a grin, one that made Garrett feel a twinge of annoyance.

Claringdon kept talking. “‘Cassandra is a dear,' Lucy said to Jane. ‘I'm certain she is,' Jane said to Lucy, ‘and I am not. Which is why gentlemen are not lined up to dance with me. Now, if you intend to stand there, would you mind moving a bit to the right? You'll block the view of my mother and she detests it when she finds me reading a book at a ball.'”

“Then what happened?” Swifdon asked, his gray eyes lit with amusement.

“Then Lucy burst into laughter, moved to the right to accommodate Jane, and asked her if she had another book in her reticule that Lucy could borrow. They've been inseparable ever since.”

All of the men laughed and Garrett shook his head. That story did sound exactly like Jane and Lucy. A wonder he'd never heard it before. He'd come to Lucy's come-out later in the evening and danced with her. Lucy had told him he was the only gentleman to do so. Garrett had thought she'd been exaggerating. Apparently, she had not. For all her beauty, Lucy had already garnered a reputation for ripping men to shreds with her tongue. The men of the
ton
had been duly scared off, until Claringdon arrived and gave as good as he got from her.

“You know, Jane Lowndes is considered a bluestocking by some, but I think she's actually quite an attractive young lady,” Monroe said.

Garrett's eyes narrowed on the future earl.

“That's rich coming from you, Monroe. I don't think there's a lady alive whom you couldn't charm or find attractive in some way,” Swifdon replied.

Monroe had a rakish grin on his face, a bit too leering for Garrett's taste. “I'm merely saying she's easy on the eyes. I'd like to see her with those spectacles off and a bit of—”

“My home isn't far from here.” Garrett cleared his throat loudly. “Shall we ride over and I'll show you the property?”

Monroe shrugged, but the wolfish grin remained on his face.

“In addition to your home nearby, one day you will call Upbridge Hall home, Upton,” Claringdon pointed out.

“Yes.” Garrett studied his leather gloves where they gripped the reins. It was inevitable. He would be the Earl of Upbridge one day, but damn how he wished his cousin Ralph had lived. It wasn't that he didn't want to be the earl. He didn't want to be the earl at his cousin's expense, not to mention the fact that his uncle had detested him his entire life as a result.

“Lucy's brother died of fever when he was nine,” Monroe added for Swifdon's sake.

“Yes, Cassie told me,” Swifdon replied. “Damn shame. But I know you'll do the Upbridge name proud, Upton.”

Garrett's grip tightened. “My thanks, Swifdon. I hope I'll be able to help you in Parliament one day. But as my uncle is in good health as far as I know, it won't be in time to assist with the veterans' bill.”

“Ah, yes. Derek mentioned that to me earlier this morning. I quite like the idea of expanding it.”

Monroe led the way toward Upton's property. The other men followed in line.

“I'm glad to hear that,” Garrett replied.

“Does your interest in the bill have anything to do with Isabella Langford?” Claringdon asked.

Damn that Claringdon, nothing escaped his notice.

“Her husband died. I was there…” Garrett murmured.

“I remember,” Swifdon said quietly.

Garrett quickly shook his head. “Yes, well, that reminds me. Cassandra told me last night that Isabella Langford is coming to the house party.”

“Is she?” Claringdon's voice held a note of surprise.

“Apparently she informed Cassandra that she and I are acquainted,” Garrett continued.

“Getting some unwanted attention from the widow?” Monroe said with another leering grin that Garrett didn't appreciate.

“Yes, actually,” Garrett replied. “Her attention is unwanted.”

“If I remember her correctly, Mrs. Langford is a great beauty. Just say the word,” Monroe replied, still leering. I'm only too happy to distract her for you if you like.”

Garrett straightened his shoulders. Monroe's rakishness was usually either an annoyance or an amusement, but today it might actually prove useful. “Thank you, Monroe. I'd like that.”

 

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Garrett took a deep breath before placing his hand on the handle, opening the door, and strolling into the drawing room that evening before dinner. He'd done an admirable job of remaining with the gentlemen all day in an effort to avoid encountering Isabella Langford. When they'd returned to the manor for tea in the afternoon, Garrett had declined. But dinner was unavoidable. He must face Isabella eventually. He wasn't usually uncomfortable around women, quite the opposite, actually. But being around Isabella brought back the memories of Harold—his mistake, his death. Guilt gnawed at Garrett especially viciously when Isabella was near.

He strode into the opulent rose silk–wallpapered room to see Cassandra, Lucy, and Miss Lowndes all busily talking to Mrs. Langford. The knot in his gut tightened.

The moment she saw him, Mrs. Langford's pale green eyes lit with a smile. “Mr. Upton, how good to see you.” Her joy made the guilt all the worse.

“Mrs. Langford,” he replied, with a nod and a bow. He did his best to smile. She wore a dark blue silk gown that hugged her figure. Isabella was gorgeous. There was no denying it, but he noticed it the same way he'd note his own sister was a beauty, if he'd had a sister. Well, Lucy then. Lucy was a beauty by all accounts, but to him she was just his cousin, the little ragamuffin of a girl who had chased him around and got dirty with him in his youth. Isabella may not have known Garrett as a child, but she was Harold's widow and that made her as undesirable as any sister or cousin would be.

“Wherever have you been this evening, Garrett?” Lucy asked, turning to greet him. “We've been waiting for you to go into dinner.”

“I'm sorry to have made you wait.” Garrett gave his cousin a kiss on the cheek.

“Yes, well, now that you're here, won't you escort Mrs. Langford into the dining room?” Cassandra requested prettily. No doubt she assumed he would be eager to renew his acquaintance with the widow. “I've seated you next to each other,” she added.

Garrett kept the smile pinned to his face. He glanced at Miss Lowndes who, thankfully—and unusually for her—remained silent. She merely raised her dark brows over the rims of her spectacles and gave him a look that told him she was wondering about the nature of his friendship with Isabella. Bloody perfect.

“By all means.” Garrett gestured toward the door where the other couples were lining up to make their way into the dining room. He looked back to see Miss Lowndes on the arm of Owen Monroe. Damn it. Why wasn't Monroe up here trying to charm Isabella as promised?

Garrett offered his arm to Isabella, who took it eagerly. They fell into step behind the others. The procession made its way into the dining room with its long polished mahogany table and dark green damask-covered chairs. Lord and Lady Moreland took their places at the head and foot of the table. Cassandra and Swifdon sat to their hostess's immediate right and left. Lucy and Derek, the Duke and Duchess of Claringdon, were next, seated across from each other. A few other guests filled in the space between, then Isabella, then Garrett. He took his seat and looked up to stare into the smugly smiling face of Jane Lowndes.

He wasn't certain exactly what a bluestocking face was, but surely it would look like Miss Lowndes's. She was the type of young woman who would argue with a gentleman about things like horses and history and theater and essentially any topic that came up in polite conversation and a few that did not. She
would
be sitting across from him all evening while he was forced to make awkward conversation with Isabella.