Page 20 of The Lady Was Lying (Greydon #3)

“Whether he has declared his intentions or not, the scandal sheets have taken notice.”

Jane’s hand covered her mouth. “They have?”

“Is that bad?” Belinda asked.

Jane shook her head as she reached out and picked up her chocolate. She blew on it carefully, even though it couldn’t possibly be hot any longer. “Gossip sheets do not always print the truth.”

“But they are rarely entirely untrue. The seed has been planted. We must water it.”

“I’d hardly call it a seed. We’ve danced once and conversed twice. It isn’t quite time to call the banns yet.”

“What has gotten into you?” Belinda asked. “What happened to twirling in circles and rhapsodizing about becoming a duchess?”

“I already told you, I’m not sure I’ve caught his interest,” Jane snapped with uncharacteristic bite.

Belinda blinked.

“The duke and I spoke again last night,” Jane said, “but he doesn’t fawn over me like the other gentlemen do.”

Belinda rolled her eyes. “Because he isn’t a blunderbuss. If you make your interest known, I’m confident he will return it.” He would be a fool not to.

“I don’t want to have to pursue a man to secure his interest,” Jane confessed softly. “I want to be pursued.”

“You cannot rely on a gentleman to do all the work. Not if you’ve decided you want him.”

“I haven’t made any decisions,” Jane claimed.

“But you like the duke. And you think he’d make an estimable husband.”

“That does not mean we will marry.”

“What else do you require to convince you?” Belinda challenged.

“That he like me in return.”

Belinda wanted to roll her eyes again. “Make him like you.”

“It isn’t that simple,” Jane responded. Her eyes narrowed. “I’m beginning to think you don’t know much about courtship.”

“I’m beginning to think so too.”

It had seemed so much easier in her head. Apologize to the duke. Nudge him and Jane together a handful of times. Watch them fall in love. Celebrate their nuptials.

Retire to the country and wallow in peace.

“I can’t believe you’re going to accompany us when we have an engagement.”

“Not all the time,” Belinda warned. “And you might not appreciate it once it’s happening.”

“Nonsense. Your company is always delightful.”

“Ha. We’ll see,” Belinda replied, less than happy with her progress, but just as committed to succeeding as she’d been when she climbed out of bed.

* * *

Hyde Park had not yet been completely overrun by the fashionable crowd, but neither was it empty as James strode along one of the many pathways looking for Emmeline and Arianna. He hadn’t located them yet when he was loudly hailed by Lord Rutherford.

“Your Grace,” the portly gentleman called, his voice booming across the open space.

Unable to convincingly pretend he hadn’t heard, James halted, shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun as the other man hurried toward him, a young woman trailing behind.

Lord Rutherford had been a friend of his father’s when they had been young men, and he had regaled James with stories from the past when they’d first been introduced.

They had encountered each other a handful of times since then, but never in mixed company.

“Allow me to present my daughter, Lady Catherine,” Rutherford said when he came to a halt, puffing up his chest and lengthening his neck in such a way that was clearly meant to be imposing.

“Lady Catherine,” he murmured, taking her gloved palm between his fingers and brushing his lips upon the back of her hand. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Your Grace,” she cooed, latching onto his arm as soon as he dropped her hand. “The pleasure is mine.”

Nearly a head shorter than him, she was swathed in pale pink from head to toe. Her bonnet and the sliver of gown that he could see were a slightly lighter hue than her pelisse, and even the flush of her cheeks was a complimentary shade of pink.

She was the embodiment of an English Rose. Demure. Unassuming. Pretty. By all accounts, he should be intrigued by her.

“Papa and I were about to take a turn about the park,” she said, batting her lashes.

“It is ideal weather to stretch one’s legs,” James murmured. The cold spell had snapped, and the temperature had risen enough to suggest that spring had arrived.

“I always say that a bit of exercise is good for the constitution,” Lord Rutherford declared quite loudly, his head swiveling left and then right as if he were hoping they were being watched. “Your Grace, you should join us.”

“Oh yes,” Lady Catherine added, her eyes wide and pleading. “Please join us.”

Even though he was due to meet Emmeline shortly, it seemed unforgivably rude to decline, especially since he intended to stay in the park with his sister and her daughter.

“It would be my pleasure,” he replied.

“You honor us.” A guileless smile appeared on her face as she slid her hand along his forearm and tucked it into the crook of his elbow.

Hoping to encounter Emmeline, he continued in the direction he had been heading with Lady Catherine in tow.

As they walked, her father quickly dropped behind, remaining within shouting distance but too far away to contribute.

The conversation flowed easily, if a bit inanely.

Catherine asked about his estate and his life before he arrived in London with wholehearted focus and more than a little enthusiasm.

He made every effort to respond in the same way, but something was missing.

When he turned the conversation to her, she clung to his arm and cooed, “I simply adore sweets.”

“And what is your favorite?” he asked dutifully.

“Lemon drops.” She giggled. “They are sweet and then they are sour. It is such a pleasant contradiction.”

“I’ve always been partial to?—”

“Your Grace. Good day,” Jane interjected, appearing out of nowhere with Belinda at her side.

In the bright sunlight, they looked more like sisters than ever.

Their gowns were nearly identical shades of green, although Jane’s had lace around the collar and on the sleeves, while Belinda’s was almost stark in its simplicity.

He stared at them for a beat too long before blinking and tipping his head in greeting.

“Lady Jane. Lady Belinda. Allow me to introduce?—”

Jane waved her hand in the air, cutting him off.

“Lady Catherine. How wonderful to see you.” With a sunny smile, she gestured at Catherine’s gown. “May I say that you look particularly fetching today. I do so admire women who can wear pale colors. I look totally washed out in pastels.” She pouted prettily. “It’s quite unfair actually.”

“Nonsense,” Catherine responded. Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes as her gaze darted between Jane and James like she was trying to determine their relationship. “You always look lovely no matter the color of your gown.”

“Aren’t you kind?” Jane’s smile engulfed her face. “We are so blessed to have encountered you this afternoon. You simply must tell me what you are wearing to the marquess’s ball tomorrow.”

Catherine suddenly dropped his arm and clasped her hands together, making a sound somewhere between a squeal and shriek, all hesitation gone. “It is yellow, and it is gorgeous.”

Jane’s eyes widened. “Yellow? Tell me more. I need details, and I need them now.”

Catherine leaped forward, threading her arm through Jane’s, and resumed walking, seemingly forgetting about James entirely. “It is an absolutely stunning gown. The embroidery alone…” Her voice trailed off as they moved farther away.

A bit stupefied at the way he’d been summarily dismissed, James turned his attention to Belinda, whose narrowed eyes were boring into her sister’s back.

“What a bunch of nonsense. Jane looks gorgeous in pink and yellow. There isn’t a color she can’t wear, and she knows it. I can’t imagine why she’d lie.”

He couldn’t help smiling at the indignation in her voice. “Perhaps Jane simply wanted someone to discuss gowns with. Lady Catherine’s enthusiasm suggests a certain affinity for fashion. Maybe Jane wants her advice.”

“Advice. Ha. Jane doesn’t want advice. She abhors ceding fashion decisions to others.” Belinda kicked a pebble and frowned. “Is Lady Catherine the leading candidate to be your duchess, then?”

He straightened. “We’ve only just met today.”

“That doesn’t mean she can’t be at the top of your list already. She is quite eligible. I believe her father has rejected half a dozen requests for her hand. It appears that she is quite picky.” She paused and then muttered, “I’ve heard it said that she’s holding out for love.”

“There is nothing wrong with seeking love,” he responded slowly, not sure what to make of Belinda’s mood.

“I did not suggest otherwise.”

“You didn’t?”

“Not directly.”

“Then why mention it at all?”

She didn’t answer his question, instead biting her lip and then abruptly informing him, “Jane also seeks love.”

What was she trying to suggest? He wished he could read her better. “Jane is a young lady searching for a husband. I would expect nothing less.”

“I suppose not,” she replied, kicking another pebble off the path. “What about you? What if you don’t find love? Will you keep looking or will you settle for…less?”

“I have no reason to settle.” He probably sounded conceited, but it was true. “There is no particular rush, so I won’t panic if I don’t find a match immediately.”

“Hmmm.” She bobbed her head but didn’t seem convinced.

The urge to ask why she seemed almost offended by the prospect of a love match nearly overwhelmed him. Never wanting to marry wasn’t the same as not wanting to be loved. “I have plenty of time,” he added when the silence became oppressive.

Her nose wrinkled as she brushed an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “Do you?”

“Whatever does that mean?”

“Shouldn’t you secure a wife before your scandal breaks?”

“What scandal?” he asked, as if he hadn’t already had a similar conversation with his mother. Why was it a forgone conclusion that people would discover the truth?

She raised both brows. “You know.”

He did, but he couldn’t help stiffening as he glanced around to be certain no one else was listening. Being overheard would be less than ideal, and thankfully no one was nearby, though several people were watching them.

“Are you suggesting you’re going to tell someone about my past?” he whispered. His words were deliberate and more than a little frosty.

She gasped. “I would never.”

“In that case, my secret will remain safe,” he stated with as much confidence as he could muster.

* * *

Belinda did not believe he could be so na?ve. Secrets never stayed secret.

“Are you serious?” she demanded, getting far more worked up than she’d intended. Why should she care if he got caught in a scandal? “Too many people know. Someone will slip up. Scandal awaits you, and it would behoove you to be prepared.”

“The only people who know the truth are my mother and your family. My mother has only told one person in thirty years, so I know that she can keep a secret. And your family?—”

“—is large. It won’t be intentional, but it’ll only take an offhanded comment—a single moment of thoughtlessness—and everyone will know.”

“I refuse to worry about something that hasn’t happened.”

“Then you are a fool,” she responded without thinking.

“A fool?” he echoed.

“No offense intended,” she added when she realized what she’d said.

“No offense. No offense? ”

Chagrined by her words and her behavior, she winced. She had promised herself when she’d decided to accompany Jane that she would keep calm and support her sister however necessary. How had she failed so spectacularly? And why couldn’t she keep her wits about her when the duke was nearby?

“You’re offended,” she stated.

“Obviously,” he responded. “You’ve decreed that I am a poor match because of a scandal that has not erupted.”

In the normal course of her life, she didn’t apologize much, but she feared she owed James another apology.

“I’m sorry. I did not mean to suggest you are a poor match,” she tried.

“I simply believe your prospects would be better if you marry sooner rather than later. A love match will likely be easier to find if the options are plentiful.”

He blinked slowly. “Why does it even matter to you? I thought you weren’t interested in marriage.”

“Just because I’m not clamoring to marry doesn’t mean I can’t have an interest in your future.”

“An interest in my future,” he repeated, a furrow appearing between his brows.

“Not an interest .” She attempted to laugh breezily. “A modicum of awareness.”

“Are you attempting to confuse me?”

“Not at all.” This time her laugh was authentic.

No one was more confused by her actions than she was.

She’d accompanied her sister to help further Jane’s acquaintance with the duke and she’d only succeeded in arguing with him.

When would she learn to keep her thoughts to herself?

And why had her sister left her and the duke alone?