Page 47 of A Stormy Season

“If you’ve changed your mind . . . if you wish to marry Luke Watley . . .”

“What makes you say that?”

“If you do, then you should let him know how you feel.”

“So he can tell me he wants nothing to do with me? No thank you. I will not be like those young ladies who gather around him at parties and balls and fawn over him, leaving him in no doubt that they would marry him at a moment’s notice.”

Penelope looked back at her, her normal, placid expression returning. “Perhaps pride is not your best friend in this situation.”

Jane’s breath rushed out of her, sounding like an exasperated sigh. “If I were in love with him, perhaps I would behave differently, although I don’t think so. I have never been one to throw myself at a man, Penelope. It is not my way. And I have not known Mr. Watley long enough to know if I might fall in love with him. I expect to marry a man of utmost integrity who is madly in love with me and I with him. Why should I settle for less than that? And does that make me prideful?”

Penelope’s mouth went up at the corners in a tiny smile. “I don’t believe you should settle for a man who doesn’t love you. As for pride, I do not wish to judge you, only to put you on your guard against such a thing. You know I love you as my own sister.”

“Forgive me,” Jane said rather grudgingly. “I get too passionate sometimes, and I know you are the sweetest sister I could ever have, but . . . to be honest, I was quite stung by Mr. Watley’s words about staying away from Jeffrey.” All the vinegar had left her suddenly, and she was left with only the pain of Luke’s rebuff, a heavy feeling in her chest.

Penelope placed a gentle hand on Jane’s arm and made a sympathetic sound in her throat. “I’m so sorry. It does seem a bit harsh.”

“I do understand, I suppose.” Jane sighed. “But now he has made everything awkward between us, and I must face him tomorrow night at the ball in front of so many people.” Jane placed her hands over her face and made a growly noise.

“Do not worry. You are pretending to be engaged, so pretend you are not feeling awkward.”

Penelope’s smile had grown quite big. Jane knew she and Henry would be amused by Jane’s predicament. But she deserved to be laughed at, Jane supposed, since she had been the one to suggest they pretend to be engaged.

Evil Lenoir. Why couldn’t he have kidnapped some other woman with Luke?

But that thought—imagining Luke asking another woman to marry him to save her reputation—made the heat rise up inside her, just before her stomach felt sick.

She did feel some attachment to Luke Watley. Perhaps more than she was willing to admit. It was all so demoralizing.

~ ~ ~

The housekeeper came to Jane and said, “Mr. Watley says if you’d like to make the decisions about the ball tonight—the refreshments and decorations—he’d be much obliged. But if you’d rather not . . .”

“Thank you. I don’t mind.” Jane went with the housekeeper and made the decisions, though there was little to decide. The household had managed balls before, though not very many, and Jane simply had to select the refreshments to be provided, as well as choose from a small list of decorative foods and decor to use as centerpieces for the tables.

Jane was getting a taste of what it would be like to run a household, as a wife would be expected to do. And she found she rather liked it. She was not one to doubt her own decisions, as Penelope sometimes did, and she enjoyed having the kind of control the mistress of Dunsmere House would have, free to entertain her guests as she preferred. And since Luke’s servants, especially the butler and housekeeper, were competent, there were no onerous tasks, such as correcting shoddy work, laziness, or frequent mistakes.

Of course, she was pretending to the servants, as she would be tonight at the ball to the guests, that she was in love and engaged to be married. But she had only to remember that Luke had told her to stay away from Jeffrey to remind herself that not only was she not engaged to Luke, she never would be.

The day was rather cold and started off with a light rain, but that would not deter the guests, she was sure. They were too eager to see the couple who had been kidnapped and then became engaged immediately after. No doubt they wanted to see for themselves if Luke and Jane were in love, or if they got engaged just to save their reputations.

“You have such a cynical attitude about people sometimes,” her mother had said, half scolding, a few years before.

Jane didn’t necessarily want to be cynical, but she also would rather be cynical than foolishly trusting people who didn’t deserve her trust.

Her mother had also once called her “intrepid,” and she did rather like that label. She had no intention of letting herself be intimidated by this situation—guests who were passing judgment on their engagement, and a fake fiancé who wanted her to stay away from his son.

She had to admit, she was still angry and a bit embarrassed by that. And she wasn’t sure how she would pretend to be in love with Luke.

Jane dressed very carefully, the way she imagined a woman in love would, allowing the maidservant to style her hair with a few extra curls, as well as ribbons and pearls. She wore her most feminine gown, a pale pink satin decorated with lace and flounces. It was nothing out of the common way, but Penelope had once told her that the color brought out “the perfection of your skin.”

Jane didn’t think her skin was perfect, but the color was rather becoming, if she did think so herself, in contrast to her dark brown hair and unfashionably tanned skin.

She went downstairs early to look in on the servants and the preparations for the ball. When she turned a corner, her face smacked into Luke’s chest before she could stop herself.

“Miss Gilchrist! Forgive me.” Luke held on to her upper arms as he stepped away from her.

Her own hands were pressed against his chest to steady herself. “I didn’t see you.”