Page 63 of Regency Whispers: Scandalous Matches

Once inside her room, she collapsed into bed, unable to believe Tom had spent the best part of the night in her bedroom and they had got away with not being caught.

She had barely pulled the bed covers up to her chin when one of the maids bustled in, ready to set her fire for the morning. Jane wasn’t quick enough to close her eyes and pretend to be asleep, but the maid seemed happy enough to chatter as she worked, holding both sides of the conversation, except for the occasional murmur of agreement from Jane.

‘Will you stay in bed a little longer, Miss Ashworth?’ Dorothy asked as she finished with the fire. ‘Shall I bring up your morning tea?’

‘That would be lovely.’

Dorothy darted round the room for another minute, tidying anything out of place. As she reached the chair by the window, the one on which Tom had spent an uncomfortable night, she paused. Jane’s eyes darted to where she was standing, taking in the silky fabric of Tom’s cravat hanging over the back of the chair.

‘Do you like it?’ she said, forcing her voice to remain calm and nonchalant.

Dorothy’s eyes darted to hers. ‘It’s a cravat, miss.’

‘I know. One of Captain Weyman’s. He hates the colour, so Lucy has given it to me to cut up and make ribbons.’

She couldn’t tell if the maid believed her, but at least it was a passably plausible story, something hopefully the maid would file away and not think about further. Jane did her best not to stare at the young woman, knowing acting out of the ordinary would make the implausible story even less believable.

‘It is a lovely colour, miss. It will make beautiful ribbons.’

It was all Jane could do not to let out a huge sigh of relief. Instead, she leaned back on her pillows and closed her eyes. Perhaps today would be a little less stressful.

Chapter Nineteen

The snow was beginning to melt, turning into a dirty grey sludge underneath her feet, and Jane was glad of the thick-soled boots she’d brought from the country for occasions such as this. They were not the most elegant boots ever but it hardly mattered with them hidden under her dress with only the toes visible if she took a particularly big step.

‘Where are we going?’ She pulled her cloak a little tighter around her ears, shivering at the cold whip of the wind. It made her clench her jaw and sent an ache all the way from her ears to her chin.

‘I don’t know,’ Lucy said, giving her friend’s arm a squeeze as they walked along side by side. ‘I had my instructions to bring you here for two o’clock, so that is what I am doing.’

It was all very mysterious. Jane had spent the morning restless and unable to settle, flitting from trying to read a book to taking out her watercolours, but not able to paint anything, to aimlessly staring out of the window. She’d felt as if she was waiting for something to happen although she wasn’t quite sure what.

‘I haven’t heard any whispers,’ Lucy said, lowering her voice. ‘Although I will admit I haven’t been out much in the last few days. I didn’t want to be anywhere someone could stop me and question me if Mrs Burghley had spilled her secret.’

‘You are too good, Lucy,’ Jane said, leaning in to her friend. ‘Perhaps she won’t tell anyone. The waiting, the not knowing, is so hard. I wish I could hunt her down and just ask her. It is awful, waking up each day and not knowing whether your whole world will come crashing down.’

‘It must be. I do not envy you that, Jane.’ She shook her head as they waited for a carriage to trundle past before crossing the road. ‘Have you seen Mr Stewart since that evening?’

Closing her eyes for a moment, Jane thought of waking up this morning with Mr Stewart gently shaking her arm. For an instant she had allowed herself to believe that that was their life, and she had awoken with a contented feeling before the panic of reality had crashed back down on her.

‘Yes. We took Edward sledging yesterday.’

‘Did he...?’ Lucy trailed off, looking as if she didn’t know how to phrase the question without causing upset.

‘He proposed.’ Jane scoffed and corrected herself. ‘No, that’s a lie. He didn’t propose. He said if things went badly, of course he would marry me.’

‘Did you want him to propose? Properly, I mean?’

Jane couldn’t bring herself to look at Lucy, knowing her friend’s expression would be one of complete concern and affection. She felt the prick of tears in her eyes and tried to suppress the wave of emotion that threatened to overwhelm her.

Taking in a deep, shuddering breath, she nodded, feeling relief as she finally admitted it.

‘Yes,’ she said quietly. ‘More than anything else, and that scares me so much.’

‘Why does it scare you?’

‘I hate how easily I have given up my promises to myself.’

‘To focus on your work?’