ChapterOne
Desperate Times
“Jane, under absolutely no circumstances can you do this. You are not in your right mind!” Lady Charlotte Pembleton, the Viscountess Cotswalts, cried as she pursued her daughter up the stairs.
Jane Pembleton had had enough. She was tired of being overlooked and unappreciated. Tired of playing all the courtly games of the ton. Tired of people comparing her to her older and younger sister.
So, she had done what any reasonable woman would do—she had come up with a plan. A very good plan, if she said so herself. Though clearly, her mother did not agree.
She quickened her steps to her father’s study. “You are mistaken, Mother. I am of a perfectly sound mind. I have never been more sure of my convictions.”
“But Jane, this is utterly ridiculous. You cannot—” Lady Cotswalts began, but Jane interrupted her.
“I can, and I will do this. It is the most logical conclusion.” Jane faced her mother, her eyes full of steely resolve. “This will be my fourth Season. Myfourth! And I am utterly surfeited with hoping some man will fall madly in love with me. If it was going to happen, it would have happened by now.”
As she said the words, Jane felt something in her chest twist, but she ignored it and continued. “You have made two sublime matches and a handful of others of lesser note. Yet?—”
“I just need more time. There has been no one right for you?—”
“Nor will there ever be. And I do not feel like remaining a spinster for the rest of my days.” Jane shook her head as she drew level with her father’s study. “No, this is the only way. After all, I am ‘unmarriable’.”
“Who said that?” Lady Cotswalts narrowed her eyes. “You are not unmarriable.”
“I am, Mother.” Jane swallowed as her eyes met her mother’s. “I know that you had great success with my darling sister Rose, and my dear friend Olivia, but I am neither of them. I have no wish to spend another Season reminded of my inadequacies.”
“Oh Jane.” Lady Cotswalts’ eyes were full of deep sadness. “That is not true. We just need a little more time to find the right man for you. It is not you who is in want of anything, but the men of the ton!”
“It is true, Mother. My entire first Season, when I was not with Olivia, do you know how often I was told that I talked more than I should? That I was entirely too excitable and simply toomuch?” Jane shook her head, forcing herself not to remember all of the times men had said that to her.
“Few people find perfection in their first Season—you were still finding your feet.”
“That is what I thought. So, the next Season, I tried to learn from my previous failures. I tempered my enthusiasm, tempered my opinions, talked less and listened more, and yet still, no match was forthcoming.” Jane sighed. “Every year, I tried to be who they want me to be, and every year, I failed.”
“Then perhaps you should just be yourself,” Lady Cotswalts murmured softly.
Jane laughed bitterly. “Mother, you have spent all my life reminding me that when it comes to the ton, we must all don a mask. Besides, when I have been myself, it has not been well received by anyone.”
Her mother shook her head. “Then you have not found the right person.”
“And I do not think I ever will. Mother, the fact remains that the ton has weighed me and they have found me wanting. Nothing I do will change this fact.” Jane felt a sharp tug in her chest, but she pushed the feeling down.
Plenty of people are happy without passion or love. And perhaps a marriage like this will give me time to pursue my hobbies, unbothered by wifely duties.
“There is still a chance of a love match. You do not know what the future holds, unless you have taken up divination as one of your hobbies,” Lady Cotswalts pointed out.
“Nor do you,” Jane retorted. “You are known as the matchmaker of the ton, and while you have earned that reputation, I am known as your ‘unmarriable’ daughter. I do not think even your careful ministrations could fix this.”
“There is still hope. You are young—very young—and the world is full of men. I refuse to believe that in the entirety of the ton, there is no gentleman who will appreciate all that you are.”
“And what is that exactly?”
“A vibrant, stunning young woman. You are a deeply loyal, kind, and interesting person—any man would be lucky to love you and, more importantly, be loved by you.” Lady Cotswalts took Jane’s hands in her own, her eyes full of tenderness. “All you need to do is have faith. I am sure we will find you the man of your dreams. You just need to be patient.”
Jane opened her mouth to reply but couldn’t find the words.
How can I tell her that I do not think such a man exists and that if he does exist, I doubt he would ever be interested in someone like me?
Instead, she shook her head sadly, freed her hand from her mother’s grasp, and pushed open the door to her father’s study.
