Jane forced a smile onto her lips.
It was the afternoon after the Carnady party, and she had promised to visit several of the guests, teasing a few of the unmarried ladies with a tidbit about their favorite rake.
Her third stop was the Porter household. Two of the Porter daughters were in Society, the older one a pleasant enough lady with an unfortunate nose and a nervous disposition.
She knew that if Mr. Sharpe married the elder Porter daughter, he would endeavor to soothe her skittishness and make her feel less self-conscious about her appearance. She should be hoping for that outcome, since she did like Miss Porter.
Thomas was a rake, of course, she knew that; but he was also a generous man, which was likely necessary in order to become a rake in the first place.
After all, being selfish wouldn’t endear a gentleman, no matter how handsome, to a lady interested in a certain kind of intrigue.
His responsiveness when they kissed, his easing her into everything, ensuring she was comfortable before proceeding—it made her heart melt. And other parts of her body react interestingly as well.
“And Mr. Sharpe, he said specifically he has fallen in love with a particular lady?” Mrs. Porter, the daughters’ mother, scooted her chair closer to Jane’s, her expression avidly curious.
Jane nodded. “He did not realize I could hear him,” she confided. “He and my brother, Percy, are the best of friends, and tell each other everything.”
She wondered briefly if Percy had mentioned Daffy to Thomas yet.
“And he was distraught at the thought he might lose the opportunity because it seems many people believe he will be . . .” How should she put this? “. . . convivial after marriage.” She accompanied her words with a significant look.
Mrs. Porter glanced dubiously toward her elder daughter. “Do you know who it is?”
Jane shook her head. “No, he did not say.” She threw a glance toward Miss Porter, perhaps a wordless indication of who it could be.
Mrs. Porter sighed. “I know Mary finds him irresistible. I have reminded her he has no prospects, and marrying a gentleman who is so charming and handsome could lead to trouble. Especially when—” She gestured toward her elder daughter.
Jane patted Mrs. Porter’s arm. “I have become friendly with Mr. Sharpe, and I believe him to be loyal and kind.” Loyal to his family, and kind to anyone who needs his help. Such as me.
“Well,” Mrs. Porter replied, “that is good to hear. One worries about one’s daughter, especially when she is—” Again, she gestured toward her daughter, whom Jane was beginning to feel sorry for. Miss Porter wasn’t hideous to look at, and she was a good conversationalist if she wasn’t beset by anxiety. Jane had spoken at length with her a few months ago about a book they’d both enjoyed. But Mrs. Porter, a mother determined to ensure the best outcome for her children, was likely focused more on the impediments to those outcomes rather than the possibilities.
Which, to be fair, was how most people viewed challenges.
Like her, for example.
She was focused on the reality that he would not allow himself to be with her once he had found someone to rescue him. But if she focused instead on what she would learn and how much she would enjoy it while she was with him, it would be far better. A business proposition, after all.
“Your brother, Mr. Waters,” Mrs. Porter said, shaking Jane out of her thoughts. “Is he interested in anybody in particular? Such a handsome gentleman.” She sighed.
“Oh, Percy,” Jane replied, trying to figure out what to say. She couldn’t betray Percy’s confidence, especially as he hadn’t confided in her in the first place, but she also couldn’t outright lie so that a young lady might believe she had a chance with him.
She had to respond enough to placate anybody’s suspicions but not so much she raised hopes.
“Percy is very intent on his work at the moment. He is helping our father in his work for the queen.”
Mrs. Porter nodded. “Ah, yes, I see. I have not seen him at many parties lately; that is likely because he is too busy for frivolity.”
“Exactly,” Jane replied, biting back her chuckle at Percy ever being too busy for frivolity—his excursions with his fellow economists were only the most recent proof of that. Prior, he spent as many evenings with Mr. Sharpe as possible, staying in only when he was too tired from the evening before.
But at least it meant Mrs. Porter wouldn’t be actively hunting Percy down for one of her daughters.
“Well,” Jane said as she rose, “I must be on my way.” Now that she’d done her job and spread the news about Thomas’s affections—Mrs. Porter was one of the many mothers who shared news and information about all the eligible bachelors who might propose to their daughters—and Jane had no doubt the information would be common knowledge by this time tomorrow.
“Thank you for coming,” Mrs. Porter said, also rising. She took Jane’s hand and held it for a moment. “I am relieved to know you yourself are not intrigued by Mr. Sharpe. Or are not searching for a husband?” The last bit was clearly her casting her net for more information, but this time, Jane would not oblige her.
“Yes,” she replied vaguely. “Exactly.”
Mrs. Porter opened her mouth, a puzzled expression on her face, but Jane removed her hand and walked over to Miss Porter, who had been steadily sliding her chair backward into the wall.
“Good day, Miss Porter,” she said. “I am on my way, but I wanted to say hello, and ask if you would like to accompany me to the library some afternoon?”
Because what was the point of choosing her own life if she wasn’t going to do things she actually wanted to? Such as spend time with a fellow book lover who was also somewhat quiet at parties?
“That would be wonderful.” Miss Porter’s face lit up as she replied.
Jane left the Porters, satisfied she’d done what she could to further both of their agendas. Even though the completion of one would mean the cessation of another.
But meanwhile, she would focus on what she could do and learn before it all ended.
* * *
Dear Alice,
Thank you for your letter. I am so pleased to hear about your column! I didn’t realize you had writing aspirations. My friend’s sister is a novelist, although few people know that—he told me one evening when he had had a bit too much to drink. Perhaps you know the author? Percy Wittlesford?
Anyway, I find myself wishing more and more I had not taken on this duty. And then despising myself for it. I am getting help in my search for a bride from my friend’s other sister. She is spreading word of my growing attachment to a certain young lady—without ever mentioning who the lady is—and she believes that the rumors will spur the ladies and their parents to action.
But the only lady I want is her. I crave her warmth, her kindness, her passion. I want to show her what is possible between a man and a woman, and I want to explore everything with her. Not just sex, though that is an allure, but also bizarre entertainments, lively dance halls, traveling circuses, and the joy of locating a hard-to-find book in a pile of dusty tomes.
Please remind Father to walk slowly, and tell Mother she will look lovely in whatever gown she chooses for the wedding.
I send you all my love,
Thomas
Thomas sealed the letter and rose quickly to retrieve his jacket from where he’d left it the previous day. He had had to let his valet go a few months prior, and while he missed having someone take care of his clothing—removing wine stains from sleeves was not his favorite task—he enjoyed being alone.
Though he knew from past experience that if he spent any more time at home, he would likely fall into a morose mood, his mind hunting through alternatives to his plan, as though he hadn’t gone through them a thousand times already.
But he did have a reprieve, thanks to winning at Miss Ivy’s. He had forwarded most of the money to his father’s London bank, but kept some for his immediate expenses. He hadn’t had more than a few pennies in his pocket for weeks now, what with having to pay rent and purchase new linen, thanks to the spilled wine.
He felt like King Midas today, and he wanted to do something that wasn’t related at all to his heiress hunt, or think about his future.
Twenty minutes later, he was at Percy’s door.
It swung open, revealing a flushed Jane holding a bucket, her hair pinned up but disheveled, her gown clearly one not meant for company.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, glancing down in dismay at what she was wearing. “I thought you were Mrs. Charing. She ran out to do an errand, and I told her to take some time for herself.” She shrugged. “And I like helping out when I can—I like being busy and useful. Not just a helpless ornament,” she said, wrinkling her nose.
Thomas bit back a smile. Her forehead was moist. There was a spot of dirt on her cheek and one on her neck, and he had never seen anyone so delightfully kissable than her at that moment.
“Not Mrs. Charing,” he said, executing a bow. “I am here to see if you and Percy would like to go out.”
“Go out?” she repeated.
“Mmm, yes,” he replied. “Out meaning out of this house, and go is the action one would take to accomplish that.”
She poked him in the belly as she rolled her eyes. “I know what it means. I just—I hadn’t—”
“Expect the unexpected,” he said. “Another lesson for you, since we skipped a day.”
Her eyes sparkled. “Expect the unexpected? I think I like that idea,” she said, opening the door wide so he could enter.
“Percy!” she called. “We’ve got a visitor.”
Percy stepped out into the hallway from his office, his face more marked than his sister’s, but with pen, not dirt.
“I am clearly interrupting,” Thomas said, glancing from one to the other. “We can do this anoth—”
“No!” she burst out. “I mean, we could do this another time, but why not now?” She turned to look at her brother. “Percy, Mr. Sharpe just told me to ‘expect the unexpected,’ and I think not only should we do that, but we should embrace the unexpected.”
Percy shrugged. “I always expect the unexpected. It is why Thomas and I are such good friends.” He ran his fingers through his hair, creating another streak of pen, this time on his forehead. “What do you wish to do?”
Thomas returned the shrug. “Something that doesn’t require our brains, our charm, our appearance, or our money. Or much money,” he amended. Since everything cost money.
Stop thinking about that, Thomas, he reminded himself. You gave yourself one day of freedom, now take it.
Percy’s eyes gleamed. “So we’re going drinking?” he asked, his tone clearly answering the question himself. “I’ll just—”
“You’ll just go wash your face,” Jane said, giving Thomas an amused look.
“And you, too,” Thomas said, stepping forward to touch the spot on her cheek.
“Oh drat!” she said, dashing up the stairs.
Percy walked more slowly after her, turning halfway up. “We’ll be down in ten minutes.” He indicated the sitting room where he and Thomas had spent many a late night. “Go in and grab yourself some whisky or something while you wait.”
Thomas grinned at his friend. This was going to be a wonderful day.