It was remarkable, really. Jane watched Lord Needles approach, taking in his appearance more closely. His hair was actually a shade lighter than Lucas’s, with gray at the temples. He was perhaps a touch taller than Lucas, that extra bit contributing to his leaner frame. And his gait was more controlled—purposeful. Yes, more purposeful than Lucas’s often easy stride.
There was nothing wrong with purpose, Jane reminded herself, forcing a smile for the oncoming trio. If she could not have Lucas, perhaps Lord Needles would make for a suitable alternative.
She spied at Lucas from the corner of her eye. If she could not have Lucas. There was no question. No “if” about it. She’d asked for his help in securing Lord Needles and he’d agreed. If ever he were going to realize he could love her—should love her—it was then.
Blast that word, “if.” Two letters, without which there was no hope. Jane stifled a sigh and forced her gaze away from Lucas to fasten on her mother and the duo as they drew near.
Lady Merriweather led the pack, subtly gesturing for Jane to stand up straight and smile as she came reached them and halted.
“My dear Jane, there is someone I would like you to meet,” her mother began.
Jane attempted to look surprised and hoped her eyes held friendly interest. “How lovely, Mother.”
As the highest-ranking individual amongst them, the dowager bore the honor of making the introductions.
Both Jane and her mother turned to the portly woman. Jane thought they must have positively radiated expectancy since Lady Pearson appeared distinctively startled by the attention.
“Oh,” she exclaimed, her thin lips pursing with confusion. She looked bemused before comprehension dawned. “Yes, well, Lord Cavanaugh, may I introduce my nephew, Lord Needles.”
Jane watched as the two men bowed in unison, Lord Needles’s striking resemblance to Lucas continuing to astonish her.
“And Miss Jane Merriweather, nephew,” the cheery dowager finished, smiling kindly at Jane. “Lady Merriweather’s daughter, though I suppose you’d already deduced such.”
Jane dipped into a graceful curtsy and rose, offering her hand to the man.
“He’s a very clever man, my nephew,” the dowager added, pride filling her voice.
Lord Needles took Jane’s hand in his, his large fingers grasping hers ever so gently as he kissed her knuckles.
“Oh, but I’m sure he is,” Jane said, watching Lord Needles as he released her hand and straightened. “An arborist, is that correct, Lord Needles?”
Jane’s mother speared her with a nervous look.
“I meant botany. That is, you’re a botanist,” Jane recovered, smiling brightly at Lord Needles. “Plants, not trees.”
Her mother’s lips twisted with exasperation.
Lord Needles laughed, his low chuckle making Jane grin.
“It is a true pleasure to meet you, Miss Merriweather. And yes, I study plants, not trees, though I like trees well enough. What about you?”
Jane thought for a moment before answering. “Do you know, I believe I like both equally. Not knowing all that much about either outside of their beauty, both supply ample opportunity for reflection. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Lord Needles considered her answer—as did the rest of their party. Learning whether the man was marriageable would be impossible as long as they entertained an invested crowd.
“You’re quite clever, Miss Merriweather. And correct,” Lord Needles replied, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.
“It is true enough, Lord Needles,” Jane’s mother offered. “Her tutors all claimed she was by far the brightest pupil they’d ever had the good fortune to teach.”
Lady Merriweather gestured at Jane, much as Farmer Doyle had done with his prized pig at last year’s Autumn Fair.
“And thirsty,” Jane blurted out, belatedly smiling in apology. “That is to say, Lord Needles, would you be so kind as to accompany me to the refreshments?”
Jane’s mother didn’t bother with subtlety. Instead, she grasped her daughter’s wrist and held on. “Jane, dear, we’ve only just met Lord Needles. Do you mean to drag him away already?”
Jane loved her mother. Even adored her at times. But the woman had very little confidence in Jane’s ability to attract and retain a suitor. Rightly so, some would say. But still, it grated on Jane’s nerves.
As did Lucas’s silence. He had yet to say a word to recommend Jane—in a subtle yet effective way, of course. He was rather good at that type of thing, and she was relying on him, as unfortunately it was a skill Lady Merriweather would never perfect. Jane supposed the short span of time between now and when they’d made Lord Needle’s acquaintance—a mere two minutes ago—should be considered.
Even allowing for that, Lucas’s presence was irksome. Irritating. Distracting. Jane most desperately needed to focus on her future, not the past.
“Yes, Mother, I do,” Jane answered, arching one brow at Lord Needles and inviting him to follow. “Only for a little while. I’ll return him shortly.”
He bowed to the ladies and offered Jane his arm. “To the punch, Miss Merriweather.”
Jane looped her arm through his and set off at a determined pace. Next to her, Lord Needle’s frame felt comforting, reliable, welcome.
“I admire a woman who doesn’t dawdle,” he commented, smiling down at Jane.
She purposely slowed, embarrassed by her impatience. “I apologize, Lord Needles.”
“I wasn’t being facetious, Miss Merriweather,” he replied earnestly, releasing her arm as they stopped in front of the table. “You have a mind and you use it rather than hiding it away. That is to be commended.”
He procured two glasses of punch then looked about the lively room. “Where shall we sit?”
“Did you mean what you just said, Lord Needles? About a woman having a mind and using it?” Jane asked, searching his face for any evidence of dishonesty.
“Perhaps the most important thing to know about me, Miss Merriweather, is that I always mean what I say. Otherwise, what is the point in saying anything at all?”
Jane stared at him, waiting for a subtle curve to lift his upper lip or a tick to begin in his left eye. Nothing. The man appeared to be telling the truth.
“Very well, then,” she said, continuing to watch him. “I believe we’ve need of a touch more privacy. Come, let us retire to the settee near the pianoforte.”
Jane didn’t wait for the man to respond, but instead headed for the corner, dodging her mother’s frustrated glare and Lady Pearson’s encouraging smile along the way.
She rounded the pianoforte and took a seat on the end of the settee, smoothing her skirts hastily as Lord Needles sat down.
“Were you in fact thirsty? Or did I carry the punch all this way for nothing?” he asked with amused politeness, offering her one of the glasses.
Jane accepted the offered cup and smiled conspiratorially. “Actually, I was. Quite thirsty, indeed.” She sipped her punch delicately.
“As am I,” Lord Needles replied, taking a drink from his glass. “Inquests will do that to a person.”
Jane choked on the fruity drink but managed to swallow the punch before spraying it all over the front of the man. “Yes, I suppose they do.”
She watched Lord Needles empty his glass and waited for a passing footman to take it before she spoke again. “We’re being completely frank, then?”
He settled back into the settee and crossed his ankles. “Completely,” he assured her, sincerity in his voice, honesty in his eyes.
“In that case, tell me, Lord Needles, why are you in want of a wife?”
He laughed out loud, filling the space between them with a deep, musical burst of joy. “Miss Merriweather, you are delightful.”
Jane smiled widely, truly appreciative of the compliment. “And you haven’t answered my question.”
He rested one arm across the back of the settee and tapped his fingers against the blue and white silk covered cushions. “No, I haven’t,” he answered, then cleared his throat. “You no doubt are aware that I am a widower. It has been five years since my wife passed away, during which time I’ve busied myself with travel and my passion for botany. But I desire a family—and companionship. And my estate requires my attention.”
“And what of the women I feel sure have hunted you to ground in London?” Jane asked, pausing to sip her punch. “None of them were able to offer you such things?”
Lord Needles captured her attention with a somber stare. “In a manner of speaking. You see, I cannot abide a silly woman. My wife was one of the most intelligent individuals.…” He paused, offering Jane a small, sad smile. “I must apologize. My aunt assured me eligible young women would wish to know as little about my wife as possible.”
“You loved her very much, didn’t you?” Jane asked softly, sorry for the obvious pain her question had caused him.
He reached out and rested his fingers on her shoulder. “I did. Does that make me weak?”
“Quite the opposite, in my opinion,” Jane assured him, reaching up to lay her hand over his, if only for a moment. “Love—real love—is only for the strong. Honestly, I don’t know that it’s for me … at least not now. Not in my position.”
She removed her hand and rested it in her lap, almost shocked by her statement.
“And what position do you speak of, Miss Merriweather?” Lord Needles asked, resuming the rhythmic tapping of his fingers against the settee.
Jane suddenly felt shy. Or embarrassed. Or both. It was one thing to know your circumstances. And quite another to put it into words.
She folded her hands together, twining the fingers tightly one about the other. “Well, it’s rather simple. You see, my father, a dear and well-meaning man, is hopeless when it comes to managing our estate. There is no more money to be squandered, which puts us in a rather difficult position. And so I must marry a man with both the funds and the inclination to ride to my rescue, as it were.”
“Quite a responsibility for a young woman,” Lord Needles answered gently.
Jane raised her head, wanting nothing more than to agree with him, but fearing doing so would be far too indulgent.
“Yes, well, we all suffer our own unique challenges, don’t we, Lord Needles?”
“That we do,” he replied, understanding in his eyes.