Home > A Proper Lord's Wife (Properly Spanked Legacy #2)(6)

A Proper Lord's Wife (Properly Spanked Legacy #2)(6)
Author: Annabel Joseph

“Pish posh. You’re a fine marriage prospect. It may be this Lord Townsend has admired you from afar, and learned you were recently…unengaged to that awful scoundrel.”

Lord Hobart, the other name that was not to be mentioned in the Mayhew household. Jane sighed, trying to imagine Lord Townsend “admiring her from afar.” It was impossible. He was too handsome and lofty, too untouchable. She could not feel excited because she worried none of it was true. How could she even speak to a man so dashing and worldly? Much less marry him?

“I can’t believe he would ‘passionately’ offer for me,” she persisted. “Why?”

“The why doesn’t matter. Good families seek out other good families. Perhaps it’s because his rapscallion friend has married, so Lord Townsend wishes to as well. Let’s take it for what it is, a blessing.” Her mother said blessing as if she meant miracle.

It was a sort of miracle, and that frightened her. What if Lord Townsend met her, merely looked upon her, and broke the engagement—her second? At that point she’d have no choice but to move to some haunted, windblown cliff and never show her face in society again. She could not believe such a fine, wealthy man—a duke’s son—would stoop to beg for her hand in marriage.

“What if it doesn’t happen?” she asked her mother. “What if he meets with me and changes his mind?”

“Oh, Jane,” she replied in a tone that was mostly a scold. “Go to your room and pick out some lovely, unstained gowns to take to London. Colors, not drab brown. And leave your animals here with Davis. Don’t dare try to smuggle some fawn or lizard in your trunks.”

*

Jane stared in the mirror as her lady’s maid smoothed her hair into an ornate twist atop her head. Where her sister’s hair shone with depths of gold, her own color was flat and orange. Where June’s hair sprang naturally into pretty curls, hers flopped with shagged edges. It was hopeless.

“You must smile,” Matilda chided, persisting with the curling tongs. “If you smile, you will look beautiful to him.”

She tried to smile at her reflection, but nerves twisted her lips into a grimace that was worse than a frown. Her amber-gold eyes, just as strangely colored as her hair, did nothing to soften her expression or make her appear “prettier.” The truth was she’d been tired and worried for days, for the entire journey to London to meet her new fiancé.

She took a deep breath, her rib cage straining against the stays pulled especially tight for this meeting. When her hair was finally curled and smoothed to perfection, Matilda helped her put on her most stylish gown, a delicate blue toile print with a satin sash and ruffled hemline. It was something she’d never wear in the garden, so there was no fear of mud stains or tears along the bottom. No, she couldn’t meet him that way.

Jane would not feel like herself in such an elegant gown, but it would be better to not be herself around Lord Townsend. She caused controversy with her behavior at times. Did he know it? The letter from the Cambridge scientist to Josiah McConall had arrived at her father’s desk and caused a row only yesterday. He’d not allowed her to read the professor’s reply until he’d scolded her soundly, shouting that Lord Townsend would not wish to wed a bluestocking, an overly intellectual woman. Why was that a bad thing?

Oh, she must stop thinking that way. She supposed, now, she must discover what Lord Townsend preferred in a wife, and act in that way so he would find her agreeable to marry. It was too much to wish that he would like her as she was, prone to rescuing wild animals and mucking about in gardens and woodlands, not only for science, but because she found them magical. She wouldn’t mention any of that until they were married. And then…

And then she probably still better not mention it. Too much to hope a lofty Duke’s son would understand.

Her maid clucked about her, adjusting the gown, handling it carefully to prevent wrinkles. It was light and flowing, empire-waisted in the current style. Once Matilda tied the sash and fastened the tiny pearl buttons at the back, Jane looked at least fifty percent a fine lady. She tried another smile and failed.

“Will you wear the pearls, my lady, or the locket?” asked Matilda.

“What goes better with the gown?”

“The pearls, I think.”

A string of luminescent pearls was fastened about her neck, along with matching earrings that pinched her lobes. She took in the full effect. Well, she looked far better than she looked on a normal day, even if she wasn’t as naturally stunning as June. June was married off, so she wouldn’t be in the parlor beside Jane making her look so plain in comparison. Marriage suited her sister; June was quite happy, simpering on about Lord Braxton whenever she wrote.

Maybe Jane would have some of that luck too. Maybe Lord Townsend would be such a grand and devoted husband that she herself would be improved. Perhaps their marriage would make her more normal and accepted in company. This thought, finally, brought a smile to her face, a hopeful smile that did much to make her more appealing.

“There you are,” said Matilda. “He will like you, my lady. You mustn’t fret.”

It was difficult not to fret when you were about to be introduced to the stranger you were to wed, even if he was a handsome gentleman you’d admired from afar. Especially when he was a handsome gentleman you’d admired from afar.

“I suppose I’ll go down then,” she said.

“Yes, my lady. Mrs. Barton is preparing a lovely tea for the visit.”

When Jane entered the parlor, she found her mother and father in their formal clothes, awaiting Lord Townsend. His parents were expected as well, along with his remaining unmarried sister, Lady Rosalind.

“How fetching you look,” said her father.

The words were complimentary, but the look he gave her told her she was to behave with fetching manners too, or lose his approval entirely. She went to the window overlooking the courtyard and square.

“You mustn’t gape out of doors,” her mother said. “Come sit down and be ladylike.”

“I’m too nervous to sit down and be ladylike.”

“Yet you must.”

“I would like to see them arrive.”

She had an unreasonable fear that the Lord Townsend she remembered was not the one who had proposed marriage to her. In fact, the past few days, the trip to London, even preparing for this meeting carried an air of unreality. How could it be?

Then a fine, gilded carriage with the Duke of Lockridge’s crest upon the side turned into the front drive, and she jerked back from the window, knowing there was no mistake.

“They are here,” she said.

It was a task to sit and compose herself, knowing her future husband was about to walk into the family’s opulent parlor. Indeed, her father’s house was one of the loveliest in town, spacious and sprawling, done up in a timeless, elegant fashion. There was no worry the Lockridge contingent, or Lord Townsend, might find the Mayhew family wanting.

No, it was only her he might find wanting.

Jane curled her toes in her pale blue slippers and straightened her spine, and tried to relax her expression so she might be able to smile—delicately, of course—when their guests were announced at the door. But when they were finally announced, minutes later, her whole face seemed to go numb.

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