“Is that why you went up after it? Jane!” She huffed. “I do not wish to trick anyone into kissing me.”
Hells, she’d not meant to imply that. She’d only been trying to help. “You should never have to trick anyone into showing you affection. I thought it a good idea. A bit of fun. I see I was wrong. We’ll forget the mistletoe, then.” Not that she knew where it was. After the fall, she’d quite lost track of it.
Katherine patted Lillian’s hand. “You’ll survive love.” She turned to Jane. “’Tis good you’ve decided against Lord Sharpton.”
Lillian’s nose scrunched up. “I think your stepmother holds atendrefor him.”
“I'd wondered that as well,” Jane whispered.
They looked at Christiana and Lord Sharpton, sitting close to one another across the room. Christiana’s hand tangled in his hair.
Jane wanted to slap that hand away. Then she wanted to slap Lord Sharpton's smug face. How could her father stand by and watch her stepmother share such intimacy with that man? And how could that man allow it, then turn his attentions to Jane? Absurd. And hurtful to a variety of people. She glanced at her father. He seemed deep in conversation with Edmund. At least he did not notice this evening.
Her father and mother had loved one another completely. And now his life had come to this. Jane’s heart ached for him, and the ache felt like a steel cage, trapping her heart tight. No. It was more like an iron maiden, one of those medieval torture devices that encased the body in steel spikes. Steel walls protected her heart from outside harm, but each time it beat, it bled.
She would not end up as her father had. Not ever.
Jane scratched at her collarbone and winced. Bruised. “Not Lord Devon, not Lord Sharpton. One of the three men George sent.”
“But you’ve seemed horribly uninterested in them,” Katherine said. “You should not marry a man you do not love. Or that you could not one day love.”
“I’m a ruined woman. I’m not allowed love.” Nor did she want it.
Lillian pursed her lips but did not argue.
Katherine pressed fingertips into her temples and closed her eyes. “Then do not marry, Jane. There is no need to. Your father and Chrissy, nor Edmund and I, would wish to part with you for anything less than happiness. You do not have to marry. You may stay with your family until the day you do find a man who sets your heart fluttering.”
“If I do not marry, Edmund cannot marry. He had his sights set on Lord Dunby’s daughter, but he’s not even allowed to call on her now.” She shook her head. “And… I cannot stay here. I can’t.” Jane crushed her skirts in her fists, then smoothed them out again and again. “I do not want love, but I do want children. And…” She dropped her eyes to her feet, impatiently tapping on the soft rug. “I cannot live with your sister. And my father.” And the farce of a marriage they had entered into.
Katherine’s cheeks hollowed out, and her eyelids fluttered down, shuttering her expression, but not before Jane saw a spark of irritation. “My sister is an acquired taste. I do understand that. But she has a heart like the two of you. And a certain courage I admire. She has worked hard to be a good mother, despite being so close in age to you and Edmund.” Her tone sounded like stone, marble, immovable and hard.
Jane swallowed a disagreement. Katherine was more maternal than Christiana. And Jane did not want mothering from that woman.
“She threw out my trousers,” Jane said. “And then she chose all my gowns for my season. And then she insisted we hold this house party to find a husband. And then she provided her own suitor, a man who appears to have been, or perhaps currently is, her lover. And then she simply disappeared once the suitors arrived, leaving every detail of the party for me to attend to. I have very little knowledge of my suitors because I have not had time to become acquainted with them. If cook or Mrs. Bradley has a question, it comes to me. If a problem arises, I solve it. If I’m to be mistress of a home, I wish it to be my own.”
A place where she could be herself, where she would not have to confront the shattered remains of her father every morning and the woman eternally cutting his heart open again with its broken pieces. She wanted to wake up where she did not have to confront the failures of love every day.
“Katherine,” Jane said, “I know you love Christiana, but I cannot remain here under her mercurial rule.”
Katherine no longer looked at Jane. Her gaze had settled on her sister across the room, fingers still stroking through Lord Sharpton’s hair. “Send the questions and problems my way. I’ll take care of them.” She turned back to Jane. “You spend time with our guests, discover who you can… respect if not love. No, discover the man who can respect you.”
“I intend to. It’s the imminently practical route, and I intend to be nothing but practical now. No more stupid decisions and daring acts.”
Katherine tilted her head to the side and scratched her chin. “Like traveling up the North Road with a single gentleman?”
Jane nodded, grim. She’d meant what she said to Lord Devon. She did not entirely regret her actions, stemming from love of a friend as they did, but perhaps she could have found a less risky way to accomplish her goal. Just as with the mistletoe. She should have asked for help, taken the dangers of action seriously before following the impulses of her heart.
“Like climbing a tree to retrieve mistletoe on your own?” Lillian asked.
Mind reader, Lillian was.
Lillian frowned. “Pity. Your daring nature is one of the reasons I love you.”
“Daring is what got me into this mess. It’s what got George hurt. From now on, I won't be daring at all.” She’d be exquisitely careful.
Lillian lifted a brow. “Does that mean no moredares?”
“Most definitely no more dares.”
