“None, it seems.”
Annoying, that. “I know none of the men I sent have titles. They all hail from the working classes. But they all have enough blunt to provide well for a wife like your sister, accustomed to the finer things in life and living with no worry. And they are good men.”
“It’s not only the laboring men she avoids.”
“Avoids! She’s supposed to be finding a husband!”
“It’s the titled ones, too. Christiana’s favorite, Lord Sharpton, makes Jane run faster than a thoroughbred on a racetrack.”
George caught his mouth hanging open and snapped it closed.
Edmund groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “She swears she’ll choose from the lot, but… It’s my belief she would not marry at all if Lord Dunby had not paid a visit and told me to keep my distance from his daughter.”
“Damn, Eddie. You were going to ask for her hand, were you not?”
“We are neighbors. Our land borders theirs. It seemed a wise decision to join our households. And Dunby’s daughter is not objectionable. It’s good I waited to propose. It would have been far worse for her father to break an engagement.” He heaved a sigh. “Jane feels guilty, of course. And she heard Dunby say if she weds and the scandal goes away, he’ll welcome my suit once more. She’ll marry a man she barely knows to save my marriage prospects. Deuced uncomfortable being a damsel in distress.”
George scratched his neck. Edmund may view the situation as hopeless now, but George would fix everything. He always found a solution. “She must get to know the suitors, then. Your father should take matters into hand. I’ll speak with him.”
“My father barely notices anyone other than Christiana. He’s living a second youth with his new wife by his side. I swear he does not remember he even has children.”
George stroked his jaw, willing the muscles there to relax and the anger that hardened them to abate. “Someone should remind him.”
Edmund’s gaze fell like a telescope on George’s face, probing into every nook and cranny. The man had sharp eyes that saw too much. But then his eyebrows bounced higher on his brow, and he shrugged. “I’ve tried. Father thinks I’m being silly. ‘You’re adults,’ he says. ‘You do not need me any longer.’”
George’s hands clamped around the arms of the chair. “Lady Jane is in the middle of a crisis! She needs everyone in her corner.”
Edmund’s lips crept smile-ward, then flattened again. He grabbed a fire poker and stirred the flames. “I’m not so sure about that. Jane being in the middle of a crisis. She has five suitors to choose from, an unimaginable number for a woman caught running north alone with a man.”
“Their intentions were not—”
“No one cares what their intentions were, you know that. She’s lucky, though, that you brought her such a selection. You helped her avert a crisis. And she’s been quite happy since the party began. She says she wants to get married.” He peeked at George sideways. “I saw her trudging out toward the forest a moment ago with a rifle. Lord knows what she’s up to, but—”
George stood slowly. Lady Jane should be ensconced in a warm music room surrounded by suitors. “Your sister is headed to the woods with a rifle? And a footman.”
“No footman. Just Jane and a gun. And trees, one supposes. Where are you going?”
George strode toward the door. “To do what no one else seems to think necessary. Protect your sister.” He left the study door open behind him.
Edmund’s voice followed him down the hall with a lilting note of glee. “Thank you, George. Very obliging of you.”
Eddy was an odd bird, but George’s dearest friend. Still, he could thrash him for letting his sister trudge into the woods alone. With a gun.
The wind hit him like a freezing ocean wave as he exited the house. Damn, but it was cold. Jane had better have dressed warmly. He should go back for his great coat. But who knew what sort of trouble she’d get up to in that short amount of time? She’d always been one for mischief. He wished, now, that he’d remembered that little detail when she’d gone to London for the season, when Edmund had asked George to watch over her.
And he’d taken one look at her shining like a pearl in her finery under the glittery lights of a ballroom chandelier, felt a gut-deep discomfort at another gut-deep feeling he’d prefer not to investigate, and kept her at a distance.
If he’d kept a closer watch over her, perhaps she would not have run off with Lord Devon.
The woods closed around him, offering some protection from the wind whistling through the branches.
A shot, loud and crackling, startled him. The birds took wing.
Jane carried a rifle with her.
He sprinted toward the sound.
Another shot.
