A Proper Lord's Wife (Properly Spanked Legacy Book 2) Read online

  It had to be some mean-spirited joke.

  “Why would Lord Townsend propose to me?” she asked. “Do you think father is telling the truth?”

  “I don’t imagine he’d go to the trouble of ordering us to London if he wasn’t. My dear…” She took back the letter she’d been clutching. “Your father writes that Lord Townsend offered with great passion for your hand.”

  “But mama… It must be a mistake. I’ve never spoken to Lord Townsend, not once. We’ve never been introduced.”

  “Mistake or not, the contract is signed, unless you’re foolish enough to refuse him. The Duke of Lockridge’s oldest son, dear girl!” She softened her voice and lifted her daughter’s face with a finger beneath her chin. “What, not even a smile? This is joyous news.”

  “What if it isn’t true, though?” Her stomach wrenched with fear of mockery. “What if it’s a prank? Some sort of nonsense?”

  “Nonsense? Why would you think so? Remember how quickly all the gentlemen came calling for June when she became available for marriage?”

  “I’m not June, mother. I’m not as pretty or vivacious, or light on my feet.”

  “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.

  The Duke and Duchess of Lockridge entered first. Townsend’s father was tall and dark-haired like him, and his mother voluptuously beautiful in an emerald green visiting frock with pearl buttons and lace.

  Why had Jane worn toile? Why couldn’t she have shining honey-colored hair like Lord Townsend’s mother rather than the orange straw she’d been cursed with?

  Lord Townsend entered behind them, along with his sister. She could sense him there, could sense his great height and presence, but could not summon the courage to look at him yet. First she went with her parents to greet his parents. The duchess reached out and took Jane’s hands, with a smile so warm and sincere that Jane’s face unfroze enough to return it.

  “This must be the young lady my son has told us about,” she said to Jane’s parents. “How wonderful it is to meet you, Lady Jane. Look at your beautiful frock. Toile is my favorite, and the blue perfectly suits the shade of your hair.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace.” The knot in Jane’s stomach eased at the woman’s kind words. She offered her hand to the duke, then greeted Lady Rosalind. After that, there was nothing to do but turn to Lord Townsend as his father introduced them.

  She watched this stranger—her fiancé—as he acknowledged her parents first. Yes, he was the same dauntingly handsome man she’d seen at the balls last season, the ones he’d deigned to attend, at any rate. Up close, he was even more striking. His hair was glossy black and full, his lips well-formed, and his nose straight and aristocratic. His eyes were large and wide set, framed by strong brows and dark lashes. When he turned them on her, she felt caught beneath a spell. And their color…

  My goodness. Lord Townsend’s eyes were the same color she saw each time she looked in the mirror. Jane had always been at a loss to describe the exact color of her eyes. They were mostly brown, but slightly gold and amber as well, a strange, in-between color she’d never seen on anyone else.

  Until now.

  She realized she’d been staring and offered her hand. His fingers seemed huge. Even with their gloves between them, his grip felt strong and affecting, and she felt a twinge of excitement to be touching him at last.

  But she was not smiling. Goodness, she’d forgotten to smile. She tried to force a quick smile and it came out crooked, and those eyes so like her own regarded her with a veiled scrutiny that made her want to run away and hide. He barely smiled either. He had a reserved manner at odds with the easiness of his parents.

  “Won’t you sit and join us for tea?” Her mother turned about, directing the guests to various chairs, making sure to seat Lord Townsend in the armchair adjacent to Jane’s. “It’s so pleasant to have visitors in the winter, when it’s so quiet in town.”

  “Indeed, most of our friends have left for their country homes.”

  While the parents spoke of niceties, and Mrs. Barton and her parlor maids distributed tea and cakes, Jane was hotly aware of Lord Townsend sitting mere feet from her. He bore little resemblance to his sister, Rosalind. She looked more like her mother, her hair a shining golden brown, while Townsend clearly took after his father. Jane remembered, though, that Lord Townsend had an older sister who was as striking and dark as he, who had married an Italian prince. It had been the talk of society when it happened. Jane had been young then, perhaps seven or eight years old, beguiled by fantasies of becoming a princess.

  “Felicity is well,” answered the duchess, to some question of her mother’s. “She and her husband are planning a trip to London in the spring, in fact, with our grandchildren. We’ve been brushing up on our Italian.”

  Yes, Lady Felicity. That was his oldest sister’s name. She must be Princess Felicity now, and of course Jane’s parents would inquire after her right away, excited to have a connection, however tenuous, to Italian royalty. Lord Townsend himself might be an Italian prince, in his finely tailored coat and shining riding boots. She imagined he must ride very well. He seemed the sort to do everything very well.

  She did nothing well, except for things young ladies weren’t supposed to be interested in. She slid a look at him, wondering if he regretted his proposal now that he was sitting so near her. He followed the parents’ conversation politely, contributing when required. His voice was very deep, rumbling and masculine, rich with personality. As for Jane, she could not seem to summon a word. She could only think, why? Why are you here? Why do you wish to marry me?

  Soon, talk turned to their new engagement and impending wedding.

  “How pleased I was to receive your son’s petition for marriage,” said her father. “So many young men these days aren’t of a mind to wed and settle down into family life.”

  “Indeed.” The Duke of Lockridge smiled at his duchess. “I remember how unhappy I was when this one dragged me before the parson.”

  The duchess returned his smile and blushed in a way so girlish Jane could only stare. Her mother and father never teased one another, especially in front of company. That was what they were doing, teasing, like a pair of courting birds. Lord Townsend caught her eye with a faintly embarrassed half-smile.

  She did not know how to respond, whether she ought to smile back or shyly glance away. She’d had little experience with marriageable gentlemen, especially the dashing, mysterious type that made up Lord Townsend’s circle of friends. Some said they were the scandalous sort, but Jane imagined it was unfair gossip. June’s association with Lord Wescott hadn’t had a whisper of scandal associated with it. Well, until he jilted her to marry an operatic singer.

  “We’re pleased about this engagement as well,” the duke continued over his wife’s blushes. “How exciting, for our two families to unite behind an excellent match.”

  They shared lemon cake, cream fingers, and wedding plans, although Jane felt too shy to eat, drink, or say a single word unless prompted for an opinion. What day? Any day. Which church? Any church with an altar and parson would do. She could not bring herself to plan too excitedly. What if Lord Townsend changed his mind about a wedding before this polite tea was over? She would have liked to converse with Rosalind, who did not seem so threatening, but she wasn’t sitting here in her special toile dress to spend time with Rosalind…

  “Jane, dear.” Her mother’s voice interrupted her jittery, anxious thoughts. Jane glanced at Lord Townsend. Had she offended him because she was too hapless to address any conversation to him? “The sun is out today,” her mother went on, “and the conversation of elders can be tiresome. Why don’t you show Lord Townsend around the courtyard gardens?”

  “What a lovely idea,” said the duchess. “I’m sure the young people would enjoy some fresh air.”

  “Go fetch your cloaks,” her mother pressed, as Jane’s heart beat faster. “And a bonnet, Jane. You’ll need it for the sun.”

  “I’d love to see your gardens, too,” said Townsend’s sister, putting down her plate and rising to her feet.

  “Rosalind, why don’t you stay?” The duchess’s tone was kind but firm.

  Lord Townsend’s sister resumed her seat, polite enough to almost hide her disappointment. Jane, on the other hand, rose with some reluctance. A walk in the gardens brought to mind every soiled hem, every scolding she’d received for mucking about in the dirt.

  Lord Townsend indicated that she should proceed before him, and she did, feeling the weight of five pairs of eyes as they left the parlor. Why could she not do anything easily, with grace? Why do you wish to marry me? she thought. How could I possibly become your wife?

  They were being sent out into the gardens because they were engaged to wed and must get to know one another. As much as s
he wanted to get married, as much as she admired the intriguing Lord Townsend, she had not pictured courtship being as nerve-wracking as this.

  Chapter Three

  A Walk in the Gardens

  Townsend accepted his overcoat and hat from the butler, then waited as his future bride donned a pale blue pelisse and bonnet. Lady Jane. She looked exactly like her name, prim and unobjectionable. Not ugly, not at all, but no raving beauty either.

  Plain Jane.

  The unkind moniker came to mind, but he stifled it. She was not plain. Her hair was an odd color, yes, a very pale orange that could not pass for blonde, but her face held a quiet animation even when she was silent. Her eyes were a graceful shape, and her pert nose and rosebud lips too dignified to ever be plain.

  She led him out a pair of back doors to a vast stone palazzo, surrounded on all sides by slumbering winter gardens.

  “There’s a pretty archway this direction,” she said, gesturing down the wide stairs to the left, “if you’d like to go there.”

  “Of course.” He offered his arm, but she hesitated, glancing toward the doors.

  “How strange to walk off alone. Perhaps your sister ought to join us?”

  He nearly laughed, remembering how quickly Rosalind’s desire for fresh air had been rebuffed. “I think our parents prefer us to go off alone, to become better acquainted. It’s hard to get to know one another in a parlor, having tea.”

  She bit her lip, a frequent mannerism. “I suppose that’s true.”

  At last she accepted his arm, barely leaning upon it as they traversed the palazzo’s grand staircase and descended into the Earl of Mayhew’s manicured backyard. It was a large garden for a city manor, certainly larger than the fenced patch of nature behind his town home, which suited him well enough, since he wasn’t the gardening sort.