Page 63 of Lord Garson's Bride

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To her surprise, he reached out to still the busy fingers that turned her unimpressive gown into a creased mess. “They could become your friends, too.”

Wondering how she could leap from elation to such confused awkwardness in the space of half an hour, she swallowed. She made herself speak the fatal name. “Morwenna is married to Silas and Helena’s brother.”

She braced for anger, but the eyes that studied her were thoughtful instead of condemning. “We live in a small world, Jane. You’ll have to lock yourself away in a cellar, if you intend to avoid everyone connected with Morwenna. You must have known when we came to London that you’d bump up against reminders of my previous engagement.”

She’d known. She wasn’t a fool. But that didn’t mean she had to become bosom bows with people so closely connected with her rival.

Shock shuddered through her. Her rival? What nonsense was that? With a shaking hand, she set her glass on the table near her elbow.

Morwenna had already won this particular race, whether she wanted to come in first or not. Jane was perpetually assigned to last place. A fact that grew more depressing by the day.

Hugh’s voice deepened with the compassion that was such an essential part of his nature. “I know this is difficult, but there areadvantages to facing your fears.” A smile lightened his somber expression. “As I’m sure I don’t have to tell you.”

He referred to what a namby-pamby twit she’d been on their wedding night. “I suppose so,” she said reluctantly.

“You’re afraid of talk, I can understand that. If I could, I’d spare you the gossip.”

He was wrong. She was more afraid of her handsome husband making sheep’s eyes at his lost love, while he forgot he had a wife with a call on his loyalty.

When she remained quiet, he went on. “You know, the best way to counter rumors is to hold your head high and prove you don’t care a snap of the fingers for what people say. If you’re so untroubled by the old scandal that you’re ready to make friends with Morwenna’s family, the wagging tongues will have nothing to spread poison about. If you set up a silly feud with the Nashes and their circle, it will only fan the tattle.”

She wished he’d release her hand, so she could go back to fiddling with her skirt. “That’s easy for you to say,” she said, hating how sulky she sounded.

“Not really.”

Something in his tone made her rise above her worries and really look at him. A tightness around his eyes hinted that he was equally reluctant to brave the arena of public opinion with his bride. What an idiot she was. Of course he was. And it was worse for him because he loved Morwenna.

While she wasn’t quite ready to surrender, what he said made sense. “I’ll do my best,” she mumbled.

“That’s my girl.”

Despite her unhappiness, his approval made her heart swell. “Is Morwenna in Town?”

He shook his head. “She rarely comes to London. She and her husband live on an estate in Devon that once belonged to Silas.”

Jane suddenly felt ashamed of herself. Hugh must loathe speaking of his failed romance. She twined her fingers in his and mustered a smile as false as his composure in the face of irreparable loss. “I’m sorry, Hugh. I’m being silly. I’ll be very happy to ask Caro to help me.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Jane was still on edge two days later, when Hugh escorted her to Lord Stone’s elegant house in Berkeley Square. Despite Silas and Caro being so kind to her at the wedding, she didn’t feel near ready to face a multitude of Morwenna’s friends and family.

Nor did the wasp dress do much to bolster her confidence for her first London party. It had arrived from themodisteyesterday, along with its slightly less offensive companions, and was even worse than she remembered.

Looking in her mirror before leaving Half Moon Street, she heartily wished she’d never bought it. But Susan had insisted that the style was all the crack, and as the afternoon wore on, her sister had become increasingly annoyed when Jane vetoed all her suggestions. In the end, Jane had chosen three gowns not because she liked them, but to placate Susan.

The problem was that when one attended an intimate dinner in Mayfair, one needed to wear an evening gown. The wasp dress was the only candidate. Which meant she did what she’d done so often in her life. She put aside what she’d prefer and made do with what she had.

But, oh, how fervently she wished she met Hugh’s sophisticated friends looking her best.

“Are you ready?” Hugh asked in an undertone, taking her gloved hand to help her from the carriage. He was tall andhandsome in formal black. His sartorial perfection only made her more miserably aware that she looked a complete antidote.

Jane bit back, “As I’ll ever be,” and struggled to sound as if she wasn’t terrified. “Yes, I am.”

He cast her a skeptical glance but bless him, didn’t argue. As they mounted the stone steps to the open door, he squeezed her fingers in encouragement.

They paused in the hallway to remove their outer wear. To her husband’s credit, while his first glimpse of her garish gown made him blink, he maintained his composure. He took her arm, and followed the butler into a sumptuous drawing room.

“Lord and Lady Garson, my lady,” the butler intoned from the doorway.