Page 20 of The Truth about the Marquess
Oliver grinned, his shoulders straightening as a strong hope swept over him.
“I am a good deal more optimistic than I think I have ever been!” he declared, seeing her smile back at him. “With your assistance, with Lord Dunstable’s support, and The London Chronicle’s writer, I amcertainto achieve success this Season. I am sure of it.”
“I do hope so,” came the reply as Lady Harsham lifted her glass in a toast to his success. “By the end of the Season, may you be betrothed to the young lady you have always hoped for.”
Chapter Eight
Jane closed her eyes and let out a long, slow breath. The questions that arose in her mind, she quietened one by one, telling herself that she had considered her response and had written not one but three responses, with the third response the most satisfactory.
“This gentleman will know my opinion on his behavior,” she murmured, opening her eyes and looking down at what she had written. The letter she had received today had come from a gentleman, albeit a young fellow, she presumed. He sought advice from her, stating that there were those in his company who were encouraging him towards doing nothing other than enjoying himself this Season in all manner of ways, while others were suggesting that he behave as well as he ought. The latter were called dull and staid and foolish by the former gentlemen, and thus, this young fellow found himself torn between two lots of acquaintances and friends.
Jane’s words were not sweet nor kind nor considerate. Instead, she had been direct and firm, telling him precisely that the first advice he had been given must have come from the most selfish, arrogant, and inconsiderate gentlemen in all of Londonand then questioning whether that was the sort of fellow he wished to become. Yes, her words were sharp on occasion but if she could prevent this fellow from becoming yet another rogue or scoundrel within society, then that would satisfy her. That, she considered, was the last thing that thetonrequired – and she had said as much.
“Good afternoon, my dear friend. Are you quite ready?”
Jane turned, just as Lady Guilford walked into the room. Having already informed the butler that she was to let the lady into the house at any time, she smiled and then nodded.
“I am. This play does sound very interesting indeed, though I must quickly seal this letter before we go.”
She caught the flash of interest in her friend’s eyes as she turned to seal the letter with wax, though she concentrated on that rather than on answering her friend’s unspoken questions. Ringing the bell, she smiled at Lady Guilford as she waited for the footman, though she still said nothing.
“You are not going to tell me anything about this, are you?”
Handing the letter to the footman with strict instructions to have it delivered at once, Jane arched an eyebrow as she looked back at her friend.
“I cannot tell you everything that I have received or that I write,” she answered, as Lady Guilford chuckled. “You shall have to wait until it is printed come the morrow. Did you know that what I write has become so popular, it is now given an entire page rather than a mere corner? I have had to respond to three letters today and two yesterday!”
“And were there any more from Lord Edenbridge?”
“I do not think it would be right to tell you,” Jane teased, aware of the slight tug in her heart. “Even in speaking of him, I confess I feel a great deal of sympathy.”
“Sympathy? Still?”
As they walked to the front door and then into Lady Guilford’s carriage, her question hung between them, waiting for Jane’s answer. It was not until she was seated and the carriage rolling along towards the theatre that Jane answered.
“Yes, I have a great deal of sympathy for him, still. I have seen – or rather, I have heard – his distrust of thetonand I can well understand why that is. He has so many people speaking of him and speaking unfairly, that, there is almost no hope left for him to secure a good match. Which is why I have offered to help him.”
She winced inwardly, waiting for the explosion of a response that she expected from Lady Guilford, but nothing came from her other than silence. Indeed, it was some minutes before her friend responded and, when she did, it was with a softness about her voice.
“You have always been very kindhearted, Jane.” Lady Guilford reached across and patted Jane’s hand. “Did you tell him that you were writing the letters back to him?”
Jane shook her head, relieved that Lady Guilford had not expressed great astonishment over what she had chosen to do.
“No, I did not. I said that I might be able to find out a little more about the characters and qualities of the three young ladies he will choose at the first,” she said, by way of explanation. “Recall that, in the letter, I did encourage him to consider only three young ladies at any one time.”
“I do remember, and I thought it good advice. Though I must wonder if you are able to keep your two roles separate.”
A frown dug into Jane’s forehead.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that I do not understand why you do not simply tell him that you are also writing letters to him in The London Chronicle, if you are going to also be assisting him in other, more practical ways.” Lady Guilford tilted her head, her gazesearching. “If you do not tell him the truth now, then you may find yourself accidentally giving yourself away and causing both confusion and, mayhap, some hurt.”
Considering this, Jane shook her head.
“I do value your opinion, but I do not think that I want to tell him, not as yet. It may be that my advice is not needed for long, and then all will be well.”
Lady Guilford sighed and shook her head.
