Page 64 of To Swoon and to Spar
“I had not previously been worried about that, but now you’ve made me wonder if I should be.”
Diana rolled her eyes and turned to glance over her shoulder; they’d walked a ways down the path, but the manor loomed large behind them. “Shall we return to the house?”
“I— Why?” he asked suspiciously.
“Because,” she said, a speculative gleam coming to her eye, one that Penvale knew from past experience to be very wary of, “if I’m going to work out whethershelovesyou,I’ll need to observe the two of you together.”
“But I didn’t ask—”
“I know. That’s never stopped me before,” she said serenely, which was true.
“You’re not to say anything to her,” he warned.
“Calm down, you’re making a terrible fuss,” she said, tugging on his arm. She held up her hand to block the sunlight as she squintedahead. “Is that West’s carriage pulling up? Oh, yes, I can see the crest.”
Penvale stared in the direction she was pointing. “How can you possibly see his crest from this distance?” he asked incredulously; all he saw was a somewhat blurry carriage-shaped thing making rapid progress down the drive.
Diana gave him a strange look. “Do you need spectacles?”
Penvale heaved a sigh. “You are not, as it happens, the first person to ask me that question recently,” he said, and then took her by the elbow as he headed to greet their guest.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jane was certain she wasbeing watched.
Oh, not in a frightening way—or at least not in a way that made her fear for her safety. Not even in the uneasy way that she felt when she was in a roomful of strangers and was expected to speak, everyone’s eyes on her.
No, what she was feeling now was merely a strange, overpowering suspicion that Diana was watching her, though she was giving every appearance ofnotdoing anything of the sort. Every time Jane glanced at her, she was flirting with her husband, laughing with her friends, teasing her brother. And yet Jane was nonetheless certain that, when she was not looking, Diana’s gaze was burning into her back.
Jane might not be terribly socially skilled, but even she knew that to stand up and dramatically denounce one of her guests forstaring at her!would not be at all the thing, so she did her best to put the suspicion out of her mind. It was exhausting enough playing hostess without accusing her sister-in-law of—well, of looking at her.
“Is something wrong, Lady Penvale?” inquired Lady Fitzwilliam Bridewell at this juncture, drawing Jane out of her thoughts. It was after dinner, and they’d adjourned to the library—there had been talk of a game of charades, but the crowd had naturally split into a fewsmall groups, all in eager conversation. The sound of laughter and clinking glasses filled the room, and a fire crackled merrily in the grate.
It was lovely, Jane thought. If only she could relax enough to enjoy it.
She blinked at Lady Fitzwilliam—Sophie, as she’d been given leave to call her. Sophie had been the last to arrive that afternoon, alighting from her carriage with a weary smile, accompanied by her maid.
Jane shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m not terribly good in crowds—I’m much more comfortable observing these sorts of things rather than actually participating in them.”
Sophie smiled. She had a beautiful smile, and Jane happened to glance over just as the Marquess of Weston’s casual perusal of the room landed on Sophie; he looked like a man who’d been struck in the chest with a forceful blow. Jane stared at him: Penvale had mentioned some matchmaking scheme on the part of his sister and her friends regarding West and Sophie, and some sort of tragic history between the two, but this single expression on West’s face told Jane more than anything else how deep that feeling ran.
“I think you’re doing just fine,” Sophie said.
“You lie very convincingly,” Jane told her, and Sophie let out a peal of delighted laughter.
“Thank you, I suppose,” Sophie said. “But I truly do think you’re doing quite well, all things considered. It can’t be easy, being thrust into this group, not knowing anyone, when they’re all so… attached.” A slightly wistful note in her voice made Jane take notice.
“Have you not been friends with them long?” Jane asked curiously, so genuinely interested to know the answer that she didn’t even waste time congratulating herself on managing to phrase a question in a somewhat normal fashion. Sophie seemed entirely at ease—Jane had seen her making merry conversation with Violet and Emily earlier, andshe had said something to Penvale upon her arrival that had made him laugh out loud.
“I’ve known West and Audley for years,” Sophie said lightly, her tone not inviting any further questions regarding that particular history, “but I only became better acquainted with Violet and her friends last summer. They’re all lovely, of course,” she added, and there was genuine warmth in her voice, “but theyhaveknown each other for an awfully long time.”
“I’ve never—” Jane began, and then fell silent, willing the words to come. Speaking her feelings had never come easily to her. “I’ve never had friends the way Penvale does. To hear him speak of them—they sound like family to him.” She cast her eyes down at her lap as she spoke, unable to face whatever pity she might see in Sophie’s gaze. “I don’t wish to force myself into a place where I’m not wanted when it seems he already has everything he needs.”
Or, rather, everyonehe needed. Jane did not voice this thought, however.
Sophie did not reply for a long moment—long enough that Jane risked lifting her eyes to take a quick peek. Instead of whatever she feared she might see on the other woman’s face, she saw nothing more than a thoughtful expression; she had the impression that Sophie was choosing her words carefully.
“I do not think you have spent enough time with Penvale around his friends to see some of what I have seen,” Sophie said at last. “I do not presume to know him remotely as well as you do—he and I have never been particularly intimate, and I am not one he would share confidences with. But I have spent enough time at the edges of this group to observe them at some length, whether or not they realized I was doing so. And I can tell you right away that Penvale has alwaysexisted… Hmm.” She gave a frustrated sigh, as though the words were not coming as easily to her as she might wish, and Jane experienced a moment of empathy—this, after all, had been her own experience for much of her life.
