Lady Jane's Ribbons by Sandra Wilson Read Free Book Online Page B

couldn’t say, my lady. I left word, and if he does return he’ll be told straightaway.’
    If he returned. It was a very big if, for the journey to Brighton took all of five hours, even in a crack coach like the Iron Duke, which meant ten hours on the road, excluding whatever time he spent there. She glanced at her little gold fob watch. She’d last seen him at about eleven that morning, and then he’d driven to Thames Street and had the Iron Duke made ready, so he couldn’t possibly have set off much before midday. She sighed, for even if he drove all the way to Brighton and back at breakneck speed, with barely a halt in between, he still couldn’t be back in London much before eleven tonight, at the very earliest. Then he’d have to change and drive to Lyndon house in Berkeley Square, which meant it would be nigh on midnight before there was any chance at all of seeing him at the ball! And what if he’d forgotten it anyway and intended staying overnight in Brighton?
    Oh, no, surely he wouldn’t…. But, unfortunately, it was only too possible ; she knew her brother only too well.
    And she had problems of her own if he wasn’t there to escort her to the ball, because she didn’t have her companion, Mrs Rogers, either. Sometimes it was very tiresome being a single lady in society. Under the circumstances she’d be reduced to just Ellen, which wasn’t really the thing but surely wasn’t so dreadful a sin – at least she didn’t think it was.

SIX
    Shortly after this, she was seated at the escritoire in the blue saloon trying to write a letter to her favorite aunt, Lady Agatha Derwent, when through the open windows she distinctly heard the sound of a carriage above thenoise of the crowds. Could it be Henry? Had he remembered after all and turned back? Swiftly, she got up and hurried to the balustrade overlooking the vestibule, but as she gazed down to see who was admitted, the hope faded abruptly away, for it was Charles Moncarm, Marquis of Bourton, who stepped inside and handed his hat, gloves, and cane to Melville.
    ‘Is Lady Jane at home?’ she heard him ask.
    ‘I’m up here, Charles.’
    He smiled up at her. ‘Good afternoon, Jane.’
    ‘Good afternoon, Charles. Please come on up. Melville, will you serve some tea in the blue saloon?’
    ‘Very well, my lady.’ The butler bowed and withdrew.
    Charles came up the staircase toward her. He was twenty-seven years old and of medium height and build, his wavy brown hair worn in the side-whiskers which were fast becoming the rage with gentlemen of fashion. He wore a mulberry coat and gray trousers, and there was a ruby pin in the center of his discreet, uncomplicated cravat. His looks were agreeable rather than handsome, but his hazel eyes had a certain appeal which made him far from unpopular with the opposite sex. To Jane, however, he was simply Charles, the friend she’d grown up with and liked so very much, and who would never amount to anything more, no matter how much he wished it otherwise.
    Reaching the top of the staircase, he drew her hand to his lips. ‘It’s good to see you again. Six months is far too long.’
    ‘It’s good to see you again too, Charles.’
    ‘I hope I haven’t called at an inconvenient time.’
    ‘No, I was just about to try and write to Aunt Derwent.’
    ‘Try? I thought letter writing came disgustingly easily to you.’
    ‘It does usually, but today I’ve got so much on my mind. Shall we go to the blue saloon?’
    He pulled her hand gently through his arm. ‘Can I be of any assistance with this whatever it is that’s on your mind?’
    ‘Not unless you can produce my odious brother out of thin air.’
    He closed the saloon’s elegant double doors behind him and leaned back against them for a moment, looking curiously at her. ‘Produce Henry out of thin air? Have you lost him then?’
    ‘In a manner of speaking. He’s taken himself off to Brighton, would you believe, and on Blanche’s big day! I could box