Was there no end to Bertie’s optimism? Jane was fairly certain she’d exhausted every prospect in London by now. Even dependable Mr. MacPherson, who’d provided her uncle with a source of speculation all season, must have been scared off by Eli.
Besides, none of them would hold any interest for her. None of them had the expressive brown eyes she’d grown to admire, or the attentive manner, or the spark of animation that lit him when he spoke.
If there was someone out there for Jane, she’d found him years ago, and the chance had passed unclaimed.
Fortunately, Della came to call shortly after breakfast and saved her from wallowing in self-pity any longer.
“I can’t wait to hear everything,” Della whispered as they scurried away from her family’s prying eyes to the safety of the library.
“You don’t know the half of it,” Jane said miserably. “Something else happened. Cecily told Uncle Bertie about our club, and now he’s forbidden me to continue.”
“What?” Seeing Jane’s anguish, Della pulled her into a quick hug. “Don’t fret, I’m sure we can find a solution. Might we change his mind?”
“I don’t think so. He’s convinced that gambling will ruin my reputation for marriage. You know how he is about finding me a match. He’s said that I may only attend one last time to close things down.”
“I suppose he leaves us no choice then.” Della drew in a long breath, as if steeling herself for disappointment. But when she continued speaking, it wasn’t the voice of a woman defeated. “After this meeting, we’ll take a break to divert suspicion, and then we’ll think of something more proper to occupy you. A charity, perhaps? Your uncle could accompany you once or twice to see that it’s real, then once he drops his guard, you’ll start coming back to my house again. We’ll have to move the dates around. We mustn’t betooobvious. And we might consider having our members swear an oath of secrecy from now on…”
Jane blinked in amazement. “You didn’t even need to think about it!”
How had she conjured all of that so easily? It was incredible, really.
“What is there to think about? Surely you don’t intend to give up now! You love our club.”
“I do, but I can’t lie to my uncle.”
“Why on earth not?” A pucker appeared in Della’s chin as she struggled to make sense of this. “You get to keep doing what makes you happy, and he’s happier too, for not knowing about it. It’s what’s best for everyone.”
Could it really be so easy? The image of Bertie’s hopeful face hovered in her mind’s eye, the way he walked on pins and needles when he nudged some hapless gentleman in her direction. Misguided, yes, but only because he wanted the best for her. How crushed he would be if he knew that she’d gone behind his back.
Jane’s reluctance must have shown plainly, for Della shook her head in disappointment. “Never mind. You can think on it a bit longer and tell me when you’re ready to acknowledge my genius. I still want to hear the rest of what happened at Ascot, if you please.”
Jane poured the story out, though it took nearly a quarter hour to recount properly. She began with the kiss she’d shared with Eli at the Ankerwycke Priory, hurrying over the rest of their visit with the Lindens until she arrived at the evening of the Pearsons’ ball, where she provided Della with a general outline of how the night had unfolded after they parted ways.
“With histongue?”
It seemed Jane had, at long last, found an adventure to impress her friend. Her cheeks grew hot. “Never mind that, the problem is what happened the next morning.”
She relayed Cecily’s interrogations and her ensuing row with Eli, complete with her analysis of the inflection of each word. By the time she’d reached the end, Jane was feeling morose once more.
“…And then I told him we shouldn’t see each other.”
“Why would you do such a thing?” Della exclaimed crossly.
“Because it will only fuel more talk.” Surely this was obvious. “He fought with Mr. MacPherson over me.” Seeing Della about to protest, she continued quickly, “Or near enough to it. If people see us often together, they’ll conclude it’s true. And once Uncle Bertie hears of it, he’ll expect Eli to marry me, just as he did with Cecily.”
“Don’t you want to marry him?”
“No!”
“Truly?” Della squinted, as if expecting a different answer to reveal itself under closer scrutiny. “You’ve always said you were choosing the club instead of marriage, but Lieutenant Williams knows what we’re doing and didn’t mind one whit. He’s an officer, he has an income to support you, and if he gives you his permission to continue running the club, your uncle can hardly interfere. What are you looking for that he lacks?”
“Someone who wasn’t with Cecily first.” The words tumbled from her lips without any need to think about them. “And who won’t spend most of our marriage across the world from me,” she added. She probably should’ve opened with that part.
“Jane…” Della’s voice carried a note of fatigue. As if she were addressing a beloved but stubborn child. “At some point you may need to decide whether your competition with Cecily is more important to you than your own happiness.”
“Mycompetition with Cecily?” Jane repeated, stunned. “I’m not competing with her.She’sthe one competing with me. You see how she is.”
Competing wasn’t even the word for it. Sabotaging, more like. The continual barbs and snide remarks—Jane never did anything to warrant that.
