Chapter Twenty-six
THAT EVENING, NUMEROUS candles lit the drawing room as guests at Jane’s salon seated themselves and chatted before her talk.
Jane walked to the lectern placed in front the family’s new piano and waited for her guests to pay attention.
She looked out across the room of attendees, smiling at old friends and noting new faces.
She drew breath to start her brief introduction before launching into her paper upon the need for access to university education for women. As she did so, the rear doors of the room opened quietly to admit a late arrival. She paused to wait for the person to be seated before commencing.
Jonathan and his sister entered the room.
Jane gasped. Jonathan quickly scanned the room for available seats and led his sister to the front directly before Jane.
Elizabeth smiled at Jane in greeting and apology for their lateness.
Blood pounded in Jane’s ears. Her gaze fixed on Jonathan’s face as he took his seat with an air of interested expectation.
Their eyes locked, and Jane’s body froze.
Her mind did not.
It raced.
What was he doing here? Had they not agreed to go their separate ways?
She had expected never to see him again except across the vast space of a crowded ballroom where they would nod towards each other in distant politeness.
Now he was here—in the front row—looking as though he had every reason to be there.
Still their eyes were riveted to each other’s. Jane couldn’t read his. They were dark pools, and she was drowning in them.
She consciously pulled her gaze from his to take in the unchanged nature of his face, his curling brown hair swept forward upon his brow, his straight nose and sensual curved mouth, and that stubborn chin.
His barber had tended him recently and there wasn’t a shadow of stubble upon his face, but two luxurious side whiskers emphasized his prominent cheekbones.
As she continued to stare, his eyebrows crooked into querying apostrophes, and the quirk of his mouth showed his amusement with her stunned response to his presence.
Jane tore her eyes from him and looked around the room, realizing that the audience had grown restless from the delay.
She glanced down at her notes, trying to bring her focus upon them, then began the talk abruptly with a little stutter.
The room quietened again as the guests listened and considered her argument.
A few minutes into the talk, she made the error of including Jonathan in her survey of the room when making a point and faltered again.
Had he taken to tying his cravat in a different way since they had parted?
It appeared so. What else had he changed in his efforts to forget her by obliterating everything in his life that reminded him of her?
He looked immaculate in his evening clothes.
Oh, when will this talk be over? She looked around the room again for a smiling face to focus upon as a lifebuoy while she floundered in the turbulent sea of her disrupted talk.
Then she found her sister Anna smiling at her from the third row.
Charlotte and William sat on either side of the audience.
At each pause to deliver a point to each part of the room—left and right and center—she focused on her siblings’ smiling faces, ignoring all distractions from the front row.
With relief, she uttered her concluding sentence, smiled at the room of attendees in an all-encompassing way, and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, supper will be served now, and discussion is welcome.”
Then she dared to look at him again.
Jonathan rose from his seat and turned to assist his sister. He looked tall and masculine and authoritative. Jane yearned to touch his face, to feel his soft lips upon hers and his hard arms cradling her body. Her heart ached. The pain of their separation wasn’t over and appeared it never would be.
Why had she fallen in love with this man—this most incompatible man?
His deep, mellow voice broke into her thoughts. “Well, Jane?”
“Lord Dalton, you’re here.” Could I have responded any more inanely?
His mouth twitched with suppressed amusement. “Indeed, I am.” He bowed over her hand. “Elizabeth wouldn’t miss one of your salons for anything but a summons to Carlton House. How could I disappoint her by not playing chaperone?”
Jane responded in a similar light manner. “You are a dutiful brother.”
He retained her hand in his firm grip. “May I take this opportunity to congratulate you on your recent inheritance and the resultant relief of your financial woes. I am truly pleased that you have prospered and are no longer beholden to others for your family’s fate or fortune.”
He looked sincere, so Jane answered him in kind. “It is a pleasant feeling to know one’s future and that of one’s loved ones is buffered from the ups and downs of life.”
“But is that all that is necessary for a happy life, Jane? Is there not much more that you can envisage for yourself that would give you true contentment?”
“What do you suggest I am missing?”
“Love of a husband and your children to go with it?”
Jane scoffed. “How typical of a man to present that rosy picture as the ultimate prize for a woman. And are you suggesting yourself as part of that prize?”
“Not at all, Miss Brody, I was merely raising the prospect as a discussion point,” he answered deadpan. “As you suggested, discussion was the purpose of this evening.”
Curse the man’s self-assurance. Jane shot him a tight smile and inclined her head before turning to her other guests.
Jane spent the next hour with her guests discussing the issue of women’s education.
Women’s attendance at university seemed as far beyond the scope of possibility as reaching the moon when most of the female population was illiterate and the majority of the remainder were denied any education approaching that of their brothers.
By the time Jane could talk with her sisters, only a few close friends remained. Dr. Logan had arrived after the talk concluded, with sincere apologies for having been delayed by a birth. Jane then understood the circumstances that had compelled Lord Dalton to accompany his sister.
Anna asked whether Jane had had time to talk with Lord Dalton this evening. When she answered in the affirmative, Anna replied, “Well?” as though she expected Jane to have learned something out of the ordinary or come to some conclusion.
“What are you implying, Anna? What ought I to have gleaned from him?”
“Didn’t you ask him about our mystery pamphlet writer?”
“Why on earth would I have asked him that? He is probably the last person I would expect to know the writer,” Jane scoffed.
Anna appeared incredulous. “By now you must have guessed that Lord Dalton is the anonymous pamphleteer, have you not?”
Surely not! Jane’s mouth gaped open. “How do you know this?”
“His sister found evidence of large printing costs in his cash book.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Only by asking him, I suppose. You should do that. I haven’t the bravery to do so, and he wouldn’t tell me.”
“Elizabeth should do it.”
“She already believes she knows, so there is no reason to ask.”
Jane looked across the room at Jonathan lounging on a low chair with his legs thrust in front of him. He was conversing with Dr. Logan in an easy manner, which seemed to Jane to bode well for the future harmony of the family.
Still shocked by her sister’s revelation, she was torn between dismissing the idea as ludicrous and accepting that Jonathan could easily have written the pamphlet after discussion with Dr. Logan. But why? What could have caused such a change in his attitudes in such a short time?
Resolved to take action, Jane watched for the gentlemen’s conversation to end and approached Jonathan with her challenge. “Lord Dalton, I have heard it rumored that you are the anonymous new writer of pamphlets in support of women’s rights. Is that so?”
“Where could you have got that Banbury tale, Miss Brody?”
“Is it true?”
“Who says so?”
“My source is your sister.”
For a moment he looked dismayed. “Ah, Elizabeth.” He straightened and looked at her closely with his piercing gaze. His shoulders slumped. “I don’t know how she could have come by that information, but it is true,” he admitted.
“I’m shocked!”
“And you look it, Jane.” A smile played around his mouth.
“What has caused this turn around? When did you become a supporter of bluestockings and women’s rights?”
“I have been thinking deeply about things you have said, Jane. I find myself agreeing with many of your ideas... but I don’t think the majority of the population will accept them anytime soon.” He gave a sympathetic smile.
Jane didn’t know how to respond to this change in Jonathan. Had she really caused this shift in his world view? There was no reward for him doing this—other members of the House of Lords would be horrified if they knew they had a radical amongst them.
Her heart swelled with love for him. In her most hopeful dreams of their life together, Jonathan changing to a supporter of women’s rights had never formed a part of it. Agreeing to differ and taking a neutral stance to each other’s views had appeared the most she could expect.
Hope flickered within her, building into a warm flame... hope they now had some chance of forging a life together. But such a thing would require Jonathan to propose again. And there was no indication he would.
Initially he had proposed to obtain a wife while saving her and her family from penury. Now there was no reason for him to align himself with her. He needed a wife, a lady, to support his career. The chances of him choosing her again were next to none.
The last guests were leaving. Jonathan bowed over her hand and told her he had been interested to hear her proposals.
Thanking him, Jane ventured, “I hope that in the near future we may hear a talk by you concerning your recently published views. We would be very glad of your support in continuing our cause.”
Jonathan gave Jane a searching look and hesitated before answering. “I don’t know how much more support I can promise.” His face was closed, as though he didn’t welcome any further questioning.
Disappointment pricked her. “We would be grateful for any.”
Jonathan inclined his head in noncommittal acknowledgement of her request. “On a more personal note, as I have not heard from you of any consequences from our indiscretion at Christmas, am I correct in believing that there were none?”
Jane blushed and looked down at her hands, clasped tightly at her waist. “You are correct. You may continue to feel relieved that there were no unhappy consequences.” Despair gripped her heart and squeezed.
Jonathan bowed formally, and Jane responded.
The departing guests swept him along with them. She let him go into the night with Dr Logan and Lady Elizabeth without another word. He didn’t look back.
She knew then that he would never offer for her again.
***
JONATHAN ESCORTED HIS sister to her bedchamber door. He wished her good night and kissed her on the cheek.
Elizabeth looked at him with anxious eyes. She must have sensed his despair. She touched his arm. “Don’t give up hope.”
Despair clutched at his heart. There was no hope. He shook his head, not trusting himself to speak without revealing his emotions. Instead he turned and strode down the hall.
In his own chamber, Jonathan ripped the cravat from around his neck and tossed it to the floor. Damn you, Jane, you care nothing for me, only about my influence for your cause.
His valet entered from the dressing room to assist him, only to be swiftly sent away. Jonathan sat on the four-poster bed to remove his shoes and stockings.
When you knew that I was the anonymous pamphleteer, did you thank me? He threw his shoes to the floor.
No, instead you said, “I’m shocked.” His stockings joined the shoes.
And coolly asked, “What has caused this turn around?” He stood and struggled out of his black evening jacket.
Did you show one flicker of emotion in response to me? He tossed the coat onto a chair.
No! He jerked the buttons of his waistcoat undone.
You asked, “When did you become a supporter of bluestockings and women’s rights?” He wrenched his shirt from his trousers.
As if it wasn’t obviously because I love you. He jerked the shirt over his head before sending it after his other clothes.
Did you say, “I love you?” He undid his trouser buttons and peeled the garment from his long legs before throwing it aside.
No! What did you say instead? He dragged his drawers off and kicked them aside.
You asked me to do more for the cause! Naked, his anger spent, he slumped onto the bed.
What more can I do to prove that I love you?
There was only one other thing.