Page 52
The stark contrast to how Madame Dubois had made her feel was evident, and she had Richard and Calliope to thank. They believed she deserved such elegance, and although she was yet to fully embrace this notion, their confidence infused her with hope. Could she dare to dream of the life she might have lived if fate hadn’t intervened?
“As you should,” Penelope said.
Emma, toying with a pair of elbow-length gloves adorned with petite flowers, asked, “How is your marriage with Preston, Penelope? You two have seemed much happier since you mended things.”
Penelope’s pale complexion bloomed into a rosy blush. “It’s very good.”
“Very good?” Emma’s suggestive tone elicited heated blushes from both Jane and Calliope.
“Well, yes, but let’s not discuss that with the unmarried ladies present,” Penelope giggled, her eyes finding Jane’s heated expression. “Oh, Jane, we didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
“But Jane is soon to be a married woman,” Emma countered. “You don’t have a mother to discuss these things with, do you?”
Jane shook her head. “No, I don’t.”
“And, Calliope,” Penelope began, only to be interrupted by Calliope herself.
“Calliope has no intention of getting married. So, you might as well talk about these things because I’ll never have to go through them, anyway. Besides, how do you know I don’t already know?”
Emma gasped, leaning forward in anticipation, her brows knitting in confusion. “Calliope, whatever do you mean?”
Nonchalantly, Calliope propped herself against the mirror, picking at her fingernails, a mysterious air about her. “Remember my penchant for reading? And not just any books but the forbidden ones?”
A chorus of “Yes” echoed from Emma, Penelope, and Jane.
A sudden shadow of pain clouded Calliope’s eyes as she stared down at her hands. “In Grandhampton Court, the library held more than just detective novels.”
An uncomfortable silence descended upon them. Calliope looked away, fumbling with the skirt of her dress, her gaze distant and preoccupied.
Breaking the tension, Emma took hold of the conversation. “Well, that leaves you, Jane. Wouldn’t you appreciate a few…tips before the wedding night? My mother never prepared me, and oh, how I wish she had. Sir Jasper was not the most considerate of partners. Not like Sebastian.”
“Sir Jasper was your first husband, right?” Jane inquired. “The one who sold you at a wife sale? I only know bits and pieces of your past.”
“Yes, the very same. He had entrapped me in an invalid marriage as part of a calculated fraud. His intention in selling me was to teach me a lesson. He expected me to end up with a farmer or a blacksmith, but fate had a duke in store… The duke who became my world. And trust me when I say he is the epitome of consideration, thoughtfulness, and pure goodness.”
A smile slowly unfolded on Jane’s face, warmed by the happiness radiating from the two married women. A part of her yearned to surrender to this enticing life, to accept Richard’s proposal genuinely, to envision herself being happy with him for the rest of her life.
Yet, the image of her pupils flashed across her mind. She couldn’t just renounce her ambitions, her sense of duty to them for a more lavish existence. Even though Richard had said “my wife’s school,” he couldn’t really mean it. He wouldn’t like the reality of having a wife who was in Whitechapel every day.
“Perfect,” declared Mrs. Newman, stepping back to admire Jane with a satisfied smile. “That is it, Miss Grant. Why don’t you try on these slippers and see how they feel?” She produced a box, revealing the daintiest silver slippers adorned with artificial flowers. As she placed them next to Jane’s feet, a collective gasp filled the room. “Try them on. Stroll around a bit, and let your feet get acquainted with them. We wouldn’t want them pinching on your special day.”
24
As Richard rounded the corridor’s corner, he collided with something soft and shimmering. A squeak echoed in the hallway, causing him to momentarily freeze. It wasn’t something he had bumped into…it was someone—Jane. She teetered, off-balance and on the verge of tumbling.
Instinctively, Richard thrust out his arms, catching her by her delicate shoulders. Good heavens, she was a vision in the lavishly designed ball gown, crafted meticulously to enhance her natural elegance. It clung to her form, accentuating her curves, her graceful neck, and her chest, which rose and fell rhythmically with her breath.
He was at a loss for words.
His gaze swept over her, drinking in the sight of her. It was as if the long corridor lined with doors leading to various rooms seemed to evaporate. The large multipaned window at the end bathed Jane in a halo of sunlight, painting a picture of a church aisle, her standing before him, reciting vows.
“Jane,” he finally found his voice, a whisper lost in the grandeur of the house, “you’re absolutely stunning.”
With a quick movement, Jane flicked away a stray lock of hair caught in the rim of her spectacles. “Thank you,” she murmured, her chest heaving.
She looked incredibly enticing, her cheeks flushed, pupils dilated, and lips a tantalizing red. Merely being in her presence, inhaling the intoxicating scent of her, sent a rush of blood southward, awakening a desire within him. But he wanted more than her body—he longed for a place in her heart, yearned for her to be his wife.
“May I have a word with you?” he asked.
