“So, Towns, you’re engaged to Lady Jane, then?” said August.
“Yes, and I’ll thank you not to argue about the civility of it. I do like Jane, from what I know of the woman. I’m not only marrying her for revenge. She’s quite pretty, isn’t she? I saw her at the balls last season, dancing with Wescott.” He smiled. “No more dancing for those two.”
He finished his drink and put the cup back on the table. “Be happy for me, fellows. This is all working out exactly as I’d hoped. Jane and I won’t have much time to get to know one another before the wedding, but by the first ball of the Season, we’ll make a handsome figure together, and I’ll consider Wescott paid back for his perfidy in kind.”
“His perfidy?” August shook his head. “Wescott didn’t even know you were in love with Ophelia when he rescued her.”
“Don’t defend him.” He poured himself another drink, draining the already much depleted bottle. “At least not until I’m drunker.”
His friends might believe he was acting hastily, or unreasonably, but in time they’d come to understand what he’d realized on his way home from France—that this was the only way to even the score between him and his former friend. It would torment him to see his lovely blonde Ophelia on Lord Wescott’s arm about town, it always would, but it would sting a tiny bit less when he was wed to Wescott’s beautiful Lady Jane.
“What is it?” he asked his friends, as the waiter delivered a new brandy bottle. “Why must you look at me like that? I’m behaving more honorably than he did. He nearly ruined Ophelia, while I’m rescuing a recently jilted lady with a very generous marriage contract. Her father was so pleased by my offer, so surprised by my generosity he could barely speak.”
“Oh, I imagine he was surprised, all right,” said Marlow. “You’re about to be surprised, too.”
“What do you mean?” He looked from Marlow to Augustine. It was August who finally spoke.
“Townsend. Dear friend. It was Lady June to whom Wescott had promised marriage. Lady Juuuune.” He drew out the name, emphasizing the vowel. “The same Lady June who married Lord Braxton a couple weeks after Wescott married Ophelia.”
“Lady June?” Townsend blinked at his friend. “Are you sure?”
“You utter boff. You’ve betrothed yourself to the wrong woman,” Marlow said. “Not only that, but Lady Jane—”
August held up a hand, silencing him. “Be careful what you say now, Marlow. He’s going to marry her.”
“He ought to be warned first, don’t you think?”
Townsend’s brain was in a muddle, and it wasn’t from the strong drink. “What are you saying? Go back, please. There is a Jane and a June?”
“Not very creative of the Mayhews, but yes.” Marlow blinked, half frowning. “It’s like naming your daughters Margaret and Murgaret, isn’t it?”
“Or Agnes and Ugnes,” said August.
“Charlotte and Churlette,” Marlow offered, warming to the game.
“Shut up, would you?” Townsend waved a brusque hand. “Are you having me for a joke? I’ve never heard of this Jane, never seen her at any balls or gatherings.”
“It’s no joke,” said Marlow. “June is the elder sister, the one Wescott was meant for. Jane is the younger. They’re not at all the same.”
Townsend narrowed his eyes. “But when I spoke to Lord Mayhew of the way she’d been jilted, he agreed it had been a terrible thing.”
“Because Lady Jane suffered the same misfortune,” said Marlow. “She’d been meant to marry the Earl of Hobart as soon as Lady June was situated with Wescott. They’d had a marriage contracted for years, because those two families are thick as thieves, but Hobart broke the engagement. Not for another woman. Just because. He’ll not be received by many families next Season because of it.”
They all fell silent at the cruelty of such a maneuver.
“Hobart refused to marry her, then?” Townsend pushed his drink away. “For what reason? What’s wrong with her?”
Marlow and Augustine exchanged a woebegone look that did nothing to soothe his rising anxiety. “Tell me,” he insisted. “Tell me what I’ve done.”
“I can’t believe you don’t know about Lady Jane,” said August. “She’s a frequent subject of gossip.”
“I don’t listen to gossip. It’s rude and unmannerly.”
“And informative,” Marlow muttered, “when it comes to prospective brides.”
“Gossips are petty and tend to exaggerate the smallest flaws. Is there truly a problem? Don’t tell me she has lost her reputation somehow?”
“No, nothing like that. I don’t know her very well,” said August. “She’s loosely acquainted with Wescott’s youngest sisters. They met while he and June were considered an item. Not to put too much a panic on it, but in some circles the sister has been called…Insane Jane.”
“Her kinder nickname is ‘the naturalist,’” said Marlow. “Apparently, she’s been banned from the Exeter menagerie for protesting the animals’ captivity. She…” He swallowed hard, flushing. “She has apparently walked about in front of the building with a lettered sign.”