“You do not. I’ve made my decision, and if the duke is of a mind, I’ll give him my permission to pay his addresses to you.” He took up his fork while her brothers remained deathly quiet on the other side of the table. “It’s unseemly for you to gallivant all over London by yourself or continue to attend ton events with nothing to show for it.”
“But—”
“No more excuses. I want you engaged by the end of the month. Ballantrae will do nicely. If your mother were alive, she would agree.”
A swath of grief fell over her. Jane pushed her plate away. “Mama would have wanted me to marry for love and friendship.”
“True. You take after her more than the other two.” Her father chewed thoughtfully, and once he swallowed, he continued. “Perhaps marriage will quell your penchant for the fanciful. Out of all the men I know, Ballantrae will suit. You’ll find purpose in being his duchess.”
She glanced at her brothers, but they both had their attention fixed to their plates. No help from that quarter. Cowards. “What if I’m interested in a different man?” Not that Finn was remotely thinking of marriage. He’d not yet indicated any sort of curiosity in her as a woman outside of that poor excuse of a kiss.
“Who?” The question was more of a demand than a polite inquiry.
Did she dare? On the heels of a hard swallow, Jane said, “Major Storme. He’s the second son of the Earl of Hadleigh.”
Her father snorted. “Absolutely not. That man is paralyzed if the rumors are true. He has no hope of fathering children, let alone doing anything else needful or of import.” He narrowed his eyes as he looked at her. “You’ll marry the duke, and that’s final. I won’t hear more of your nonsense or delays.”
Finally, Royce nodded. “It’s the more sensible choice, Jane.”
As if Finn wasn’t worth anything and should be tossed away into the gutter with rubbish.
In a fit of anger, she stood up from the table with such force her chair sailed over the floor. “The lot of you don’t understand how unfair this world is for women. You assume that because your sexual organs are phallic-shaped and on the outside of your body, they make you more powerful or the only ones who are capable of thinking, but you’re wrong.” Her throat tightened with unshed tears, and the last thing she wanted to do was break down in front of them.
The glob of golden scrambled eggs held on Royce’s fork halfway to his mouth fell to his plate with a soft plop!
Not even that could make her smile. “If you excuse me? I suddenly find myself sick to my stomach. Perhaps it’s the company.” Without waiting for an answer, she fled the room seconds before the first few tears fell to her cheeks.
An uphill path indeed, and she’d just lost the first step. She touched the fingers of one hand to the heart pendant her grandmother had given her. When it came time for a decision, would she have the courage to follow her heart over duty and responsibility?
Only time would tell. Too bad that was quickly running out.
*
Jane forgot allthe hurt and confusion the second Finn pulled up at the curb in front of her townhouse. The flashy phaeton featured red-painted wheels while two gorgeous bay mares pulled the equipage. Her heart skipped a beat as she exited the house, tying her bonnet’s ribbon beneath her chin as she went. Finn was so handsome and dashing sitting there with the reins in his gloved hands.
“Good afternoon, Major,” she said with a grin as she approached.
“It remains to be seen how good it is,” came his reply couched around a growl. “Playing with scandal if you don’t bring a maid, aren’t you?”
“I’m old enough to know how to deport myself.” She ignored his ill-humor. After stroking one of the horse’s noses, Jane hitched up her skirts and then climbed into the carriage. When she sat on the luxurious squabbed bench next to him, tingles danced down her spine. His citrus and sage scent enveloped her, and she sighed. “I, for one, am choosing to believe this afternoon will be quite joyous.”
“You would.” With a click of his tongue and a slight slap of the reins, Finn set the carriage into motion.
“Did you have difficulty coming out from under your bridge this morning?” She refused to let his mood foul the day. Instead, she turned her head and drew her gaze up and down his person. Gray breeches were tucked into shiny Hessian boots, a gray satin waistcoat embroidered with green ivy vines and tiny blue flowers called her attention to his flat abdomen, and his royal blue superfine jacket perfectly complimented his broad shoulders and muscled arms. At the last second, she stifled a sigh of pure appreciation.
Too bad a good portion of the ton was gone from London this time of year, for she wanted everyone to see him while they drove. He was the perfect picture of masculine elegance.
Finn grunted. “That never fails to amuse.” A grudging grin pulled at the corners of his mouth. “However, no. Suffice it to say that my disposition has come from my inability to find the correct way forward in my book.”
“Your book?” She straightened her posture. “Never say you’re writing one.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Does this surprise you?”
“Quite frankly, yes, but it’s fantastic!” She turned toward him in her enthusiasm. “What seems to be the problem?”
“I cannot make my characters do what they don’t want.” Those sensuous lips turned down in a frown. “They wish to do things not relevant to the story.”
“Such as?”