Not for the first time since she’d slipped into Gabriel’s household did she feel the pinpricks of guilt sticking at her conscience. “I was.” She curled her fingers tightly into her palm. It wasn’t wholly a lie. Chloe had spoken in the past tense and Jane had once held one of those distinguished posts.
“You are not at all like any of the instructors I’d known.” A small sigh slid past the young woman’s lips. “What a very different time I would have had at Mrs. Belden’s had you been my instructor.” She wrinkled her nose. “Trust Mrs. Belden to do something as contradictory as hiring smiling, kindhearted and clever instructors such as you only after I’d left.”
“You may rest assured that Mrs. Belden still is in possession of her stern set, drumming lessons of propriety and properness into each and every lady,” she said dryly and then silently cursed at her quick tongue.
Except—Chloe burst out laughing. Her narrow shoulders shook with the force of her mirth and she dashed back tears from her cheeks. “Well, I am very glad she sent you to us.” With that she all but sprinted to the door, but then paused with her fingers on the handle. “Mrs. Munroe—Jane,” she self-corrected. “I believe we are going to get on very well.” One more smile, a jaunty wave, and a rapid snap of her skirts later, Chloe hurried from the room.
Jane stared at the closed door. With the trusting, kindhearted young woman’s faith in her and her worth, the weight of guilt magnified, pressing down on her like a boulder being applied to her chest. Before, she’d lied to strangers who believed her inferior. Gabriel, the austere nobleman, and his sister, the spoiled, indolent lady, had represented a path to freedom. Now, they were more. Gabriel was a brother who loved and loyally protected his sister. Chloe was a woman with dreams and hopes that existed beyond the strictures polite Society would impose.
She closed her eyes. Could she remain here under the guise of being sent by the harridan, Mrs. Belden, and violate Gabriel’s trust, while all the while strengthening a friendship with his sister?
Then, what choice did she have?
Chapter 9
“We must visit the modiste. We are in need of gowns.”
Seated behind his desk the following morning after his sister had gone and upended his carefully ordered world with her insistence on keeping Jane on as companion, Gabriel glanced up from the open ledgers upon his desk.
“Gowns,” Chloe repeated as though he one, didn’t know what a dress was, or two, as if there was something wrong with his hearing, which there certainly wasn’t. He was just two and thirty years, hardly one of those doddering old lords.
Either way, “You want to go shopping?” What would come next? She’d be hoping for suitors and eagerly planning her wedding? He snorted. Horses would likely fly above Tower Bridge before that day came.
“Not for me.” She clapped her hands together once in what he expected was a clue indicating he was to stand. He remained seated. His sister frowned. “For Jane.” Jane? As in Mrs. Munroe? The straitlaced, bespectacled woman whose kiss still haunted his waking and sleeping thoughts? “Now, do hurry.” With another clap of her hands, Chloe spun on her heel and started from the room.
He blinked, slowly processing that pert announcement. “Chloe?” he barked.
At once, she poked her head back inside his office. “Yes, Gabriel?”
How many years had he taken his brother, Alex, as the indolent, shiftless rogue? Gabriel swiped a hand over his face. Now, he appreciated that with his care of Chloe over the years, he’d spared Gabriel from a good deal of her scheming. He folded his hands before him and rested the interlocked digits upon the desk. “Just what does Jane,” his sister narrowed her eyes. A flush heated his neck. “What does Mrs. Munroe require new gowns for?”
With a beleaguered sigh better suited a bothered mama, she reentered the room. “Have you seen Jane?”
The bespectacled, plain young woman with her dull skirts slipped into his mind but as she’d been with her glasses knocked to the floor and the captivating blues of her eyes, her full lips swollen from his kiss. Unable to force out any words, he managed a nod.