“Where!” Lucy demanded, craning her neck to look over Jane’s shoulder.

“Right here.” Jane pointed to the top of a letter p. “The large circle here with the tail on the end of it is purely Lucy Hunt.”

Lucy scowled. “I do that?”

“Yes, but not to worry. While I noticed it, I doubt Mama would. I’d advise you never to attempt to disguise your handwriting in a message to me.” Jane laughed.

“You are quite clever. I’ll give you that. Though I cannot say such a skill sounds the least bit worth suffering through something that sounds as dreadful as Montague’s Treatise on Handwriting and Whathaveyou.”

“Graphology,” Jane said.

“Dull,” was Lucy’s answer.

Jane set the letter on the table in front of her. She lifted her teacup and took a sip. She sighed. “At any rate, it seems the Mrs. Bunbury plot at the wedding worked well enough, and I see no reason why it should not continue to work for a good, long while. Mama expects me to begin attending the events of the Season and I intend to tell her Mrs. Bunbury is accompanying me. Then I shall come here and read books in your library all evening.”

“Yes, well, as to that…” Lucy’s voice drifted off on a bit of a guilty note.

“What is it?” Jane asked, her teacup frozen in midair.

Lucy set down her cup and folded her hands in her lap. She looked so serious Jane’s palms began to sweat.

“It seems there’s been a bit of a complication.”

“Complication?” Jane echoed.

“Yes, I—”

“Out with it, Lucy. What is it?”

“I hate to be the one to tell you this and heaven knows I would have dragged Cass here with me to deliver this news if she weren’t already off on her honeymoon, but it seems that…”

“Yes,” Jane prompted.

“It seems that you might have created the scandal you wished for after all.”

Jane blinked. “Scandal? Me?” The teacup remained frozen.

“Yes.”

“What scandal?”

Lucy patted her coiffure. “There’s no easy way to say it so I’ll just come out and ask you.” She pursed her lips. “Were you running about the bachelors’ quarters in your dressing gown in the wee hours on the night of the wedding?”

Jane’s teacup clattered to the tabletop, tipped over, and spilled its contents across the rug.

Lucy bit her lip. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Jane could barely breathe. She stooped to sop up the mess with a napkin, desperately trying to think of what to say. Finally, she righted herself again and faced Lucy. “How do you—”

“Apparently one of the guests thought she saw you and, well, I must admit, I wondered for a moment if it might actually be a good thing, the scandal bit, I mean.”