“Well?” Lucy prodded, impatiently tapping her slipper.

“Give me a moment.” Jane narrowed her eyes. “It’s definitely not Isabella’s handwriting on this letter from Harold.”

“But…?”

“Look, here, the line of the l is quite similar. The a also looks suspiciously like hers. She may have copied the words from letters from Harold, but she cannot entirely disguise her own penmanship.” Jane continued to study the letters intently. “The h. There’s an extra tail on the top. Just like hers.”

Lucy peered over Jane’s shoulder. “So you do think it’s a forgery?”

Jane lifted her gaze and pushed up her spectacles. “Yes. She forged this letter.”

Lucy pressed her lips together and crossed her arms over her chest. “That evil minx. How dare she try to play on my poor cousin’s sense of guilt?”

“Your cousin can take care of himself,” Jane replied. “But I refuse to allow her to get away with this.” Jane stood and straightened her shoulders. “I intend to do something about it.”

“What are you going to do, Jane?” Lucy asked.

“I’m going to confront Medusa. And make her eat this letter.” She waved the fake letter in the air.

“And then?” Lucy prodded.

“Then I’m going to ask your cousin to marry me.”

Lucy’s mouth fell open. “Do you mean it?”

Jane nodded slowly and took a deep breath. “Yes. Marriage has always frightened me. I never wanted to answer to a man. But Garrett is my equal. He’ll be my partner. He’s always treated me with kindness and respect. I don’t fear marriage any longer, Lucy. I covet it. How do you like that?”

Lucy’s eyes shimmered with tears. “Oh, Janie. I’m so happy for you.”

Jane shot Lucy an impudent look over her shoulder. “First, I need you to help me with the scheme to end all schemes, Your Boldness. It will solve the problem with my mother, my scandal, and Isabella Langford all at once.” She waved the fake letter again. “I’m going to need this, and we’re going to need Derek’s help with something. Something big!”

Chapter 46

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

“I must say I’m surprised you would come here, Miss Lowndes.” Isabella Langford strutted across her purple silk drawing room toward Jane. The room was nearly as garish as the woman herself, with opulent oil paintings and huge palm trees in pots in all four corners. No accounting for taste.

Jane had waited in the salon on Charles Street for the better part of an hour before the woman finally deigned to grace her with her company.

Jane straightened her back to compete with Isabella’s haughty stature. “Why are you surprised, Mrs. Langford? You haven’t known me to back down from a fight before today, have you?”

Isabella shrugged one shoulder. “If you’re here to threaten me about—”