Her mother made a funny little hiccupping sound. “You won’t enjoy yourself. I know you won’t. I think I should come with you and—”

“No.” Jane could only hope she successfully kept the panic from her face. If Mama came to the house party, it would be a disaster. It was bad enough that she would be arriving at the end of the week for the wedding itself. “Of course I won’t enjoy myself, Mama. Not the party part, at least. I’m bringing a great many books and I intend to—”

Her mother tossed her hands into the air. “Books, books, books. That’s all the two of you ever talk about, ever think about.” She turned sideways and glared accusingly back and forth between her husband and her daughter.

Jane stepped forward and put a comforting arm around her mother’s shoulder. She felt a bit sorry for her. The poor woman hadn’t given birth to a daughter who loved people and parties and clothing and fripperies like she did. Instead she’d given birth to a girl who took after her intellectual father. A man who’d been knighted by the Crown for his genius at economics, having successfully invested a great deal of money for the royal family. Jane even looked like her father. Dark hair, dark eyes, round cheeks, round face. The slightly round backside may have been more due to her love of teacake than her father’s doing, but that hardly mattered. In all things important, Jane took after Sir Charles Lowndes.

“I’m sorry, Mama,” Jane murmured. She hugged her pretty mother. Hortense was sweet and kind and meant well. It was hardly her fault that she’d had the terrible misfortune to have a bluestocking for a daughter.

Hortense blinked at her. “Sorry for what?”

Jane let her arm fall away. “Sorry I spend my days reading Socrates instead of La Belle Assemblée, reading the political columns instead of shopping for fabric and fripperies with you, attending the theater instead of visiting with friends.”

Her mother’s shoulders drew up and then just as quickly relaxed. She worried the handkerchief in her hands. “Oh, Jane, if you’d only try.”

Jane sighed. She’d tried. Oh, how she’d tried. How many times had she wished she was petite and beautiful with good eyesight, someone who loved nothing better than to attend parties? It just wasn’t her, and it never would be. The sooner Mama accepted that fact and let go of her dream of Jane making a splendid match, the better the two would get on.

Her mother had left her no choice. Today’s little episode notwithstanding, Hortense had shown few signs of giving in. Hence, Jane was about to employ her secret weapon: one Lady Lucy Hunt, Jane’s closest friend. Lucy had promised Jane she would use her considerable talent with words to convince Lady Lowndes that Jane should be left in peace. Jane wanted nothing more than to live out her days reading, studying, lobbying for the rights of women, and hosting the occasional intellectual salon. She wanted to be free, to no longer be forced to attend an endless round of social events that made her feel anything but social.