He tried to concentrate on chewing and swallowing his food. Somehow that had become a difficult task. It was a mad, mad day already. Why was Isabella being so unpleasant to Jane? At first, he suspected Isabella had been as bothered by Jane as he always had been. Jane didn’t back down from a fight and Isabella had got a taste of Jane’s sharp tongue. But he couldn’t help feeling admiration for Jane when she stood up to Isabella. It truly was none of the other woman’s concern why Jane preferred to remain unmarried. He’d always had the same preference, and felt a sort of closeness with her. He needn’t have worried. Jane had promptly snapped back a volley of replies that had surely left Isabella thinking she just might do better to keep from engaging Miss Lowndes in a battle of words in the future.

He’d been in his share of word fights with her, himself, and often came out on the losing end. He smiled to himself and looked at her once more. She turned to speak with Owen Monroe, who happened to be sitting next to her again. She didn’t notice Garrett’s slow perusal of her. Today she was wearing a white gown that did nothing for her considerable assets. It was the type of thing she normally wore. Where in God’s name had she got that blue gown she’d been wearing last night? It had transformed her.

Garrett took a long sip from his wine glass and watched her over its rim. He growled under his breath. Owen Monroe was sitting a bit too close.

Chapter 19

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Garrett was sitting alone in the library, reading, with his booted feet propped on an ottoman and crossed at the ankles when Cassandra found him that evening just before dinner. There was to be a dinner and a dance—not a ball, Lucy had insisted, just a dance. Garrett looked forward to neither.

“Garrett, there you are. This is the last place I expected to find you,” Cassandra said, a bright smile on her face. Her blond hair was swept up atop her head and she wore a fetching lavender gown with pearls at her neck.

Garrett quickly uncrossed his feet, stood, and bowed. “Don’t tell Miss Lowndes. It may ruin the bad opinion she has of me and my lack of reading habits.”

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” Cassandra said in a conspiratorial voice.

“Agreed,” he answered.

Cassandra made her way to him and sat on the settee across from him.

“It’s interesting that you bring up Jane, however”—Cassandra plucked at her sleeve—“because that’s precisely who I wanted to speak with you about.”

Garrett’s gaze snapped to her face. “Jane?”

“Yes.” Cassandra calmly folded her small hands and placed them in her lap.

“What about her?”