Mrs. Langford nearly snarled at her. “Let’s talk about something else, shall we? Such as the parties in London. I, for one, cannot wait for the Season to get under way. Are you going to the Hathaways’ ball, Mr. Upton?”

Upton glanced at Jane before he replied to Mrs. Langford. “I am.”

Jane pressed her lips together. The thought of those two together, in London, being good-looking and drinking champagne and dancing and laughing and— It made her positively …

By God, was she actually getting … jealous?

No. It was not possible. Horrifying thought.

“Will you be in London for the Season, Miss Lowndes?” Mrs. Langford asked.

“Not if I can help it,” Jane replied, her book back in front of her nose.

“Is that supposed to be funny?” Mrs. Langford replied, her voice taking on an irritated edge.

“It was supposed to be,” Jane replied. “Though perhaps not to you.”

Mrs. Langford replied with a grunt. “I’ve found that people who think themselves intelligent also tend to think themselves funny.”

“What do unintelligent, unfunny people think of themselves?” Jane asked, lowering the book to face the widow as if extremely interested in the answer. “Do tell.”

“We ought to be getting back,” Upton interjected. “It looks as if a storm might be coming up and the others seem to be heading in.”

Jane turned her attention to the sky. She’d been so involved in her battle of words with Mrs. Langford she’d failed to notice the dark clouds moving in. They were indeed gathering over the lake in an ominous gray mass. The other boats were quickly rowing toward the shore.

“Too bad,” Mrs. Langford said with a pout on her lips.

Yes, too bad the widow wouldn’t be able to spend the rest of the afternoon sniping at her in the boat.

Upton rowed quickly to shore. The small boat skimmed along the water until it hit land. Upton stood, braced one foot against the muddy shore, and then leaned down and dragged the boat a bit closer to the grass before turning to help Jane disembark first.

Jane allowed him to take her hand and help her to stand on the grass. “Be careful,” she said, motioning with her chin back toward the boat and Mrs. Langford. “I’m convinced she bites.”

Upton slipped her a wry grin.

Jane turned back to watch Mrs. Langford. The lady had already stood and was teetering precariously as the boat lurched from side to side. “Be careful,” Upton called. “Let me help you.” He lunged for her but was too late. Mrs. Langford, tiny hat and gown and all, plunged over the side of the rowboat into the shallow mud and water.

“Goodness me!” she exclaimed, and from the tone of her voice, Jane knew the widow had done it on purpose.

Lucy and Cass hurried over. Derek and Julian and the others were seeing to the boats.