Her One True Love by Rachel Brimble

Mrs. Wrexford. “I am a gentleman, but not gentlemanly enough that I won’t say this. If you do not find a way to curb your clear need for malicious gossip, you may well find you lack support in the many intelligent and resourceful women who could support you in your cause.”
    Mrs. Wexford lifted her chin. “Do you presume to tell me and my associates how to deal with women’s issues, Squire Cleaves?”
    â€œNot at all. I presume to tell you that your attitude could well hold the views and respect of women in stagnant waters if you continue to muddy them with misplaced words and intentions.” He looked to Jane and held out his arm to her. “Shall we?”
    The coolness of her gaze and the absence of her smile alerted him to the chance that something else, other than staunch support, had been behind her dressing-down of Mrs. Wrexford.
    She slid her hand into the crook of his arm and turned to the table. “I thank you, ladies, for making my second day in the city such a disappointing one. Good afternoon.”
    The unwelcome feeling that he’d never truly known the woman on his arm swept through Matthew as he covered Jane’s hand. He’d sensed a subtle change in her these past few months. A change he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but whatever it was, it made him more aware of her . . . he would even go as far as to say the change heightened the attraction he had always had for her.
    His heart picked up speed as he stared ahead, ignoring the curious stares of the diners. He glanced at Jane once more. She held her chin high and her body rigid when, for years, she had been relaxed, smiling, and never with a frown upon her pretty face. It was almost as though her infamous love and support of others had wavered, as though she had begun to doubt its purpose.
    She walked beside him so self-assured and proud. She was evolving into something bigger and better than she’d ever been before. So why did it make him feel ill at ease that he might be part of the reason behind the change in her? Why did the need to have her talk to him, confide in him, and reveal what she thought suddenly feel as vital as his next breath?
    If he was the catalyst for her change, did that mean one wrong thought, word, or action on his part would sever the ties already strained to breaking between them? The prospect made him grip her hand tighter, as though in doing so, she might stay with him awhile longer.

Chapter 7
    T he moment they were out of sight of the Pump Room, Jane pulled her hand from Matthew’s arm and gripped her reticule. His gait stiffened at her action, but they continued to walk through the city center side by side. Regret and euphoria mixed as Jane looked left and right, wondering the best place they could go to talk alone. He would undoubtedly ask her why she had leapt to his defense so vehemently when her behavior toward him had been less than amicable for weeks now.
    It had been impossible to stand by and allow Katy’s mother to harangue him that way. Worse, to do so in public. The woman was insufferable. Having met Mrs. Wrexford on several social occasions, Jane had noticed that Katy always seemed joined to her mother’s hip. Jane scowled. She could only hope and pray Katy did not end up as cold, unfeeling, and ungracious as her tyrannical mother.
    Monica had warned that, more often than not, their class of society in Bath cared about themselves and themselves only. Whatever Katy thought she might be working toward with her women’s group, Matthew’s insinuation of their female cattiness was valid. How would men ever look at women differently if so many of them continued to publicly demonstrate such stereotypical behavior?
    Anger pinched at Jane’s cheeks, despite the nervousness of her forthcoming conversation with Matthew. To suggest they return to her house would be preferable, but considering what she had to say, a place of neutrality would serve