Lord Wraybourne's Betrothed by Jo Beverley Page B

believed she was being quite subtle until he handed her down at Marlborough Square.
    He held her hand and said, with a slight smile, “Whatever it is you want, Jane, it would doubtless be easier if you just asked me.”
    This had the effect of rendering her speechless, and she hurried into the house so fast she appeared to be in flight.
    “Whatever are you about, David?” asked his sister in surprise. “I would have thought you a little more skillful. You appear to be constantly casting poor Jane into a panic.”
    “Dear Sophie, you know nothing of the matter,” replied her brother amiably.
    “You look odiously self-satisfied. If you are mean to Jane you will have me to deal with. She is my friend.”
    He gave her a very warm smile. “Excellent. I hope you will look out for her. Everything here is new and since Jane won a victory and I am no longer allowed to tease her with compliments, you have no need to worry about me. I am a toothless lion.”
    Sophie shook her head. “You are an idiot. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were in love.” With that she swept into the house and went to seek out Jane.
    She found her friend had forgotten any distress over her betrothed and was staring helplessly at a huge mound of packages on her bed. After visiting the modiste earlier in the day the three ladies had stopped in at Layton and Shears for some trimmings and at Mills Haberdashers for other necessities such as silk stockings and gloves. Jane knew she had bought a number of items and remembered the attendant footman had had to make many trips back to the carriage with their purchases, but surely not as many as this.
    “What am I to do with all this, Sophie?”
    “Open them.” Sophie poked at the pile. “Some of these are mine, I think.” Decisively she rang the bell and when Prudence arrived she was given the task of opening the parcels while the young ladies made their judgment.
    “Those silk stockings were mine, Jane. I remember the clocks. Are they not delightful? Bronze flowers! Are those yours?”
    “Yes, Madame Danielle said I should wear bronze but I’m not sure I like them anymore.”
    “Positively gothic,” was Sophie’s comment. “I cannot imagine why anyone would wear metal flowers except gold or silver. Give them to Prudence.”
    Jane was pleased with her purchase of plain silk stockings, the first she had ever had, and some artificial cherries, which were all the rage, but found six pairs of plain cotton stockings for everyday wear to be too coarse, so Prudence was given those too. When the maid left, she was piled high with items: string mittens that were too short in the fingers, ivy leaves that Sophie declared would make her look like an ancient monument, braid that was quite hideous, lace that did not, after all, match Sophie’s green Pyrenean mantle, and a reticule which had probably been purchased by Lady Harroving. Sophie gave it to the maid anyway, saying it was ugly and Maria needed to be protected from herself.
    At this rate, thought the maid as she staggered away under her load, she would be able to retire and open a haberdashery shop of her own.
    Jane, meanwhile, was full of guilt. “How terrible. All that money wasted.”
    “Nonsense. Prudence will make good use of those things.”
    “But my parents did not provide money for the ornamentation of Prudence Hawkins. My mother would have an apoplexy if she knew. I cannot imagine how I came to buy so much. It is as if a madness overtook me.”
    “Yes,” said Sophie happily. “It is always the same when shopping. And what else is money for?”
    No wonder Lord Wraybourne needed to marry a fortune. Jane’s upbringing warred with her new delight in frivolity and, by a mere margin, upbringing won.
    “I will not behave so again,” she resolved. “If I have money to spare, I will give it to a worthy cause.”
    “Good Lord, Jane, if you are to turn Methodish on me I shall cut your acquaintance. Think of poor Prudence. She will have