Page 65 of Her Rake Fiancé

“I remind you,” said Richard, “that we do not know for sure that’s what happened. The witness assumed.”

“It’s a bloody good assumption,” said Preston as he marched to the sideboard and poured a glass of brandy. Then he went to the sofa and handed it to Grandmama.

She accepted it and took a sip. “No, it is not a good assumption,” said Grandmama, and Penelope nodded as she let her hand go, probably seeing she was feeling better. “There’s no evidence. Why would anyone press-gang Spencer if they weren’t his enemy?”

There was a silence, and everyone looked at Penelope, who bit her lip and blinked several times.

“Could it have been your papa?” asked Calliope carefully.

“I don’t think so.”

Preston cocked his head. “Lord Beckett only wanted Spencer to have a black eye for a week or so. It was only a few weeks ago that he found out Spencer was not killed by Blackmore’s men.”

“So what do we do now?” asked Grandmama.

Calliope jumped to her feet again and paced the room. “We go to the Admiralty, and we ask them for information,” she stated. “There must be lists of men that were conscripted into the navy, and he must be among them. We find out which ship, the destination. We write letters…ask for the news from the fronts.”

“Calliope,” said Richard softly. “This is not just another fictional mystery in a book. This is serious.”

“I know that perfectly well, brother,” she said coldly as she stopped in the middle of the room.

“Richard’s right. Let me and Richard deal with this,” said Preston. “Do not intervene.”

“I will not sit back,” Calliope said. “It’s Spencer! We now know more than before. There is something we can do to find out where he is, to help him, to recover him!”

Richard sighed. “We will, but I think Preston’s right, Calliope. I know you can’t wait for Spencer to return. I know he’s always been your favorite brother. But let me and Preston do this.”

She scoffed. “In other words, let the men do their thing. Let the weak and gentle women sit back and watch.” She shook her head. “How typical of you two. At least Spencer would have never told me to do that. He’d just ask me, ‘When shall we go?’”

“Calliope…” said Richard gently. “We just want you to be safe, that’s all.”

“I will not sit back and quietly watch you.”

Grandmama smiled at her and at Penelope. “You will not, my dear. And neither will I.”

The door opened, and Teanby came in, perfectly collected as always, with his head high and his shoulders squared.

“Miss Jane Grant.”

He opened the door for Jane to come in, and Richard’s world grew brighter. She beamed, dressed in something Mrs. Newman must have made for her—something airy and white that made her look radiant, her gray eyes sparkling like diamonds as they locked with his.

“As agreed, I came for the fitting for tonight,” she said. “Mrs. Newman is just coming up.”

Richard nodded to her, his whole being coming alive with her presence in the room. He had to do everything he could tonight to convince her to follow through with the wedding.

* * *

Calliope’s room was warm and, with the windows open, full of the scents of lilacs and wildflowers. It was dark outside—they’d had dinner already as the fitting had taken the entire afternoon.

But now, with the help of Calliope’s maid, Abigail, both Jane and Calliope were ready…almost. Calliope leaned against the dressing table in her yellow ball gown, thoughtfully fidgeting with the edge of her elbow-length glove, staring into space. Jane sat looking at herself in the mirror, unable to quite believe this was, indeed, her.

The gown, a silvery-pink masterpiece that Mrs. Newman had worked on yesterday, was like something ethereal. Her glasses removed, she could see only herself if she squinted. But with the help of Abigail, she now had one of the most sophisticated and fashionable hairstyles, with her hair high up on top of her head and soft curls framing both sides of her face. A few curled locks of hair were swept forward over one shoulder, making her look like a finished painting of a princess rather than a sketch of a peasant.

Jane wore a delicate diamond necklace, a present Thorne had given her just before the ball that would have been her coming out event in the ton…if she hadn’t been cruelly turned away. The diamonds were small, no doubt just a fraction of something Calliope, Emma, or Penelope would wear, but every one of them sparkled with her brother’s love, which she felt every day.

Mrs. Newman and her seamstresses were long gone, and as Abigail made her final touches to Jane’s hair, Calliope shook her head and said, “I still cannot believe how Richard and Preston boss me around. Command me. I won’t let them stop me.”

“Did they?” asked Jane as Abigail inserted a rose made of silvery-pink silk into the side of Jane’s bun.