Page 79 of Sinful Persuasion of a Lady in the Making
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Jenny sat alone in her room, running a comb through her hair and watching herself in the looking glass. She had sent Fanny away, not wanting the company, and was placing her hairpins in herself.
She hoped more than anything that Sebastian was right, that this business with the letter would simply disappear by itself, but she knew in her heart that it wouldn’t. And when Fanny knocked on the door, telling her a letter had arrived for her, she felt her heart in her throat.
“Come in,” she called, and Fanny entered with the letter.
“Same errand boy,” Fanny said brightly. “But this time it’s addressed to you directly. They must have forgotten last time.”
“Thank you, Fanny,” she said. “Please leave it on the dressing table.”
“Is it a love letter, Miss?” Fanny asked, a mischievous grin on her face. “I’ve always wanted one of those.”
“Yes,” Jenny said, cleared her throat as she spoke. She smiled weakly, forcing her eyes from the folded paper in front of her and up to Fanny’s. “Yes, that’s it. A love letter.”
“You’re so lucky, Miss Jones,” Fanny said, swinging from side to side, her hands clasped beneath her chin. “Really you are. That Lord Hartwood is certainly swoon-worthy.”
“Indeed,” Jenny said, trying not to show her panic or her fear. “Fanny, would you mind giving me a little privacy, please? It’s just… I have a headache, and—”
“Oh yes,” Fanny said, standing straight and serious. “Sorry, of course.” She curtsied and left the room.
Jenny finished pinning up her hair before she picked up the letter, but the whole while she did not take her eyes from it, pinning from memory rather than from the looking glass. When she finally finished, she gulped back her terror, picked it up, and slid her finger beneath the seal.
Dear Miss Jones,
You must put an end to your betrothal immediately. I warned you in my last letter that you and your family will get your comeuppance for your behavior. You do not belong to this world, and you know it. A marriage between a nobleman and the daughter of an lady of the night could never work. You are and you always will be beneath him. Stop it now before anyone gets hurt, or I will have to take matters into my own hands.
A Friend
Jenny whimpered, unable to stop herself, and her eyes welled up with tears. They were tears of sadness, certainly, and of fear. But more than that. They were tears of anger and rage that someone would dare do this to her. Everything had been against her since the day she was born, she had been fighting her whole life.
She went over to the settee that lined the wall, where Gulliver was curled into the tightest little ball and snoring gently. She picked him, not caring if she woke him, and she held him tight in her arms.
“Oh Gulliver,” she whispered, his soft ear brushing her lips. “What am I going to do?”
The dog, still slow with sleep, raised its head and gently licked at her cheek. She chuckled, nuzzling into him.
“You are the most wonderful little thing, do you know that?” She lifted him so that their faces met, their noses almost touching. “I am going to change my fate, Gulliver. I am going to make my life better, and I am going to do it with the man I love.”
The dog licked her again, an encouraging response, and she continued, the confidence in her voice growing.
“I am going to do that, no matter what these letters say,” she said. “And I am not going to let some anonymous scoundrel stop me.”
Gulliver, tired of being fussed over, wriggled out of her arms and curled up once more on the couch beside her. She sighed and picked the letter up again. Although she felt the truth of what she had said to Gulliver more than she felt the truth of anything at all, she could not stop the worry tickling at the back of her mind.
“Knock, knock,” Alison said with a smile, opening the door without actually knocking.
Jenny gasped and quickly thrust the letter beneath the cushion on the couch, terrified that Alison would hear the loud crinkling of the paper and demand to know what was going on.
“Are you all right?” Alison asked, stepping into the room completely. “You look a little flustered.”
“Do I?” Jenny asked, feigning innocence and a warm smile. “Perhaps I’ve just got too used to having Fanny do my hair for me. I’d quite forgotten how many pins it took to hold the lot up.”
“You do have an awful lot of hair,” Alison said with a chuckle.
“Do I?” Jenny asked again, surprised by Alison’s words. “I always thought I had a normal amount of hair.”
“You have very beautiful hair,” Alison reassured her. “Don’t listen to my nonsense. That’s not why I came here, anyway. I wanted to ask you if you fancied spending some time in the garden?”
