Jane Bites Back

This is going to be just grand, Jane thought as she walked toward the two women. When she reached them, she smiled and held out her hand to the blond woman. “You must be Penelope,” she said.

Chiara gave a stifled laugh as the woman replied, “I’m Rebecca Little, the editor in chief of Romance magazine. I’m moderating the panel.”

“Oh,” said Jane, blushing. Not only had she offended Chiara earlier, she had now revealed that she didn’t know who either Rebecca Little or Penelope Wentz was. She was making a wonderful first impression, she thought.

“Penelope hasn’t arrived yet,” Rebecca said. “I’m actually surprised that she’s coming at all.”

Chiara made a sound of agreement. Jane resisted saying anything, lest she appear even more ignorant, but she couldn’t resist. “Why is that?” she asked.

“Well, nobody’s ever seen her,” Chiara said, as if this was common knowledge and Jane had once again failed a simple test.

“She doesn’t put any author photos on her books, she does all of her interviews by email, and she’s never come to any of the conferences,” Rebecca explained. “I’ve been trying to get her for years. I have no idea what made her change her mind this year, but I’m so glad she did. Her identity is one of the big mysteries of the genre.” She nodded at the audience. “That’s why it’s so packed.” She patted Chiara’s arm. “And of course because they want to see you,” she added.

Chiara smiled demurely. “And Jane,” she said.

“Of course,” said Rebecca. “And Jane.”

Jane wished Sally Higgins-Smythe were there. At least she likes me, she thought. These two would just as soon push me off a cliff. For a moment she wondered if perhaps Charlotte had somehow told them about her supposed theft of her own manuscript. Perhaps the panel was even an elaborate setup, and she was going to be exposed.

You’re just being paranoid, she told herself. Everything is going to be fine.

“Excuse me.”

As soon as she heard the deep voice, she knew it was not going to be fine after all. Jane turned to see Byron standing behind her. He was dressed in jeans, a black leather coat, and a white shirt open at the neck to expose a triangle of pale skin. He had grown a goatee, and if she hadn’t known him so well, she almost wouldn’t have recognized him.

“What are you doing—” she began.

He ignored her, extending his hand to Rebecca. “You must be Rebecca,” he said in his most charming voice. He smiled, showing his white teeth. “I’m Penelope Wentz.”

Chapter 28

“Can you honestly say you haven’t thought of me?” Jonathan asked, taking her hand. “Have you not missed our conversations? Have you not missed my kiss?” She looked into his face, trying to say that she had not, but the words died in her mouth.

—Jane Austen, Constance, manuscript

Rebecca could do little but stare at Byron. Chiara did the same. Jane, although she was more than a little annoyed, could hardly blame them. He was handsome, even more so with the addition of the goatee. It hid his chin, which Jane had never found to be his best feature.

“You?” Rebecca said when she finally regained her voice. “You’re Penelope Wentz?” She giggled and looked around, as if surely someone must be playing a joke on her. Then she looked at Chiara, who continued to stare at Byron, completely speechless.

“I know this must come as a bit of a surprise,” Byron said smoothly. “But I assure you that I am indeed she.” He then turned to Jane and pretended to see her for the first time. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” he said, extending his hand. “I’m Tavish Osborn.”

Jane gave him a look that said she didn’t think this latest caper of his was at all funny. “Jane Fairfax,” she said.

Byron stepped back. “Jane Fairfax!” he exclaimed. “The author of Constance.”

“That would be I,” said Jane without enthusiasm.

Byron turned to Rebecca and Chiara. “Have you read her book?” he asked. “In my opinion, it’s the finest romance to come out in the past century. Er, decade.”

“Aren’t you kind,” said Jane as Rebecca and Chiara exchanged puzzled glances.

Finally Chiara cleared her throat. “Pardon my surprise,” she said to Byron. “I—we—” She looked at Rebecca, who nodded. “We assumed you were a woman.”

Byron laughed lightly. “I can understand why,” he replied. Then he fixed Chiara with one of his most sensual looks. “But I promise you that I’m very much a man.”

Chiara blushed as Jane caught Byron’s eye. “Oh, please,” she mouthed at him. He grinned and winked.

“Well, this is certainly going to be a huge revelation!” Rebecca said. “Honestly, I don’t know what to think.” She looked Byron up and down. “You. Penelope Wentz.” She giggled again.

Byron looked at his watch. “I believe it’s just about time to begin,” he said.

“Of course,” Rebecca said, shaking her head as if she’d been dreaming and needed to wake up. “Why don’t we take our seats?”

The four of them ascended the platform. Chiara took the first chair, and Jane took the one farthest from her. She was relieved when she saw Rebecca start to take the seat beside her. Then Byron stepped between them.

“Would you mind?” he asked Rebecca.

Rebecca shot Jane a disapproving look. “Not at all,” she said flatly. Jane saw Chiara crane her neck around to see what was happening and frown when she saw where Byron had chosen to sit. She assumed he would sit between her and Rebecca, she thought. That way they could both pretend, he wanted to be near them.

“Penelope Wentz?” Jane said in a low voice when Byron was seated. “I suppose you killed the real one.”

“Not at all,” Byron replied. “I am indeed Penelope Wentz.” He raised one eyebrow. “I am, after all, the most romantic man in the world.”

Jane snorted. “I can’t believe you,” she said, shaking her head. “You promised to stay away.”

Byron held up one finger. “But I also said that I would be back one day.”

“That was three months ago!” Jane said. “I’d hardly call that a suitable intermission.”

“Welcome to this morning’s panel.” Rebecca’s announcement prevented any further discussion between Jane and Byron. Jane sat back in her chair and tried very hard not to look at him.

“We’re thrilled to have with us today some of the most exciting names in romance fiction,” she continued. “You all know Chiara Carrington, author of such novels as Whichever Way the Wind Blows and The Gift of Love.”

She paused to allow the audience to applaud. “And we’re pleased to introduce Jane Fairfax, whose novel Constance is making big waves in the book world.”

Jane noted with some disappointment that the applause for her was less enthusiastic than the response Chiara had received. Beside her, however, Byron clapped loudly. She resisted an urge to kick him under the table.

Rebecca took an audible breath. “I’m sure that many of you are here because you want to see the face behind the Penelope Wentz novels,” she said.

A murmur passed through the crowd, and several people clapped.

“Well, I think you’ll be as surprised as I was to meet her for the first time.” There was a dramatic pause. “Or