For one thing, it was clear to me from that very first morning that Lady Jane, underneath the stiff cottons, high collars, and monochromatic raiment, was a fine looking woman. She was slight of build, taller than most ladies, and moved with a grace that the best of her efforts could not conceal. The features of her face were fine and evenly proportioned, her cheekbones high, eyes large and the palest shade of blue, her lips full and yet capable of thinning at the slightest provocation. And yet… And yet, there was nothing about her that you actually noticed. Nothing which caused the slightest of pauses for thought, nothing that made you think for a fraction of a second that here was an attractive woman. Lady Jane could blend into her surroundings so effectively that you would be hard pressed to say for sure that a human being was present, let alone a potentially beautiful female. Miss Fotheringale was, however, entirely unconcerned with Lady Jane’s appearance as was made plain by her. On the way to the car, Sean asked where we were headed. It was probably too late to catch Francine before she headed home, but I asked anyway. No joy. That meant his place. I did not know how much money Sean had, but seriously well off was the low end. If nothing else, he would have a bigger bed, and I was in the mood for some acrobatics.Sean's house did not disappoint. The community was gated, and the houses were all multistory, with wings. He drove past the house to a garage with at least twenty stalls and almost a dozen cars. I could name most of them, but a couple stumped me. One was an exotic and the other was pre Model T. I decided I wanted to drive off in the Rolls Bentley, after the wedding. Still, it was just the garage, and I had a serious itch.Inside, the house was tastefully huge. Sean led me past the kitchen, at least one salon and a billiard room. He chose a room set up for reading. There were a number of bookshelves, though not enough to make it a library, Sean cued.
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