Page 104 of Lord Garson's Bride
He stalked away without a backward glance, even as a small voice in the corner of his mind whispered that he’d just made the biggest mistake of his life.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
On his long ride back to London, Garson hardly registered a single mile or the inns where he stopped to change horses. All he saw was Jane’s pale, shocked features as he delivered his ultimatum. An ultimatum that could result in never seeing her again.
Brilliant move, old man.
After a day and a half in the saddle, it was well after midnight when he stamped back into the house at Half Moon Street. Despite his aching exhaustion, he spent the rest of the night sitting in his library and gazing into the dark abyss of his future. He chose the brandy decanter for company, but barely touched the one glass he poured. As eyes scratchy with tiredness watched the dawn come up over London, he asked himself two questions.
How had everything gone so bloody wrong?
And was there any way to fix this damned mess?
As the day brightened into morning, he found no answers, but he finally admitted something that had been staring him in the face for weeks. He needed to swallow the few remnants of his pride and ask for help.
Garson staggered to his feet, painfully stiff after the arduous ride and hours in a chair. Still wearing shirt and breeches, he tumbled into bed and crashed into a dreamless sleep.
* * *
That afternoon, Garson knocked at Silas’s shiny black door in Grosvenor Square. Silas had tried to offer advice before, but Garson had been too stubborn to listen. He was ready to listen now, if his friend was willing to help him after his recent behavior had soured relations with the Nashes and their circle.
Given the way Garson’s last visit to the Beeches had gone, optimism seemed like folly. But even if Silas offered a fresh perspective on the quandary, it would help. He wasn’t expecting much more. Silas would need to be a miracle worker to fix the gargantuan problems in this marriage.
The butler opened the door. “Good afternoon, my lord.”
“Good afternoon, Hunter. I’d like to see Lord Stone.”
“His lordship has taken her ladyship and the children to the park.”
Garson was so keyed up that this information sent his heart plummeting to his toes. “Oh.”
Hunter smiled. “But I suspect they won’t be long, as it’s about to rain.”
Was it? Garson had paid attention to nothing beyond his purpose. Now he glanced up at the sky and saw that the clear sunrise had deteriorated into heavy black clouds.
Hunter went on. “Would you like to wait?”
It seemed he must rein in his impatience. “Yes, please.”
Hunter showed him into the drawing room. As the storm blew in, the light worsened. Garson only realized he wasn’t alone when a tall, slender woman rose from a writing desk in the corner.
Hunter was surprised, too. “Mrs. Nash, I do beg your pardon. I assumed the room was empty. Lord Garson has called to see Lord Stone, but I’m sure he won’t mind waiting in the library.”
The butler’s voice seemed to reach him through deep water. Garson couldn’t shift his gaze from the woman who had haunted him for more than four years.
Even if he’d been warned about meeting her, he’d have struggled to hide his reaction. Caught unawares, he turned to stone: dumb, unmoving, monolithic. Through the furious blood pounding in his head, he watched her walk toward him, graceful and beautiful as ever.
“No need to send Lord Garson away, Hunter. We’re old friends. Perhaps you could bring tea and have the candles lit.”
Her soft voice caressed his ears like music. When she passed the window, he saw her more clearly. Clearer still as his stupor faded, and he remembered to take a breath. She was so exactly like his memory of her, the moment felt unreal. Vaguely he heard Hunter leave.
“Hugh?” Morwenna cast him a concerned glance. “You don’t mind keeping me company, do you?”
By God, he acted like an unmannerly lummox. He bowed and when she indicated for him to sit, he did. She took the chair opposite, her blue eyes regarding him with the solemn sincerity he’d always found irresistible.
After a humiliatingly long time, he even found the gumption to dredge out a few words. “Mrs. Nash, I didn’t know you were in Town.”
“Mrs. Nash?” She wrinkled her small, straight nose. “You used to call me Morwenna.”
