Page 76 of Lord Garson's Bride
Another silence fell. In an agony of awkwardness, Jane waited for the couple to go back inside. She was cold and wretched, andshe wanted to get away from Hugh, before he guessed quite how rattled she was. Amidst the ballroom’s bustle, she might have a chance of hiding her unhappiness.
“Time to do the pretty, my love,” Lord Frame said. “May I have this dance?”
“What’s left of it.”
“I think they’ve gone,” Hugh whispered after a minute or so.
When he placed his hands on Jane’s waist, she struggled not to stiffen. She had no right to resent her husband’s love for another woman, especially when he’d given her so much over the last days. Sensual pleasure. Companionship. The beginnings of a contentment she’d never expected.
He’d given her too much. If he hadn’t encouraged such physical and emotional intimacy, she wouldn’t at this moment feel like drowning herself in one of the Oldhams’ fountains.
“Shall we take up where we left off?”
She gave him credit for sounding almost normal. But she couldn’t forget how he’d frozen in her arms at the mention of his beloved. What a woman Morwenna Nash must be, Jane thought with uncharacteristic spite. Clearly once she sank her claws into a man, he never broke free.
And she, too, had to try and sound as if nothing important had happened. As in any real sense, it hadn’t. The whole world, including Jane, knew her husband loved Morwenna. She might have briefly forgotten that salient fact, but she and Hugh remained bound together until death did them part.
“We’ve been outside long enough.” She struggled to smooth the edge off her tone. “This isn’t the weather for an al fresco tryst. Lovely as it was.” She just about choked on the last four words, although the sad truth was it had been lovely. Up to a point.
“I’m sorry, Jane. Of course I’ll take you inside. You’re so cold, you’re shaking.”
It wasn’t the air that made her shake, but she went along with the lie. “I’ll meet you back here in June.”
“That’s a deal.” He leaned in, clearly intending to kiss her.
Despite all her stern words to herself, she tensed. How could she bear to feel his lips on hers, when his heart remained chock full of another woman? She told herself she would come to terms with this. She must.
But she needed a little time.
At the last minute, she turned her head so his kiss glanced across her cheek.
She hoped he wouldn’t notice, or if he did, he’d think the evasion was accidental. But she felt him go as still as a stone, then slowly straighten.
“Let’s get you into the ballroom before you turn into an icicle.” He sounded like the polite man who had proposed to her, not like the passionate lover who shared her bed with such enthusiasm.
Jane told herself that was a good thing. She could maintain some emotional distance from the first man. It was so much more difficult to maintain any detachment from the second one. She’d just had a salutary reminder that if she didn’t keep a corner of her soul for herself, she headed for devastation.
“I’ll warm up, once I’m dancing again,” she said, her voice heavy with unshed tears. She shouldn’t resent Lady Frame’s pity, but she did, how she did. Especially when the woman had only spoken the unpalatable truth.
Hugh took her arm. “Don’t forget you promised me the next waltz.”
“I can hardly wait.” Although right now, pretending to the world—and Hugh—that she was in alt to be his partner seemed an impossible goal.
They crossed the terrace toward the ballroom. Supper must have started. She couldn’t hear any music, and the ballroom onlycontained a few people, compared to the vociferous multitudes earlier.
As she was about to step inside, Hugh drew her back.
“What is it?” she asked, feeling likely to shatter, but still battling to behave like the carefree creature who had sneaked out into the moonlight to steal a few kisses.
He looked deadly serious, his dark eyes searching. He didn’t look like the lighthearted man who had swept her into his arms half an hour ago either. “I meant it when I said you make me happy.”
She tightened her throat against a sob. This was her night. The new Lady Garson had triumphed, however crushed vulnerable Jane Rutherford might feel. She couldn’t face his friends with tears in her eyes. There had already been more than enough gossip about her husband and his romantic entanglements. And the thought of anyone else saying they felt sorry for her made her want to retch.
It took her a moment to remember she still had the right to touch him. She raised a tentative hand to his cheek and dredged up what she prayed was a reassuring smile. His skin was warm through her delicate satin glove.
“Thank you, Hugh.” She guessed he was waiting for her to proclaim a reciprocal happiness, but the words jammed unspoken in her throat.
He placed his hand over hers and pressed it into his face. “You do make me happy.”
