Page 77 of Lord Garson's Bride
His tone sounded as if he countered some argument, when she hadn’t said a word to disagree. In its way, what he said was probably even true. He’d certainly enjoyed her body, and she couldn’t mistake his pride in her tonight.
He waited for a response, but she remained silent, staring up at him as if she’d never seen him before.
In a way, she hadn’t. Odd how those moments in the darkness had forced her to take a clear view of her situation at last. She swiftly slid her hand away from his face and buried it in her skirts.
“Shall we go down to supper?” he asked, his gaze still concerned.
“Yes,” she said, wishing her answer wasn’t a muffled croak. She turned away, before he read too much in her face. A fortnight of marriage had taught her to beware his powers of perception.
He offered his arm, and they went inside the ballroom. Jane squared her shoulders. So what if people were talking about her husband’s devotion to another woman? Nothing new in that.
But something had changed. Something momentous.
Because this evening, Jane had done more than act like a giddy girl in love, silly as that might be. When she’d listened to the Frames talking about her, she’d soon realized that she’d gone disastrously past what she’d promised her husband when she married him.
God help her, no acting was involved anymore. The giddy girl had fallen in love with a man who would never love her back.
And she didn’t know how she could endure it.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
It somehow made matters worse that the first people Jane saw in the supper room were Susan and Frederick. She’d caught a glimpse of her sister through the crush earlier and meant to seek her out, but her procession of eager partners had kept her busy since then.
Jane didn’t want to deal with her sister right now. Susan had a bad habit of saying “I told you so.” The fact that she’d predicted unhappiness for this marriage made her a far from ideal companion tonight.
But the room was crowded, and Susan and Frederick’s table had two spare seats. Jane gestured toward the corner. “Susan’s over there, and she has space.”
She glimpsed Anthony signaling for them to squeeze in on a table with him and Fenella, but Susan had caught her eye now and it was too late.
“Whatever she says to you, don’t listen. You’ve made a splash, and you’ll be the talk of the Town tomorrow,” Hugh said under his breath, as he approached his new in-laws with a reluctance Jane hoped was visible only to her. “I’ll wager she’s pea green with envy that her mousy little sister has turned into a peacock. She’ll tell you your dress is too daring, and your hair is too wild, and you’re a shame to the Norrises.”
Jane had a sinking feeling he was right. Susan had always reserved the older sister’s privilege to criticize the younger. As they approached, Frederick stood with every appearance of pleasure on his unremarkable face. She’d always liked her sister’s husband, although his good nature meant Susan and her horrid children bullied him unmercifully.
“I wasn’t a mouse,” she said, more for form’s sake than because she meant it.
“Not for the want of trying,” Hugh muttered, before he turned to Frederick with what she’d come to think of as his social smile. It went no deeper than the surface of his eyes, whereas when he really smiled, he revealed every inch of his generous soul.
“Good evening, Bacon. Nice crowd here.” He bowed to Susan. “Susan, you’re looking a picture.”
Susan simpered at him from where she sat in the corner. “Thank you, Hugh. Are you and Janie planning to stay in Town? I thought you were going to Derbyshire.”
Jane had learned enough of fashion, even in the short time she’d spent with the Dashing Widows as her guides, to recognize that while her sister’s rose sarsenet gown was becoming, it lacked the extra touch that lent Helena’s clothes such panache. The same touch Madame Lisette had given to the dresses Jane had ordered from her.
“Plans change,” Hugh said evenly. “I thought Jane might enjoy some society, after so long at Cavell Court doing her family duty.”
A puzzled frown crossed Susan’s face, as if she wasn’t sure whether he reprimanded her. Jane, who knew very well he did, kissed her sister’s cheek, getting a lungful of gardenia scent for her trouble. “Good evening, Susan. How are the children?”
Luckily that launched a good twenty minutes of monologue. Lucy apparently promised to be the belle of the season, even if a head cold kept her from tonight’s ball. A litany of her niece’sconquests kept sisterly advice at bay long enough for Jane to dig deep into her courage and find the poise her pride insisted upon.
Susan’s voice formed a background to her turbulent thoughts. She was in love with her husband. She’d been in love with him since their days in Salisbury. But she’d been too inexperienced to understand that in awakening her passions, Hugh had also captured her heart.
What a fool she was to assume she could resist him. How could he fail to win her love? He was everything she admired. Good. Considerate. Understanding. Ardent. Intelligent. Strong. It would be a miracle, if she hadn’t tumbled head over heels in love with him.
Hugh was the perfect man for her. Except for one glaring flaw. He was in love with another woman. She could almost commend his steadfast loyalty to his beloved.
Almost.
But she wasn’t that much of a saint. Morwenna must be a paragon. The woman had to be special to earn the unswerving devotion of such an exceptional man as Hugh Rutherford. But right now, Jane would love to claw out Morwenna’s no doubt sparkling eyes and tell her to let Hugh go, so he could love again.
