Page 81 of Lord Garson's Bride
The wise husband would not pry. Especially when his attempts to help had so far met with nothing but unconvincing denials of any trouble.
“I’m sorry that a few unpleasant moments spoiled your evening,” he said as they went upstairs. She held his arm, walking in step with him so their hips brushed. Why did he still feel she was on the other side of the world?
“Don’t be silly, Hugh. It was beyond my wildest dreams.” She sounded so bright, he winced as if he stared into the sun.
But the wise husband knew that he’d get no answer as to why his lovely wife seemed brittle enough to shatter, after the night when society had fallen at her feet.
* * *
“Will that be all, my lady?” Peggy asked, collecting Jane’s extravagant red gown from the bed and folding it over her arm. She’d already locked away the jewels. “Or would you like me to stay and brush out your hair?”
Jane met her glassy gray eyes in her mirror and prayed that the girl left quickly. Maintaining the illusion that she was on top of the world had given her a pounding headache. “No, I’ll do that. You find your bed. I’m sorry I kept you up so late.”
The girl looked startled, before she resumed the demeanor of the perfect servant. “Lud, my lady, that’s what a lady’s maid does.”
Jane made herself smile. “Perhaps, but I appreciate it. I suspect there will be many more late nights to come.”
Peggy sent her a proper smile, and the Irish accent she tried to suppress tinged her answer. “I don’t mind at all. It’s a privilegeserving such a nice lady—and one who promises to become the toast of London. On my day off, I can lord it over the other girls.”
“That’s splendid.” Jane summoned a smile. “Good night, Peggy.”
The girl curtsied and left the toast of London to stare into her reflection and wish with a fervor only bolstered by its futility, that she was in Sidmouth with her old governess. She’d trade every one of tonight’s extravagant compliments to be looking forward to nothing more exciting than a walk by the seaside.
As Hugh came through the door connecting the baroness’s rooms to the baron’s, Jane picked up her brush. His chamber contained a large, luxurious bed that he was yet to use. They always slept together in this room.
“Let me do that for you,” he said quietly. The familiar red dressing gown covered his nakedness, and he, too, looked tired and a little downhearted.
“Thank you,” she said, extending the brush toward him. If brushing her hair delayed the moment when they went to bed, he could brush her hair until Doomsday.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want him. It was that she doubted her ability to conceal her newly discovered love when he touched her and kissed her and joined his body with hers. Right now, she felt too raw and vulnerable to survive having her deepest feelings exposed to the light.
Without doubt, Hugh would be kind, but secretly horrified that his wife had so egregiously broken their agreement.
Then he’d start to be careful of her, because he’d hate to hurt her. She’d know it and want to die of mortification. One of the things she enjoyed about their desire was how natural it felt. She had a queasy feeling that their warm, laughing intimacy would prove the first casualty of tonight’s unwelcome revelations.
Still, Jane wasn’t going to give up without a fight. Perhaps if she pretended nothing was wrong, she’d convince Hugh that shewas happy. Perhaps if she pretended nothing was wrong, soon nothing would be wrong.
So she made herself smile at her husband as he brushed her hair. In the mirror, she watched the strain fade from his expression as he took his time, until her hair formed a shining cloak around her shoulders. He seemed content not to speak, which suited her. The less she said, the less likely she was to betray her fragile new feelings.
His hand brushed her cream velvet robe from one shoulder, and he bent to kiss the skin he revealed. The heat of his mouth made her shiver with need, more poignant tonight than it had ever been.
“Come to bed?” he murmured.
“Of course.”
He kissed her neck, until she was shaking. Raising her hand to stroke his rumpled, dark brown hair, she watched her face change in the mirror. She looked completely in Hugh’s thrall.
She looked like she was in love.
That would never do. This marriage was too new to bear the heavy burden of her unrequited love. She tipped her head to give him better access to the sensitive skin beneath her ear. He slid his hands under the velvet to cup her breasts through her sheer silk nightdress.
When his thumbs brushed her nipples, she gasped and arched against him, feeling his impatient need against her back. She untied the belt of her robe and pushed it away. Against the white nightdress, the beaded peaks of her nipples were clearly visible. He groaned and pushed her breasts together. “I want you so much, Jane.”
Jane caught his hands and pressed them closer to her breasts. “Don’t tarry, Hugh.”
And wondered if he heard the stilted note in her plea.
Chapter Thirty
