Page 89 of Lord Garson's Bride
Jane hardly listened. “What do I do if I ask him, and he says he can never love me?”
That was the likely outcome, she knew.
“Then you have some thinking to do.” Fenella stood up next to Jane and placed her hand on her arm. “If you need a friend to talk to or some neutral territory to make your decision, I’m always here. Remember you’re not alone in this, Jane. You have somewhere to go.”
Curse it, she was going to start crying again. Jane blinked back prickling tears and forced a wobbly smile to her lips. “Thank you, Fen. I don’t deserve your kindness.”
“Of course you do.” Fen smiled back, but concern clouded her blue eyes. “I’d give anything to see you and Garson resolve your problems.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
When Garson emerged from the bedroom the morning after the Jamesons’ dull musicale, he was puzzled to see Jane in the sitting room. Over recent weeks, he’d mostly breakfasted alone, then taken a long ride in Hyde Park. His wife’s late rising made perfect sense, given the hectic life she led. But he couldn’t help thinking that she lingered in bed to avoid him.
The sight of her lifted his mood. Perhaps she waited to tell him that she wanted to go to Derbyshire. He’d come to loathe London, which was strange as he’d always loved it before these last weeks. The prospect of a few quiet months at Beardsley Hall beckoned like heaven. But he’d be damned before he abandoned Jane to her admirers, while her husband limped away like a beaten hound. He and Jane left together, or they stayed to finish this purgatory of a season.
“Good morning,” he said, hoping against hope that he was right about Derbyshire.
He tightened the belt of his dressing gown, then sat and poured himself a cup of strong coffee to clear a thick head. Although last night when he got home, he hadn’t done much beyond go to sleep. If Jane had shown the slightest interest in bed sport, he’d have responded with alacrity. But he was sick to the stomach of making all the running.
“Good morning, Hugh,” she said without smiling.
She wore a pretty light blue gown, and behind her, the window was open on a lovely day. Spring had arrived since they’d come to London. Unfortunately the bright sunlight revealed Jane looking tired and drawn. His spirits fell as swiftly as they’d risen. This wasn’t a woman anticipating a rural idyll.
Although he supposed in its way, her subdued manner was an improvement. Lately she’d been as glittering at home as she was in society. It wore him out. He couldn’t imagine that maintaining the relentless cheerfulness was any easier on her. Especially as he knew damn well that it was all an act.
He hated to see her looking as downcast as she did this morning, though. As he’d grudgingly admitted to Silas at Anthony and Fenella’s ball, he was conscious that so far, he made an utter hash of his marriage.
“Have you had breakfast?” he asked, seeing the crumbled roll on her plate. Lately, she didn’t eat enough to keep a sparrow alive. It hadn’t missed his notice that the blue dress hung more loosely than it had last time he’d seen her wear it.
“Yes, thank you.” Her perfect politeness reminded him of the large-eyed little girl she’d been, getting under his feet and suffering a bad case of hero worship. Devil take it, these days he’d give his right arm to be her hero again. He had a disagreeable suspicion that he’d proven a vast disappointment as a husband.
“I wondered if you could spare me a few minutes this morning,” Jane said, as though she addressed a stranger. “There’s something I’d like to talk about.”
He scowled at her. “You’re my bloody wife, Jane, not a tenant in arrears with the rent. You don’t need to make an appointment to see me.”
Garson regretted his outburst the moment he made it. He regretted it even more when she flinched as though he’d hit her.“I’m sorry, Hugh. We’ve both been out and about so much, I thought I should check if you’ll be here.”
“Out and about” really meant staying out of each other’s way. How in hell had all the passion and laughter they’d shared led to this point? “No, I’m sorry. Would you like to talk now?”
Jane began to pleat her napkin. When she fiddled with the table linen, it was always a sign that she was troubled. “No, I’ll see you in the library, once you’re dressed and ready for the day.”
“This sounds serious,” he said, trying to make her smile.
The gray eyes she raised to his were as dull as a cloudy sky. “Yes, I rather think it is.”
Shaken, he watched as she stood and left the room without another word.
He stared after her in consternation. What in Hades was going on? Was she about to confess some wrongdoing? Silas had mentioned Harslett pursuing her. Was that by way of a warning?
Surely not. Jane wanted him. He’d wager his whole fortune that she did.
But did that mean she couldn’t want another man as well?
The thought of his wife in someone else’s arms made his empty stomach churn. He’d feared this, almost expected it. But not this soon. They’d only been married two months. She couldn’t have tired of him already.
Couldn’t she? Something was wrong. Had been wrong for weeks. Like a blockhead, he’d hoped the trouble would blow over. Now he couldn’t mistake the ax poised over his head, ready to fall.
His hand slammed down on the table, setting the china rattling and a knife bouncing to the floor. Be damned if he’d give up without a fight.
