Page 49 of Lord Garson's Bride
She was a jewel among women, his Jane.
Garson should get up, go back to the dressing room, wash, shave, dig out some clothes that didn’t stink of smoke and drink.But his late night weighed on him, it was cozy where he was, and he had his wife in his embrace. He’d get up in a few minutes, but right now he couldn’t summon the will to leave.
She was a luscious bundle, his Jane. Who knew that she’d fit so nicely into the space next to his heart? Who knew that he’d ever think of Jane Norris ashisJane?
* * *
When Jane woke, it was late and she was alone—and disappointed that she was. A few times during the night she’d stirred, restless to be sharing a bed with someone for the first time. But there was something delightful about having a large male body pressed tight to her back and powerful male arms holding her close. She’d hoped Hugh might wake her with more kisses, like the kisses he’d given her yesterday. She’d even harbored a cowardly wish that events might pursue their course and save her from having to say the words inviting him to take her.
But it seemed if she wanted him, she had to tell him.
She set her hand where he’d lain. Ice cold. He must have been up for a while. She glanced around the room, but nothing hinted that Jane Norris had slept with a man. Even if she remained as pure as ever.
Almost. Heated reminiscence rippled through her, as she recalled the shocking, delightful things Hugh had done in the coach yesterday. Wickedly, she wondered what other marvels her husband could show her.
Obeying a sudden impulse, she rolled over and buried her head in his pillow. Immediately she inhaled Hugh’s rich scent. She’d know that scent anywhere. In the carnal sense, she mightn’t yet be his wife, but somewhere she’d crossed a barrier.He was no longer just her childhood friend, but closer to her than anyone else in the world.
* * *
Garson’s wife appeared in the doorway, neat as usual, beautiful hair constrained in a formal knot. How his fingers itched to release that glorious mane. He’d only once seen it unbound, on their calamitous wedding night. But even in a parlous state after yesterday’s overindulgence, he feared that if he started with undoing her hair, he’d move to undoing other things. Who knew where they’d end up?
He laid down his newspaper and summoned a smile, even as he winced at the bright light. “Good morning, Jane.”
Sunlight poured through the mullioned windows and added a touch of summer to the pleasant parlor. The light caught russet highlights in her hair, reminding him of the passion concealed under that demure manner. A passion he prayed she’d soon share with him.
He wanted to cross the room and take her in his arms. But he was uncomfortably aware that he’d been less than gallant last night, and some good behavior was called for.
“Good morning, Hugh,” she said with a faint blush. “How are you feeling?”
“Better than I should.” He rose from his armchair and pulled a dining chair out for her. The vestiges of a headache lingered, but several cups of the Red Lion’s strong coffee kept the worst aftereffects at bay. “I’ll ring for breakfast.”
“Thank you,” she said, sitting down.
While the servants set up their meal then left, Garson composed an apology. But before he could speak, Jane gestured toward his full plate with her teacup. “That’s more than I thought you’d want. I expect you have a beast of a head.”
He heard no hint of criticism. “You’re used to seeing the effects of drunkenness?”
“I had to deal with the farmhands after the harvest. I may not have enjoyed much sophisticated society recently, but running the estate meant I saw plenty of real life.”
“I sometimes forget how capable you are.” He went back to his sirloin and potatoes. “You’ve had to take on so much, Jane, and I admire you for doing it with such pluck and efficiency.”
Her blush deepened, which was odd. She usually only blushed when he complimented her looks. Although she looked very pretty this morning, even in that gray rag of a dress.
“Thank you. I didn’t have much choice.”
“You still did a fine job in a difficult situation. I take my hat off to you.”
She set down her cup and began to butter her roll. “I enjoyed restoring the estate to prosperity, although I needed more capital to make a big difference. Papa lost interest in Cavell Court long before he fell sick.”
“It must have been hard work, though, and not what you’d been raised to do.”
“I already knew quite a lot. Because I was the plain sister, Papa saw no harm in it, when I went to the cattle sales with him or helped the steward with the accounts.”
Garson bit back a protest at the word “plain,” even if he’d once been guilty of thinking it. He still marveled that he’d missed her potential. After all, he was accounted a man with an eye for a pretty woman. That day in Dorset, he’d been in such a blue funk about contracting a loveless marriage. He’d been too het up to see that once Jane recovered her spirits, she’d be something special. Until now, he’d always believed Morwenna was the loveliest woman he’d ever seen, but his wife, pink-cheeked and sweet as she was right now, gave his true love a run for her money.
The idea felt vaguely disloyal and made him shift uncomfortably. Not that Morwenna gave a fig for what he thought, he bitterly admitted. “I hope in time you’ll come to think of Beardsley Hall as your home.”
Jane’s shy smile raked across his heart. “Thank you.”
