Page 44 of Snowbound Regency Christmas
Her second-cousin hadn’t noticed. ‘The snow is beginning to melt. I’m certain you’ll be able to travel to your parents in Bournemouth by then.’
‘My parents live in Bristol, sir.’
‘As I said.’ Franklin waved a careless hand, although his eyes were cool as ever. ‘Don’t forget: the twenty-seventh. Two days, and then I’m afraid you must be gone.’
‘I won’t forget. You can be assured of that.’
There was no way Duncan wouldn’t have caught the end of their unpleasant conversation as he approached, but when he came to stand at her elbow his face was determinedly impassive.
‘Jane. If you’re ready, we ought to return to the house,’ he said civilly. ‘It’s cold and I don’t think you’re dressed warmly enough to stand around for long.’
‘No. I believe you’re right.’
He held out an arm and she took it without hesitation, glad of the support. She didn’t want to spend another moment in her relation’s odious presence and she suspected Duncan felt the same, although the good manners that so often set him above other gentlemen wouldn’t allow him to leave without a word.
‘Mr Franklin.’ He bowed solemnly to the other man. ‘Please accept my sincere condolences on the loss of your mother. She was a fine woman and I’m sure the neighbourhood will miss her greatly.’
‘Oh.’ Cousin Franklin looked faintly surprised that anyone should bother to admire his mother, making Jane’s blood begin to heat again. ‘Thank you, Fitzjames. It was good ofyourmother to take Jane in for Christmas. I would have done so myself, but…’
He tailed off. Clearly, even he wasn’t tactless enough to finish that sentence with the truth—that he didn’t care a fig what became of her, at Christmas or any other time—but Duncan’s response came quickly enough to cover any awkward pause.
‘It was no hardship. The circumstances of her coming to us were regrettable, but Miss Stockwell’s company has been—and always will be—a pleasure.’
His arm tightened imperceptibly around her fingers and Jane felt herself glow. It was a sweet thing to say and he seemed to mean it, his words lightening some of the oppressive weight Franklin’s ruthlessness had set onto her shoulders.
‘Well. Quite.’ Franklin didn’t look as though he necessarily agreed with Duncan’s sentiment. Having a near penniless woman under his roof was something he actively wanted to avoid rather than embrace, and he stepped back quickly as if afraid Duncan would offer to share his good fortune. ‘I bid you both a Merry Christmas. Good morning.’ He tipped his expensive hat and strode away, sliding a little on the slippery ground.
He was right that the snow was beginning to melt. In places, the white carpet had been reduced to a grey slush and as she watched him leave Jane knew she would soon have no excuse but to do the same. Her time with the Fitzjameses was running out, and there was nothing she could do to hold back the hours before she’d have to wave them goodbye.
The weight on her shoulders slid down into her gut. The idea of parting from Duncan again was too painful to entertain, and although she knew she was just saving up unhappiness for another day she couldn’t help but try not to think about it as he began to lead her back towards his mother and the girls.
‘Come on,’ he said gently, as if he understood how seeing Franklin had tied her innards up in knots. ‘Let’s go back. Dinner will be cooking, and if there’s anything that smells more delicious than a Christmas goose I’m sure I’ve never found it.’
Seated comfortably beside the fire, so full of goose and Christmas pudding that he could hardly move, Duncan suspected he might have fallen asleep if he hadn’t been busy watching Jane out of the corner of his eye.
She knelt on the hearthrug, playing some complicated game with Eliza and a new doll, but although she was smiling he could tell her mind was elsewhere. It was no mystery where her thoughts had strayed and he realised the knowledge had made him unconsciously grit his teeth.
Couldn’t Franklin let her have Christmas Day in peace, at the very least? Was that too much to ask?
He’d guessed immediately why her second-cousin had cornered her in the churchyard and on approaching he had been proven right. The miserly wretch had wanted to drive home the message that she was unwanted and in so doing had dented any enjoyment she might have otherwise found in a day meant to spread gladness, not crush it into the ground. For Jane to be happy was all he wanted and seeing a fresh crease between her eyebrows hurt, the little furrow a sign of suppressed grief he ached to smooth away.
Beneath his waistcoat, the question that had been nagging at him since the day she’d let him kiss her in the snow pressed harder against his ribs.
I wonder what she’d say if I were to propose again?
Unseen by anyone else in the parlour, he pressed his fingertips against his tired eyes.
Not that I have any intention of doing so. It’s just an idle thought.
Yes, she had let him kiss her. Yes, her liking for his company seemed to have survived their three years apart… But liking wasn’t enough. If she hadn’t wanted to marry himthen,there was nothing to say she would want tonow, the reason for her previous rejection still not something he fully understood. A sensible man would want to avoid the potential for more pain and he was nothing if not rational, the need to spare himself fresh agony telling him to keep his distance before everything went catastrophically awry.
And yet…
If he’d been alone in the room, he might have groaned out loud. The gnawing beneath his ribs intensified with every orbit of his mind around the same central point and he feared that if he didn’t act soon there was a very real chance that he might run mad. He had to know for certain how she felt, even if only to bolster his own defences, and the only way to find out was to leap headfirst into the abyss.
He stood up.
‘I think the girls are getting restless,’ he announced a little too loudly. ‘If I took them for a walk, Miss Stockwell, could you be persuaded to come with us?’
