He sighed, looking at the tiara he’d given her, now knocked slightly askew. “It’s terribly unfortunate these things had to come out tonight.”
“That is your fault, isn’t it?” she said, her voice rising again. “They might have come out before tonight if you’d only been honest and admitted our marriage was a mistake. Your mistake.” She crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at him. “I don’t want to be near you. I want to go home.”
“I suppose it might be best for you to leave. We can discuss this in greater depth when you’re in a calmer frame of mind.”
“No, I want to go home to Reading, to my parents’ house. They’re there yet, for they do not enjoy London, and I don’t either.”
“You will not go to your parents’ house.”
“Why not? You don’t want to be married to me.”
“That is not true, Jane. For God’s sake, we’ll talk more about things when you’re not in a rage. Neither of us was ready to have this conversation tonight.” If it had been up to him, he’d never have had this conversation with his wife, but some damned group of gossips had taken the matter out of his hands.
“I just want to go.” She sank into a chair by the fire and buried her head in her hands. “I want to go away from you. From everyone.”
“You’re my wife, so you’ll return to my home, where you may keep to your private rooms until you’re feeling more yourself.”
She looked up at him, her eyes red and tormented. “I have always been myself, Lord Townsend. Always, since the start of our marriage. It’s you who’s been dishonest and false. You punished me for that more than once, for being dishonest with you. It seems a marvelous hypocrisy now.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” he admitted. “But you do not seem in the mood to accept an apology right now.”
“Why should I believe any apology when I no longer trust you?”
Her voice was scathing, her tone cold as ice. He had never seen this Jane, never suspected this angry, scornful, weeping female existed in their marriage, but there she was, regarding him accusingly from her chair. He wished he could have the other Jane back, the cheery, eager-to-please one, but he feared he might have lost her forever. Maybe he deserved to.
“If you wait here, I’ll make our excuses to my parents and bid Felicity goodbye.” She didn’t answer, so he went to the door, then looked back at her. “Stay here, all right?”
“Yes, I’ll stay like a proper trained dog,” she said. “I won’t run after you and make any more scenes. I know you hate that.”
Goodness, how small and petty she made him feel. All this time, he’d thought her agreeable as an angel, but she had a bit of the devil when she was wronged. He considered for a moment how things would have gone if he’d been honest from the beginning. He’d have hurt her feelings, yes, but she would have come into their marriage knowing where she stood.
The irony was, he had slowly fallen in love with her over the previous months. And it wasn’t the false, obsessive love he’d felt for Ophelia, but a true, deepening, honest love borne of spending days and nights together, learning about each other.
But now…
I’m sorry, so sorry I hurt you, he wanted to say. But she’d told him she didn’t want his apologies, and he feared more of her cold, uncaring responses if he attempted it. He’d take her home and give her some space.
He left her in the parlor and went to find his parents, ignoring all the curious stares. Truth be told, he’d earned this embarrassment through his dishonesty. It wasn’t a spanking, but it smarted just as much.
Chapter Sixteen
Space to Breathe
The morning after the ball Edward came to her room while she was still asleep, before she had time to wake up and hide from him. She opened her eyes to find him sitting on her bed, staring right at her.
“I’m sorry,” he said before she could speak. “I’m sorry I kept my poor behavior from you, the behavior that led to our betrothal. I should have explained.”
When he reached to touch her face, she frowned and turned away. “Yes, you should have. It wasn’t pleasant to hear about it from gossips.”
“I’m also sorry I spanked you last night, when we were both upset.”
It had been a hard spanking too, short as it was. He did not go so far as to say she didn’t deserve it. Maybe she had, for breaking the most important rule of London society—never making a scene.
“I wish we could return to Somerton,” she said, staring at the far wall. “I don’t want to be here in London. They’ll talk about me even more now.”
“It may be that people will always talk about you. Perhaps you must come to terms with it, and me as well. We can’t leave as I have duties here, and I want you with me.”