Lord Garson’s Bride (Dashing Widows 7)

“I’m sorry to hear that. You seemed so comfortable together.”

“We were.” He noted the past tense and felt like smashing something.

“Tell me—just what were you expecting, when you married Jane?”

Garson shrugged, although he felt anything but casual about his wife. “I’d pictured something like a friendship, with a bit of bed sport thrown in to spice things up.”

“But that’s not what you got?”

He thought he had. At first. But what intimate details could he share without betraying his wife? That was another unexpected result of married life—the way he and Jane had become a unit. Now his first loyalty was to her.

Anyway, he wasn’t even sure he was capable of defining the problem. Most people would say he had damn all to complain about. In bed, Jane was endlessly cooperative. When she was indisposed, she slept alone, but she invited him into her chamber readily enough afterward. If she held something back from him, something she’d once shared with him, the difference was so subtle that he’d be hard placed to describe it.

Perhaps it was that these days, she never initiated their encounters. He craved the return of the woman whose sensual curiosity prompted her to take him into her mouth. She’d taken him into her mouth since, but always at his request.

And there were no more jokes about the Tower of London. There were no more jokes at all. Damn it, he missed the laughter they’d shared more than he missed anything else.

He’d feel a fool trying to explain these hazy impressions to a friend, even if he was inclined to share such private matters.

“I don’t think she’s happy she married me,” he said in a low voice. Putting the oppressive truth into words twisted his gut into tangles of misery.

Silas looked thoughtful. “Are you talking to one another? I mean, really talking.”

“We talk,” Garson said. Although he knew what Silas was asking, and the answer was no, they weren’t. After his wedding, he’d spent a fortnight discovering an intriguing woman. But these days, the gates to true intimacy slammed shut in his face.

And left him outside on the empty road, starving and cold.

“Good,” Silas said. “Because if I’ve learned anything in all my years of marriage, it’s that a woman’s mind is a labyrinth where a man gets lost if he’s not careful. You need to find out what’s worrying Jane and fix it, if you want to have a prayer of making her happy.”

Garson gave a heavy sigh and set aside his brandy. Liquor wasn’t going to soothe his wretchedness. “I’ve asked her what’s wrong, and she says everything’s fine.”

“Bugger.”

When Silas looked really worried, cold terror settled in Garson’s belly. “What?”

“Fine is the worst thing she could say. If she says everything’s fine, it most definitely isn’t.”

“Perhaps I should take her up to Derbyshire. All this gallivanting might be the problem.”

“Don’t be a damned coward. Sit down with her and don’t get up until she’s told you what’s upsetting her.”

That was good advice if only she stopped flittering about long enough for him to catch her.

“I hate feeling so inadequate. I hate to think she regrets marrying me.” Garson spread his hands in bewilderment. “This isn’t what I wanted.”

Silas’s glance was unimpressed. “What you wanted when you married her didn’t do her justice. Damn it, it didn’t do you justice either. It was a blasted cold bargain.”

“There’s nothing cold about how I feel about Jane,” Hugh snapped, bristling at the criticism, even if he deserved it. “That’s part of the problem.”

Silas’s smile held too much pity for Garson’s liking. “Having a yen for your wife is a good thing.”

The damnable truth was that, despite their estrangement, Garson still wanted her all the time. He resented being at the mercy of his animal impulses. “Maybe.”

“You’ll work it out.” Silas tried to sound encouraging. “All marriages require compromise. It’s early days yet.”

“Any other platitudes you want to share?” Garson asked grumpily.

“No.” The pity in Silas’s expression deepened. “Because I see my good advice is falling on barren ground. I wish you well, my friend. You’ll muddle through. We all do in the end.”