Lord Garson’s Bride (Dashing Widows 7)

Jane’s lips tightened against the urge to cry. Her instincts screamed that if she betrayed any weakness, she’d never escape him. “I don’t expect to be happy.”

Narrowing his eyes, he stepped closer and held out his hands to her. His tone softened, and his expression turned pleading instead of belligerent. “Then, don’t go, Jane. I won’t have my wife rotting away in genteel poverty, just because I didn’t have the sense to keep her. I can’t bear to think of you eking out your days all alone in some mean little room.”

Oh, this was worse than his rage. “Hugh, I can’t stay,” she said huskily, praying she could resist him. “You must see that.”

He prowled near enough to catch her hands. His touch always had such power. Now it shuddered through her like an earthquake. Soon this touch that had brought her alive would only be a memory. Without it, she feared she’d die of longing.

“You’ve fretted yourself into a state,” he said, his rage gone as if it had never been. This was the voice of the man who had given her pleasure night after night. “I know you’re upset and confused. But we’ve only been married a few weeks. Don’t throw away everything we have, for the sake of a chimera. Let me show you that what we’ve built can be the foundation for a lifetime of happiness.”

Devil take him, he was so persuasive. The alluring voice. The firm grip on her hands. The affection warming his expression. For an instant, she wondered if she was being a fool. Perhaps she should settle for what he offered. A share in Hugh’s life might be better than nothing at all.

Hugh’s head lowered and drawn like iron filings to a magnet, she leaned toward him. Anticipation rippled through her, softened her hard-won resistance. He was about to kiss her.

He loved Morwenna.

Heaven help her, if she didn’t break free now, she’d never find the will to leave. Suffering would eat her away, the way maggots ate at rotten meat. The last few weeks, she’d nearly gone mad, thirsting after what she could never have. As she’d told him, she had no expectation of happiness, but if she didn’t have to see him every day, perhaps one day in the distant future she might find a measure of peace.

“No…” she sighed, before she went rigid and wrenched free. Her voice sharpened. “No. I can’t live with you, knowing you’re in love with someone else.”

His jaw firmed. “I can’t change my heart.”

“I can’t either.” She stiffened her shoulders and met his eyes, as she gathered the dogged determination that had carried her this far. “I’m leaving today, Hugh.”

“Today?” Shock tightened the skin on his face and turned his features ashen, giving her a hint of how he’d look as an old man. “You’ve already gone behind my back and chosen your hideaway? Damn you, that was quick work. So nothing I can say will change your mind about going?”

He was back to sounding angry. But she’d reached a pitch of anguish where she just wanted this over with. “No,” she said miserably.

“Damn you, Jane, that was shabby.”

It had been, but she didn’t see that she’d had any choice. “I need somewhere to go.”

“Where?” One large hand made a sweeping gesture, as if he brushed away the whole blasted mess. “You know I’ll be worried sick about you. However upset and fed up you are, that would be cruel. And you’re never cruel.”

Determined not to cry in front of him, Jane bit her lip until she tasted blood. The urge to relent hovered so close to the surface. While she was convinced that leaving Hugh offered her only hope, a large part of her wanted to say she’d take any crumbs he deigned to give her. Even though she knew she’d starve to death on such short rations.

“Fenella and Anthony are letting me use the dower house at the Beeches, while I decide what I do next,” she said in a faint voice.

“The devil they are.” His anger reached another level, the new quietness of his tone indicating just how furious he was. “You’ve told them about us?”

She knew he’d feel betrayed. “I needed help, and I couldn’t think of anyone else to turn to.”

“You could have turned to me, Jane,” he said, and the infinity of pain in his words sliced at her like razors.

She struggled to continue. “Fenella won’t gossip, you know that. She’s told Anthony I need a short rest from the social whirl.”

“He’ll think you’re bloody pregnant,” Hugh said sourly.

Which brought up another delicate, but essential matter. She’d rather discuss this when her husband was his even-tempered self. But she couldn’t think when that would be. After today, there was no hope of resurrecting the easy friendship that she’d cherished.

What a trail of destruction their marriage had wreaked. How she wished she’d said no when Hugh proposed. She almost had. She’d feared she ventured into a world of pitfalls beyond her imagining.

She’d been right.

Which was no consolation, when she stood here with her heart in jagged pieces. “I’m not pregnant.”

“I know.”

“Or at least I think I’m not.” She stiffened her spine, until she feared it must crack. “I’ll write and let you know.”