His pride really was in tatters.
He glanced at the butler. “Show Mrs. Merrick in and have tea brought, Jenkins. Inform the stables that I require Casimir saddled once my guest has left.”
Roberta must want something—she never came near him unless she did. This time, he wanted something from her in return.
Sidonie let herself out of the tall white house in Paddington and sucked in a breath of fresh morning air. Well, fresh as London air got. Late February offered scant promise of spring, although yesterday in Hyde Park, she’d noticed a few brave snowdrops. This year winter lasted forever.
Or perhaps she carried winter with her.
Shivering, she shrank inside her brown cape. Since arriving in town two months ago, she’d bought a couple of secondhand dresses, but she couldn’t summon interest in ordering a wardrobe befitting her new independence. She barely summoned interest to struggle out of bed each day.
The morning was advanced but hadn’t warmed much from frosty beginnings. As a woman past first youth lodging in an irretrievably middle-class neighborhood, she at least could wander abroad unchaperoned. She was later than usual. It had been especially difficult to rise and dress today.
As always lately, the need to make pe
rmanent arrangements for her future nagged at her. For weeks, she’d battled the lethargy that had gripped her since visiting Jonas in Newgate. At first she’d been too heartsick to care where she went, so she’d returned in a fog of despair to Barstowe Hall. But Roberta’s caprices soon grated and Sidonie couldn’t forget how her sister had blithely abandoned Jonas to face accusations of murder.
Life in Wiltshire became increasingly disagreeable as Roberta whined about Jonas Merrick stealing her place in the world—however many times Sidonie explained that if anyone was a thief, it was William and by association, William’s family. Inevitably once confirmed as viscount, Jonas requested possession of Barstowe Hall. This sparked another storm from Roberta, who eventually moved with ill grace and at Jonas’s expense to a pleasant villa in Richmond.
After they left Barstowe Hall, Sidonie decided for the sake of sanity to live apart from her sister. Her birthday had passed and she’d received her legacy. Her own establishment was finally a possibility.
But the actions to make that establishment a reality had proven beyond her.
Staying with a former governess in Paddington provided a stopgap. Each day Sidonie intended to make plans. If only about where to live. But each day passed in a pall of desolation and ended with no more concrete arrangements than at the start. She didn’t want to stay in London. She’d decided to move to the north, Yorkshire or even Northumberland. If only because either was a long way from Devon. But village or city? And right now, she couldn’t manage the journey out of London to find a house.
Instead she spent too many days skulking in her room like a wounded animal, only doing the minimum to maintain health. She hated what she’d become, but didn’t know how to break free of regret and guilt and longing. Hester, her hostess, had attempted to draw Sidonie into her social circle. Sidonie resisted, just wanting blessed numbness.
As time passed, blessed numbness proved harder to maintain. The necessity for action clamored beyond the glass wall that shielded her. Eventually she’d heed the demand, but right now, she drifted with no more conscious volition than a twig in a stream.
Trudging toward the park for her daily walk, she ignored the traffic. Her focus remained on the gray, miserable round of days since she’d left Castle Craven. The gray was almost comfortable now. In this limbo, nobody prodded her to feel anything.
She crossed to Hyde Park. While nothing offered peace, the nearest she came was here among the trees. Blankly she stared into the Serpentine’s green water. She had no idea how long she stood there, not thinking, not feeling, before the hairs on the back of her neck prickled.
These days, such awareness of her surroundings was unfamiliar. Vague annoyance more than anything made her raise her bonneted head. She surveyed the area. The oily surface of the pond. Swans. Ducks. Seagulls squabbling over a crust. Children wrapped against the cold like round dolls. A trio of nursemaids gossiping on a bench.
Still that uncanny sense that someone watched her.
Reluctantly she turned. She wasn’t surprised to observe Jonas leaning against the trunk of an elm several yards away. His arms were folded over his powerful chest and he was better dressed than she remembered. While she couldn’t read the expression on his face under the stylish beaver hat, she could tell he wasn’t happy to encounter her.
Still she didn’t feel anything. Grayness permeated her soul to the point where even seeing Jonas didn’t bring her alive.
Jonas waited for Sidonie to start or gasp or run away. But as her eyes rested upon him, she seemed calm. Uncharacteristically calm. She was deathly pale and her face was drawn. Only now that the crackling energy was absent did he realize how essential that quality had been to the Sidonie he remembered.
“Jonas,” she said evenly as if continuing a conversation.
“Good morning, Sidonie.” Through seething anger and his damned invincible, unwelcome delight in her mere presence, he struggled to keep his voice neutral. He didn’t want to frighten her away.
“I assume you’re looking for me.” Her manner betrayed no trepidation. Purple shadows under her eyes hinted she’d slept as little as he had since their rancorous parting. “It seems too coincidental to run into each other.”
She sounded distant, uninvolved. She didn’t sound like the vibrant, exciting woman who had shared his bed. This woman was literally a shadow of her former self. She’d lost weight. He couldn’t see her body under that ghastly cloak, but her cheekbones protruded and hollows formed in her neck.
“I followed you from your lodgings.”
Not even that admission seemed to bother her. Her gloved hands clasped loosely before her and her shoulders slumped. “I suppose Roberta told you where I was.”
That wasn’t all Roberta had told him. “Yes. She came to visit me yesterday.”
Dull brown eyes examined his features as if trying to discern his thoughts. With difficulty he kept his expression cool. “You said you never wanted to see me again,” she said flatly.