Lord Garson’s Bride

by Anna Campbell

Despite all her stern words to herself, she tensed. How could she bear to feel his lips on hers, when his heart remained chock full of another woman? She told herself she’d come to terms with this. She would.

  But she needed a little time.

  At the last minute, she turned her head so his kiss glanced across her cheek.

  She hoped he wouldn’t notice, or if he did, he’d think the evasion was accidental. But she felt him go as still as stone, then slowly straighten.

  “Let’s get you into the ballroom before you turn into an icicle.” He sounded like the polite man who had proposed to her, not like the passionate lover who shared her bed with such enthusiasm.

  Jane told herself that was a good thing. She could maintain some emotional distance from the first man. It was so much more difficult to maintain any detachment from the second one. She’d just had a salutary reminder that if she didn’t keep a corner of her soul for herself, she headed for devastation.

  “I’ll warm up, once I’m dancing again,” she said, her voice heavy with unshed tears. She shouldn’t resent Lady Frame’s pity, but she did, how she did. Especially when the woman had only spoken the unpalatable truth.

  Hugh took her arm. “Don’t forget you promised me the next waltz.”

  “I can hardly wait.” Although right now, pretending to the world—and Hugh—that she was in alt to be his partner seemed an impossible goal.

  They crossed the terrace toward the ballroom. Supper must have started. She couldn’t hear any music, and the ballroom only contained a few people, compared to the vociferous multitudes of before.

  As she was about to step inside, Hugh drew her back.

  “What is it?” she asked, feeling likely to shatter, but still battling to behave like the carefree creature who had sneaked out into the moonlight to steal a few kisses.

  He looked deadly serious, his dark eyes searching. He didn’t look like the lighthearted man who had swept her into his arms half an hour ago either. “I meant it when I said you make me happy.”

  She tightened her throat against a sob. This was her night. The new Lady Garson had triumphed, however crushed vulnerable Jane Rutherford might feel. She couldn’t face his friends with tears in her eyes. There had already been more than enough gossip about her husband and his romantic entanglements. And the thought of anyone else saying they felt sorry for her made her retch.

  It took her a moment to remember she still had the right to touch him. She raised a tentative hand to his cheek and dredged up what she prayed was a reassuring smile. His skin was warm through her delicate satin glove.

  “Thank you, Hugh.” She guessed he was waiting for her to proclaim a reciprocal happiness, but the words jammed unspoken in her throat.

  He placed his hand over hers and pressed it into his face. “You do make me happy.”

  His tone sounded as if he countered some argument, when she hadn’t said a word to disagree. In its way, what he said was probably even true. He’d certainly enjoyed her body, and she couldn’t mistake his pride in her tonight.

  He waited for a response, but she remained silent, staring up at him as if she’d never seen him before.

  In a way, she hadn’t. Odd how those moments in the darkness had resulted in her taking a clear view of her situation at last. She swiftly slid her hand away from his face and buried it in her skirts.

  “Shall we go down to supper?” he asked, his gaze still concerned.

  “Yes,” she said, wishing her answer wasn’t a muffled croak. She turned away, before he read too much in her face. A fortnight of marriage had taught her to beware his powers of perception.

  He offered his arm, and they went inside the ballroom. Jane squared her shoulders. So what if people were talking about her husband’s devotion to another woman? Nothing new in that.

  But something had changed. Something momentous.

  Because this evening, Jane had done more than act like a giddy girl in love, silly as that might be. When she’d listened to the Frames talking about her, she’d soon realized that she’d gone disastrously past what she’d promised her husband when she married him.

  God help her, no acting was involved anymore. The giddy girl had fallen in love with a man who would never love her back.

  And she didn’t know how she could endure it.

  *

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  *

  It somehow made matters worse that the first people Jane saw in the supper room were Susan and Frederick. She’d caught a glimpse of her sister through the crush earlier and meant to seek her out, but her procession of eager partners had kept her busy since then.

  Jane didn’t want to deal with her sister right now. Susan had a bad habit of saying “I told you so.” The fact that she’d predicted unhappiness for this marriage made her a far from ideal companion tonight.

  But the room was crowded, and Susan and Frederick’s table had two spare seats. Jane gestured toward the corner. “Susan’s over there, and she has space.”

  She glimpsed Anthony signaling for them to squeeze in on a table with him and Fenella, but Susan had caught her eye now and it was too late.

  “Whatever she says to you, don’t listen. You’ve made a splash, and you’ll be the talk of the Town tomorrow,” Hugh said under his breath, as he approached his new in-laws with a reluctance Jane hoped was visible only to her. “I’ll wager she’s pea green with envy that her mousy little sister has turned into a peacock. She’ll tell you your dress is too daring, and your hair is too wild, and you’re a shame to the Norrises.”

  Jane had a sinking feeling he was right. Susan had always reserved the older sister’s privilege to criticize the younger. As they approached, Frederick stood with every appearance of pleasure on his unremarkable face. She’d always liked her sister’s husband, although his good nature meant Susan and her horrid children bullied him unmercifully.

  “I wasn’t a mouse,” she said, more for form’s sake than because she meant it.

  “Not for the want of trying,” Hugh muttered, before he turned to Frederick with what she’d come to think of as his social smile. It went no deeper than the surface of his eyes, whereas when he really smiled, she saw every inch of his generous soul.

  “Good evening, Bacon. Nice crowd here.” He bowed to Susan. “Susan, you’re looking a picture.”

  Susan simpered at him from where she sat in the corner. “Thank you, Hugh. Are you and Janie planning to stay in Town? I thought you were going to Derbyshire.”

  Jane had learned enough of fashion, even in the short time she’d spent with the Dashing Widows as her guides, to recognize that while her sister’s rose sarsenet gown was becoming, it lacked the extra touch that lent Helena’s clothes such panache. The same touch Madame Lisette had given to the dresses Jane had ordered from her.

  “Plans change,” Hugh said evenly. “I thought Jane might enjoy some society, after so long at Cavell Court doing her family duty.”

  A puzzled frown crossed Susan’s face, as if she wasn’t sure whether he reprimanded her. Jane, who knew very well he did, kissed her sister’s cheek, getting a lungful of gardenia scent for her trouble. “Good evening, Susan. How are the children?”

  Luckily that launched a good twenty minutes of monologue. Lucy apparently promised to be the belle of the season, even if a head cold kept her from tonight’s ball. A litany of her niece’s conquests kept sisterly advice at bay long enough for Jane to dig deep into her courage and find the poise her pride insisted upon.

  Susan’s voice formed a background to her turbulent thoughts. She was in love with her husband. She’d been in love with him since their days in Salisbury. But she’d been too inexperienced to understand that in awakening her passions, Hugh had also captured her heart.

  What a fool she was to assume she could resist him. How could he fail to win her love? He was everything she admired. Good. Considerate. Understanding. Ardent. Intelligent. Strong. It would be a miracle, if she hadn’t tumbled head over heels in love with him
.

  Hugh was the perfect man for her. Except for one glaring flaw. He was in love with another woman. She could almost commend his steadfast loyalty to his beloved.

  Almost.

  But she wasn’t that much of a saint. Morwenna must be a paragon. The woman had to be special to earn the unswerving devotion of such an exceptional man as Hugh Rutherford. But right now, Jane would love to claw out Morwenna’s no doubt sparkling eyes and tell her to let Hugh go, so he could love again.

  Stupid fantasies. No doubt even if Jane blinded her out of spite, Morwenna would retain her iron grip on Hugh’s heart.

  “Janie, did you hear me?”

  She’d drifted off and missed the end of Susan’s tale of a duke dancing with Lucy at Almack’s last night. “I beg your pardon. I wasn’t listening. The evening’s been overwhelming. You know how quiet my life was at Cavell Court.”

  “I do indeed.” Susan cast a glance at the empty seats at the table. Hugh and Frederick had gone in search of more champagne, so the two sisters had a moment’s privacy. More was the pity. “You’re not eating very much. Are you expecting a happy event?”

  Jane blinked at her sister and bit back the self-pitying retort that she never expected to be happy again. She refused to let that be true, by heaven. “We’re engaged to go to the opera tomorrow night with Charles and Sally Kinglake.”

  Susan made an impatient sound. “Don’t be such a goose. Are you going to have a baby? I vow I couldn’t keep down even a morsel, when I was carrying dear Lucy.”

  A baby? With everything else that had happened in the last hour, the idea was too momentous for her to consider.

  “No, I don’t think so.” She swallowed a surge of nausea, as she looked down at the untouched delicacies on her plate. “We’ve been married little more than a fortnight. It’s too early to tell.”

  Susan looked unimpressed. “You might have anticipated your vows.”

  “Susan,” Jane protested, genuinely shocked.

  Her sister shrugged and reached to transfer the lobster patties from Jane’s plate to hers. “I would have, just to make sure of him. Hugh’s one of those chivalrous types. He’d never abandon you, once he took your cherry.” Her tone sharpened. “Don’t look at me like that. You two haven’t sat around for the last two weeks, doing nothing but hold hands.”

  Jane blushed, which she supposed was answer enough.

  Susan went on. “I’m so glad we have the chance for a quiet word.”

  Here it comes, thought Jane, her bruised heart sinking even lower.

  Her sister didn’t disappoint her. “Where on earth did you get that dress? It’s not respectable, Janie. You’re new to London. You don’t want a reputation.”

  Didn’t she? She’d been careful all her life, but tonight she’d glimpsed a more adventurous path. “Lady West took me to her modiste. She seemed to think this gown was in the current mode.”

  “That explains it.” Susan glanced around. Jane guessed she was checking if Hugh was within earshot. “Lady West is spoken of as an original. Why, she’s considered quite the bluestocking, and corresponds with all sorts of men on mathematical subjects. Or at least that’s the story.”

  Jane frowned. Susan implied Helena was conducting intrigues, where it had been immediately obvious to her that she was madly in love with her husband. “I like her. She and West are good friends of Hugh’s. I won’t hear anything against her.”

  This animated defense startled Susan. Usually for the sake of peace, Jane pretended to heed her sister’s advice. “I’m only telling you this for your own good. You’ve started running with a fast crowd, who are likely to lead you astray. They already have. Papa would be appalled to see you dressed like a harlot, with your bosom on show for all the world to see. You put me to the blush, Janie, you really do.”

  Jane cast a glance down at her chest. The gown was more dashing than she usually wore but nowhere near unacceptable. As Hugh so unflatteringly remarked, she’d dressed like a blasted nun before she married him. “Susan, why are you trying to spoil my pleasure in my first ball?”

  “I…” Susan spluttered, but Jane spoke over her, in a way she never had before.

  “You know how humdrum my life has been for the last ten years.”

  “Don’t be silly. You loved living in Dorset.”

  “No, it suited you to think that.” Jane’s eyes narrowed on her sister. “But don’t you think I regretted missing out on having a season like yours? Don’t you think I longed for company my own age, and new and interesting people to talk to?”

  Susan looked increasingly uncomfortable. “You never said anything.”

  “What was the point? Someone had to take charge at Cavell Court.” Aware that they were in public, Jane kept her voice low, but the strength of her feelings vibrated through every word. It was fortunate that the noise in the packed room masked this increasingly contentious discussion. “Now I’m married, and I have a wonderful husband, and the chance to do the things I’ve always wanted to. I’m twenty-eight, not sixteen. I won’t be lectured about my clothes, or my friends, or my behavior.”

  Susan’s face flushed, and temper flashed in her dark eyes. “I was only trying to help.”

  “Well, I appreciate it,” Jane said, without meaning a word. “But you can leave me to make my own way in society.”

  Susan glanced past Jane’s shoulder to someone behind her. “You should keep better control of your wife, Hugh, or she’ll bring the whole family into disrepute. This unseemly rag she has on is only the start of it. You mark my words.”

  Jane wondered how long he’d been standing there. “Rubbish,” he snapped. “Jane’s a credit to the Norris name, and a credit to me as her husband. Susan, your sister is going to become a power in the world.”

  Anger thinned Susan’s lips to a tiny red line. “I wash my hands of both of you.” She looked up at Frederick, who Jane realized hovered beside Hugh. Poor Frederick. It was his fate to be overlooked. “Take me home, Frederick. I find I have a headache.”

  Under his receding brown hairline, Frederick’s eyes were bewildered. He extended a glass of champagne toward Susan as she stood up. “But, my love, you asked me to get this for you.”

  “I don’t want it. We are leaving.” She snatched the glass away from him and slammed it down on the table so hard, champagne sloshed over the top. Jane was grateful they were in a corner and out of general view. As it was, she caught a curious glance from Caro a few tables away. She sent her new friend a subtle shake of the head to discourage her from coming over.

  Jane stood. “Susan, don’t be silly.”

  “Silly, am I?” She puffed up to her full five foot two and shot Jane a searing glare. “Let’s see if you still say that, when your name has become a byword for depravity.”

  “It’s only a dress.”

  “It’s the thin edge of the wedge. I can see it in your eyes, that you’re not the same girl you were.”

  “That’s a good thing,” Jane said bravely, but Susan swept over her comment as if she hadn’t spoken.

  “I forecast trouble ahead. All this attention has turned your head. You’ll get yourself involved in a scandal, and we’ll all be dragged in after you. Remember what I’ve said, when your niece can’t find a husband, because no decent man will marry into a family that includes a wayward creature like Jane Norris.”

  “Jane Rutherford,” Hugh said coldly. He bowed briefly to Frederick, who looked like he’d sell his soul to be anywhere else but here. “Bacon, Susan’s right. It’s time you took her home.”

  Hugh stood beside Jane and took her hand. “Are you all right?”

  Feeling as if she’d been caught in a violent thunderstorm, Jane watched Susan sweep from the room. How could a night that began so auspiciously deteriorate into this mess?

  “Yes.” She paused. “No.”

  “Susan completely overreacted. She had no right to say what she did.”

  “Perhaps not.”

  “Definitely not. I would
have stepped in earlier, but you were fighting your corner without my help.”

  She drew a shaky breath. “A lot of what I said has been festering for a long time.”

  “Would you like to go home?”

  Go home like a whipped dog with its tail between its legs? Go home where she’d be alone with Hugh, and helpless to know what to do with this unwelcome, engulfing love that flooded every cell of her body? Go home where she’d have time and space to think about the emotional wilderness stretching ahead of her?

  “Good Lord, no,” she said decisively. “I want to stay here and dance the night away.”

  He looked startled. “You seemed a little…peaky when we came into supper. I don’t mind leaving, if you’d rather.”

  She tilted her chin at a jaunty angle and stuck a smile to her face. Peaky? She refused to be so pathetic. People might feel sorry for her now. They wouldn’t by the time the night ended, devil take them.

  “We have a waltz coming up, and I’m promised to Silas for the contredanse after supper,” she said with a wholly manufactured brightness. “I want to drink that champagne you brought. I want us to be the last to leave. Tomorrow, I want to dance again, then every night until we have to leave London.”

  *

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  *

  In the coach on the way back from the Oldhams’ ball, Hugh regarded Jane with a troubled frown. She sat beside him, hands lying limply in her lap and her attention focused on the street. He’d tried to take her hand when they left the ball, but she’d avoided him by making a great show of fiddling with her cloak.

  Something was wrong. He’d wager every penny on it.

  He thought back to those torrid, interrupted moments on the terrace. Until then, everything about the ball had been a grand success. She’d shone bright as a star in her daring red dress. He’d witnessed the ton’s astonishment when this radiant stranger entered their midst, then curiosity, and finally acceptance and approval.

  Before they went outside, she’d glowed with the inner fire that illuminated everything she did when her heart and soul were engaged. After they’d come inside, she’d still sparkled like a jewel. But the brilliance had turned feverish.