Chapter Thirty-Five
Janelle spent the next day alone. Mrs. Carr and Mary did their best, but neither even lived on the grounds.
Lord Benedict slept in the room next to his solar and closeted himself with Gabriel.
And so she explored, walking carefully over the ruins and finding the quiet surprisingly helpful.
By late afternoon, she had come to three decisions.
First, she had married Lord Benedict and would therefore learn to be a proper wife to him.
Second, she loved Gabriel but had chosen another. Therefore, she would treat him with as much friendship as was possible for as little time as possible.
Third, it was time to prepare for her wedding night.
That last one had her insides quaking, but she gained nothing by quivering in maidenly fear. Indeed, she was more knowledgeable than most brides of her station and therefore, would face it with calm.
She was able to bathe in a nearby stream and found the cold water bracing. She applied an herbed oil she’d been given from her aunt to soften her skin and dressed in a flowing gown for the evening meal. Not too formal, not too casual.
And completely wasted.
Lord Benedict arrived late, pressed a kiss to her forehead, then apologized as he showed her a messenger bag that apparently contained several documents that required his immediate attention.
His expression was pale, his manner excruciatingly awkward, and his gaze tracked to the bottle of wine.
He didn’t touch it but asked Mrs. Carr to bring him food and drink in his solar.
Then he headed for the door while she stared at him in shock.
“My lord,” she called. “This will not do.”
He froze before leaving the room. “I know,” he said, in a tone low enough that she barely heard him. Then he straightened his shoulders and turned back to her. “I shall call upon you tonight. Everything will settle after that.”
“I hope…” Her voice trailed away. Whatever she hoped was left unvoiced as he rushed away.
She slumped in her chair, losing all her carefully constructed poise.
She’d always seen Lord Benedict as a larger-than-life person.
He’d seemed important in the diplomatic circles.
Several at her wedding breakfast had called him exceedingly intelligent, saying he had a strategic mind and a biting wit.
He’d been kind and unfailingly generous when dealing with her.
But the man who jerked toward wine bottles and waved messenger bags at her was nothing like the person she’d known before.
Her husband seemed anxious, even graceless.
And how could she blame him? She felt exactly the same anxiety.
As each minute ticked by, she thought more and more about the intimacy to come.
She knew it wouldn’t be the passionate encounter that she’d experienced with Gabriel, and the less she thought about that, the better.
But would the act with Benedict hurt? Would he be aggressive?
Perfunctory? She hoped he was kind, but she had no idea what to expect from this new version of him and she was too nervous to confront him.
She waited, which was not at all in her nature.
He arrived well after dark. She’d kept the fire well-tended, so the room was pleasantly warm even though she stood near the open window.
She turned as he approached. Her aunt had told her to allow the moonlight to land upon her body in such a way that she seemed to glow in profile.
And as the night was warm, she had discarded all but a thin chemise.
“It never fails,” Aunt Esmee had said. But she hadn’t said what would fail or what would work. The implication, however, wasn’t that her husband would blanche and freeze one step inside the door.
He did not wear a night shirt but loose trousers and a tied robe on top. He wore no shirt and when he braced himself on the wall, the tie released, and she saw his naked chest beneath. His body was lean and trim with little fat on him, and she approached him with a trembling smile.
“My lord—” she began but stopped when he held up a hand to stop her. He stood before her in the most casual pose, but his skin was pale, and she noted that awkwardness still dogged his movements.
“I apologize, my dear, but this cannot go in the usual way.”
“I’m sorry?”
He fidgeted before her. Not in any obvious way, but she was learning his movements, and he was definitely anxious.
“I thought it might be possible. Weeks ago, when I proposed, I thought myself able. But then I saw the way you looked at one another. We had just spoken our vows. We had kissed. And your eyes went to him.”
A cold shiver went down her back. Shock and horror that he knew. He knew! “Benedict, I would never betray you. I… He…”
He stepped up to her and pressed a finger to her lips. “Now is not the time for lies, Janelle.”
“It is not a lie!” she cried, but he had already left her. He crossed to the bedroom door, his heavy tread thumping in a steady rhythm. In her head, it sounded like the death knell of her marriage. They hadn’t even had a wedding night, and now…
He knew.
Then he opened the bedroom door and called up the stairs. “Gabriel!” It was a command that rang louder than any trumpet. An order across the battlefield. A demand from superior to subordinate, and Janelle shrank into herself at the sound.
What had she done?
Gabriel appeared a bare moment later. He moved as if at attention for all that he was in his shirtsleeves.
He came to the door and his gaze hopped quickly to where she stood, her arms wrapped protectively across her chest. He had seen every inch of her before, but now she hid herself from everyone.
The confusion of the moment made her feel so small.
He took a step toward her, then abruptly froze. “My lord?”
Benedict shook his head. “Go to her,” he said gently.
If he’d spoken harshly, Janelle would have run, though she had no idea where.
She knew a man’s fury and would not stand still for it as she had with her father.
But Benedict’s words were neither slurred with drink nor cold with fury.
Indeed, his very gentleness brought her head up and gave her the strength to speak.
“This is not his place,” she said, though the words cut her as she spoke. “This is our marriage bed, Benedict. He—”
“He will have to stand in my stead.”
The words made no sense to her. It was as though her mind stopped the sound from any meaning. Not so, apparently, for Gabriel. He rocked back as if punched, and the horror in his expression cut her to the quick.
“Benedict, no!”
Her husband nodded. “It must be. I cannot do it.”
“The hell—” Gabrial said, the words strangled.
Benedict shook his head, his expression tortured but no less firm. “I had it in the back of my mind from the beginning,” he said to Gabrial. “You are the man I love most in this world, and she is the perfect woman for you. All I need do is step away and allow nature to take its course.”
“Do not blame this on nature,” Gabriel snapped. “You cannot have meant… Even you would not…”
Benedict shrugged. “Maybe not. But here we are.”
Janelle looked between the two of them, her mind twisting and her breath choked. She didn’t understand all the words, but one thing was clear. This was her wedding night, and her husband had just refused her. But why? What had she done wrong?