Chapter Thirteen
Three Weeks Later
Jerome drove his curricle behind his sister’s chaise, escorting her and his niece to The Castle for the wedding.
My wedding! In a couple of hours, he would come face to face with Ava again and in less than twenty-four hours, they would be married.
A sensation very like panic was skirling around his veins, warring with the ache of longing in his heart to see her again and assure himself that she was well.
What was she thinking and feeling, and would he be able to tell?
A younger Ava had been transparent, wearing her heart on her sleeve, but grown-up Ava had learned to dissemble, hiding behind a mask of gaiety and frivolity.
That much he knew from observing her closely over the last two years.
But what lay behind that mask, he had been unable to penetrate.
Arrived at The Castle at last, he helped Letty and Sophie from the carriage and turned toward the steps. Robert and Sarah stood waiting at the top, but there was no sign of Ava. His heart jolted at this absence, and he wondered what it meant.
Rob was a little stiff and hauled him off to the library immediately.
He shut the door and, turning to Jerome, said abruptly, “Tell me about Charis Dunsenay.”
Jerome’s heart dropped as he scanned Robert’s face and saw the tightness round his eyes. Oh, God! His heart squeezed. “Who told you?”
“Mama.” Robert paced to the fireplace and turned. “Tell me the truth. What happened?”
Jerome took a breath. Robert was his friend, and he was marrying his sister. He deserved the truth. So, he told him.
Robert listened in silence, and at the end he said, “Mama’s version is different, but then her informant is Charis’s mother.”
Jerome smiled bitterly. “Does Ava know?”
Robert shook his head. “We haven’t told her.”
“Thank you.” Relief flooded Jerome’s chest.
“Hopefully she need never know.” Robert paused and then said quietly, “I am entrusting my sister to you. Don’t let me down.”
Jerome nodded, “I won’t. I told you—I love her.”
Robert smiled tightly. “And you learned a painful lesson.”
“I did.” Jerome took a breath trying to ease the iron band around his chest. “I’m sorry Rob, I never meant for this to happen.”
“It’s done now. It’s my fervent hope it will all work out for the best.”
“I certainly mean to do everything I can to make it so.”
Robert stepped up to him and offered him a brotherly hug. “Welcome to the family.”
Jerome closed his eyes and hugged his best friend, who had shown him more clemency than he deserved.
Jerome did not, in fact, see Ava until all the guests and family were gathered in the drawing room before dinner.
He was standing by the fire talking to Emrys and Annis, who was in the last weeks of her pregnancy, when Ava entered the room.
A dip in conversation alerted him, and he looked up from contemplating his boot absently and was transfixed.
She was wearing her favorite color, jonquil, and she looked exquisite.
But pale, he noted, and thinner than she ought to be.
The last three weeks had taken their toll on her.
Why did she look so wan and worn? Was she regretting her actions?
Had Robert been harsh to her? Even so, she stood straight backed with her chin up and a defiant expression on her face.
He felt a rush of pride in her strength and a feeling of protectiveness, wanting to shield her from the hurt he could see lurking in the back of her eyes.
She scanned the room and found him. Her mask almost slipped then.
He saw it in the flash of emotion quickly suppressed by a brittle smile, and his heart wrenched.
He walked toward her, conscious that every eye in the room was fixed on them.
They had absolutely no privacy for this first meeting after three weeks apart and so much left unsaid when she was whipped away from him at Ravenshaw, with no time to talk or for him to even reassure her that all would be well.
He bowed, she curtsied, and he took her hand and kissed it.
“Ava, are you well?”
“As well as you, I expect,” she said, looking up at him, with her clear-blue eyes slightly glassy. She hesitated and then said in a rush, “Did he make you do this?”
He shook his head and spoke roughly. “Of course not. In honor, I could do nothing else.”
“Of course. Honor. It’s all you men care about, isn’t it?” Her sharp tone wasn’t lost on him, and his skin prickled. What is wrong? He hadn’t expected her to be hostile. What happened that night? He recalled with fuzzy warmth her eager kisses, the press of her cold body against his.
“No. Not in this case, if you believe that is my only motive—”
She swallowed visibly and blinked. “I don’t know what to think.”
The dinner gong sounded at that moment, and he offered her his arm to escort her to the dining room. At least it seemed they were being permitted to sit together at dinner.
Seated beside him, she said, “I understand your sister is here. I had thought you were not close?”
“We were not used to be, but she requested I deputize for her husband as escort this year for Sophie’s come out—he’s been sent to America. We have spent more time together in the last three weeks than we have in years,” he admitted.
“Does she know?” she asked softly.
“Not all the details. She was delighted when I told her. Speak to her after dinner. She will welcome you like a sister, I promise. In fact, she would like your help with Sophie, if you would care to assist. Letty is expecting, and the pregnancy is trying at her age.”
“Oh!” Ava flushed faintly and her eyes softened. “Of course, I’d be delighted.”
She picked up her wineglass and swallowed a generous mouthful.
His eyes followed the line of her graceful neck, and he suppressed the ache of longing to press his lips to her soft skin.
He would have that right twenty-four hours from now.
A flood of heat invaded his body at the thought, and all the things he had been keeping at bay threatened to breach the dam he had placed in his head to keep them out.
He shoved back on it hard. He had to maintain some semblance of control.
Every eye and ear around the table was no doubt straining to catch their conversation.
He offered her a dish of poached chicken in white wine sauce, and she took a small serving.
“They’re all watching us, aren’t they?” she murmured, her eyes on her plate.
“Yes.”
“Robert is terrified I’ll do something outrageous.”
“Are you going to?”
She glanced up at him under her lashes, and he swallowed. His left hand was squeezing his fork so tightly, he was surprised he didn’t bend the handle.
“That depends on whether I’m provoked.”
“Ava—”
She smiled and reached for her wineglass again. “Don’t fret, I’m just teasing. I’ve promised to behave. If I don’t, I fear Robert will have an apoplexy. He’s already threatened to lock me up!”
“He’s what?” He kept his voice down with difficulty and watched her toying with the food. She’d barely eaten anything. Neither had he.
She smiled again and took another sip of wine.
“He never said such a thing!”
“He did. He said if I went near you before the wedding, he’d do just that. He doesn’t mean for us to be alone again until after we are safely married. He doesn’t trust me.”
There was some sense in that. He wasn’t sure his self-control could handle Ava in this mood.
She wasn’t the only one on a knife’s edge.
But he was older and should be able to control himself, even if she couldn’t.
“In the circumstances, that is probably sensible, but I don’t like him threatening you, and I will tell him so. ”
She looked up at him, startled. “You would defend me?”
“Of course. You’re going to be my wife, Ava. You’re my responsibility now.”
“Oh.” She looked away, but not before he caught the glint of moisture in her eyes. She was so close to breaking down. He covered her hand with his and squeezed.
“You’ve been through hell, haven’t you?” He spoke roughly.
“Yes.” She picked up her wineglass and took another sip.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured.
“It should be me that is apologizing to you, not the other way around. I forced you into this. It’s my fault.” She kept her chin up, but he could see what it was costing her.
He wanted desperately to take her in his arms and comfort her, but to do so on top of all that had gone before would just make bad worse.
“We will get through this together,” he said quietly.
She threw him a look of such heartfelt gratitude he almost lost control of himself and kissed her. She was so damned beautiful and vulnerable and sweet. He wanted to murder Robert for treating her so.
He then asked after her mare, Diana, and taking her cue from him, she accepted the change of subject and responded that Diana was in fine fettle. And they continued to discuss horseflesh for the remainder of the meal.
*
Retiring to her room later, Ava discovered to her fury that Robert had instructed her maid Hannah to sleep in her dressing room that night, so while he hadn’t locked her up, he had set a guard on her.
She allowed Hannah to prepare her for sleep, and climbing into the large bed alone for the last time, she reflected on the evening.
She had been in a dangerous mood when she entered the drawing room and met Jerome.
Seeing Jerome walk across the room to her, she thought her heart would leap from her chest. He looked so heartbreakingly gorgeous, even with and despite the heavy shadows beneath his eyes that spoke of broken sleep and perhaps excess.
Had he been drinking? If he had, he wasn’t drunk tonight.
When he took her hand, she wanted to fly apart and collapse into his arms. Instead, she took refuge in her simmering anger and forced herself to smile and pretend she wasn’t falling apart.
She had not meant to tell him of Robert’s threat, but she couldn’t help herself.
And when he said he would defend her, that they were in it together—her heart melted.
Only by following his lead and talking about their shared passion for horses was she able to stop herself from breaking down altogether.
They had been afforded no opportunity for private speech, so she was unable to tax him with the thing that Robert and Mama were refusing to tell her about his past, though she remained sure it wasn’t true.
Indeed, Rob seemed reconciled to the marriage now, so whatever it was, Rob didn’t credit it either, she must assume.
The knowledge lifted the last of the heaviness from her heart.
She retired early to ward off an incipient headache, brought on by too much wine with dinner on top of all the stress and worry that came before she finally got to see Jerome and talk to him.
Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough for her.
Once she was Jerome’s wife, she could escape from this house, which had been a beloved home and now felt like a prison of guilt and recrimination.
For while Rob seemed reconciled, the same couldn’t be said of Mama, who was still looking at her with sad, bruised eyes.
It hurt and put a damper on what should be a happy occasion.
To be out from under the disappointed gazes of her family seemed to be eminently desirable.
To be Jerome’s wife at last would be a dream come true, even if the circumstances under which she had achieved it were less than ideal.
She knew some nervousness. Not about the wedding night.
She anticipated that with excitement; she was confident Jerome would know what to do to make the experience pleasurable for them both.
No, what worried her was what came after that.
Did he, could he, care for her? Or was she the spoiled, selfish child to him that she seemed to be to everyone else?
Did he truly see her as a woman? A wife?
His words tonight had encouraged her a little to think that he might.
And could she be a good wife? She had no very clear idea of what that meant.
The examples she had, her mother and Sarah, even Annis and Emily, made her afraid that she couldn’t, for she wasn’t like any of them.
She tossed and turned beneath the covers, afraid that she didn’t know how to be a good wife, nor even what Jerome would desire in one. What was his ideal wife like? Was Isabella his ideal? If so, how very far from that picture of perfection was she?
Jerome, who never failed at anything, who was always immaculately turned out, who excelled at all sports and who was relentlessly competitive, who had impeccable manners, whose irresistible charm had broken a dozen hearts that she knew of, who was as at home in a ballroom as he was on the hunting field—what did he want in a wife?
A paragon of elegance and regal beauty like Isabella?
How could she, hoydenish, bouncy Ava, measure up to his no doubt exacting standards?
She had been so focused on her desire to marry him, she hadn’t thought much about what it would be like once she did, beyond a vague picture of the blissful pleasure she expected to find in his arms. They couldn’t make love all the time, though she hoped they would rather a lot.
So what else would their life together be?
She finally fell asleep in the middle of a muddled daydream about his kisses and touch and woke to her mother briskly pulling off her covers and commanding her to wake up.
“The wedding is at two o’clock, and we have a lot to do before then,” she said.