Chapter 40
Jane awoke unhappy.
It was early, not even eight, but she couldn’t stay abed, even though she hadn’t been able to sleep until after three.
And he hadn’t been home yet. As she dressed she found herself equally depressed and upset.
He had made love to her only yesterday afternoon, yet last night he had been with one or another of his mistresses.
The thought of him with Amelia was unbearable.
And then there was still the foul aftertaste of what had happened at the Criterion last night after her performance.
Jane expected to find him in the dining room breakfasting, and she was not disappointed.
This morning he looked up, his gaze hooded.
Chad, who was about finished, called out an enthusiastic greeting.
“Good morning,” she said to the boy, tousling his hair and kissing his cheek as she passed. He beamed.
She found the earl regarding her. Jane was shocked at the circles beneath his eyes. He looked as tired as she was, and she felt herself start to soften. With a distinct effort, she reminded herself that he had not come home last night until very, very late. She hugged her daughter and sat.
“Good morning,” the earl said.
“Good morning.” Jane was just as polite. Their gazes cautiously met, and both flew immediately apart.
Nicole was making a mess of bread and jam, up to her elbows in strawberry preserves, so Jane busied herself with rescuing her daughter from further disaster.
She was aware of the earl watching as she scolded the baby gently.
Nicole gurgled happily, then began banging the tray table. “Red, red,” she shouted.
“What does she want?” Chad asked, nose wrinkled in disgust.
“You must eat it, not play,” Jane admonished, handing her a new slice of toast and removing the sticky crumbled mess. “More bread.”
“Papa, may I be excused?” Chad was already standing.
The earl’s smile was gentle, and it reached his eyes. “Yes.”
Chad started to run, but the earl called him back. Sheepish, Chad gave his father a hug, then started to dart away again. “Chad! What about Jane?”
Chad grinned, raced to Jane, gave her a kiss and fled at a run.
“Study hard,” Jane called after him.
Nicole was jamming the bread into her mouth with gusto.
“She has a good appetite,” the earl remarked.
Jane’s gaze flew to his, skittered away. “Like her father.” There was silence, and she began blushing , thinking about the eari’s many appetites—his manly ones.
The earl toyed with the Times, darting more looks at her.
Jane studiously began filling her plate with food she did not want.
Out of the corner of her eye she glimpsed his strong, big hands, and she clearly recalled how they felt on her flesh.
She tried to recall his infidelities as well, but was too unnerved to become angry.
“May I?” she asked, pointing at the newspaper.
“Of course,” he said, handing it to her. He busied himself with pouring a fresh cup of coffee, then, on an afterthought, filled her cup for her. “Sorry.” He was blushing faintly, high on his cheekbones.
“It’s all right,” she said shyly, thrilled at the gesture.
Their gazes met, held. The earl was the first to glance away.
Jane nibbled toast and sipped coffee, thumbing through the Times. She was very aware of her husband and paid scant attention to the news-breaking headlines. Until a bold typeface in the midsection caught her eyes, and then she gasped.
FALLEN ANGEL!
It was a screaming headline. The story was accompanied by two separate illustrations of her and the earl.
Jane scanned the page and saw that it boasted all the sordid details of their stormy relationship.
That she had been, and was, his ward, that she was the mother of his year-old illegitimate daughter, that they were just married, that he consorted with his mistress and she with her manager and “very good friend.”
“What is it?” the earl asked sharply.
“Look!” Jane cried, pale, choked. “Look at this!”
The earl took the paper she shoved at him and began to read. He grew dark and grim.
“Last night they badgered me with disgusting questions about you and me, about Nicole, about the past!” Jane said vehemently.
“And the night before as well! The show was ready to close, but since our marriage we’ve had two full houses.
But they don’t come to see the play! They come to see the Fallen Angel!
I’m no longer an actress—I’m a freak show! ”
“I’m sorry,” the earl said harshly. “God, I’m sorry!”
She turned on him, letting loose all her frustration and anger. “How could you!” she cried, standing. “How could you take Nicole to the park yesterday? How could you!”
“Jane, she’s my daughter.”
“You could have warned me! We could have figured out what to do! Did you do it on purpose?”
“Nicole is my daughter. Not some damned secret to be kept hidden from the world! If I want to take her out I will!”
“I’ll never overcome the scandal! My career! I’m ruined!”
The earl was on his feet too. “What would you have us do? Hide? The way you were hiding?”
“Yes!” Jane shouted irrationally. “Yes! If you don’t care about humiliating me”—she thought of Amelia—“then at least spare a concern for your daughter!”
“Nicole is my concern!” the earl shouted. “I’ll be damned if I’ll deny her her place in this goddamn Society! It was her I was thinking of—this I can assure you!”
“Yes.” Jane was bitter. “You would think only of Nicole—and not of me!”
“Nicole is my daughter. I had every right to publicly claim her.”
“And ruin me! But you don’t care, do you? You’ve never cared!”
He froze then. “It will die down. There’s nothing else for them to dig up.”
“Die down,” she echoed grimly, flushed now. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one who’s ruined!”
He flinched. “Think again.”
Jane’s senses returned. He was as much a victim of the scandal as she was, maybe even more. After all, he’d been her guardian. They would blame him at least as much, if not more, for her downfall, for seducing her, his underage ward.
“I should have never married you. Damn it, I was selfish. I wanted Nicole, I didn’t think!”
That hurt—the confession that he’d wanted his daughter.
She saw him pace away, rigid with self-condemnation.
She suddenly regretted all her words and accusations, even if it hurt to know he cared only about Nicole and not about her.
She thought of how he had lived with scandal for the past six years—with scandal and darkness.
She hurried to him. “I’m the one being selfish.
Forgive me. I can handle this. You’re right. It will die down.”
He turned to her, eyes mocking. “What? A change of heart?”
She regarded him steadily, with compassion. She wanted to touch him, hold him.
Anger flared in his eyes. “Don’t pity me!”
“I don’t!”
But it was too late. He was already striding furiously from the room, and the doors slammed behind him like thunder.