Chapter 17
Seventeen
Of all the sentences Jane had imagined the Duke saying to her.
“I owe you so many apologies, I do not know where to begin,” was not one of them.
Though she could not disagree with him. This marriage was proving to be a catastrophe.
She needed to apologize for accepting his offer.
Could an annulment be made? She had read about them, and they had witnesses enough that until this very moment they had not been alone even for a minute.
Of course, if they did so, she would ruin his life, as there was little chance he could gain another wife in the few days that remained before the deadline.
Everything she heard from Michael indicated his half-brother would make a despicable duke and disappoint all who relied on him.
She had agreed to the marriage. She had agreed to produce an heir. She had said vows before God and witnesses. She must see this through. She raised her eyes to look at him. Nothing of the anger she heard in the library remained. His shoulders slumped slightly as if tired or defeated. Perhaps both.
“May I come in?” The Duke’s question was a bit late in coming.
Not trusting her voice, she nodded.
“The moment you left the library, even before I fully realized you were not part of the household staff, I knew I must apologize, at least through Mrs. Harding, for my tirade. Though it is little excuse for my actions, I have not slept but four or five hours since I saw you last, and in my muddled mind I mistook you for a maid. As I was preparing to discuss news of a delicate nature, I wished for the staff not to be present.” As he spoke his voice remained soft and low.
Not at all the strong, sure voice he used the day of the proposal.
Jane looked at her lap. The plain gray cotton of mediocre weave, the slightly worn cuffs of her long sleeve bearing record that the dress was far from new.
Nor was the fabric fit for the clothing of a duchess.
She pinched the soft cloth between her fingers.
“Your mother mistook me for a maid this morning as well. This dress has always been a favorite of mine, yet I can see where the color might lead to confusion.”
“I should have looked closer, not just at your clothing. I should have looked at you.” His voice was calm. Like when a groomsman spoke to a new foal. “And I never should have raised my voice so.”
As he spoke, he moved closer. “As for my unavoidable departure on our wedding day. I wish it had not been necessary.”
His voice was so full of pain that Jane looked up to see his face. “Michael said your leaving had something to do with my father.”
“Yes. I wish to give a full explanation to all involved, which is why we were to meet in the library.”
“Did you give one?”
“Not yet. I needed to find you first, and to tell you how sorry I am.”
“I understand you did not intend to yell at me.” Jane winced at the uncertainty in her voice.
“Will you come with me?” The Duke thrust out his hand.
Jane knew he was offering his hand to help her up. However, that part of her which anticipated each strike of her father’s hand, recoiled until her shoulder bumped the window. She was helpless to stop the reaction.
Confusion filled the Duke’s face.
Jane covered her mouth, realizing the insult she had given. She had refused a duke’s offer. More importantly, she refused her husband’s offer. Wives did not act in such a way. New tears threatened as embarrassment and remorse filled her. She dropped her hand. “I am sorry. I am sorry.”
The Duke sank to his haunches in front of her, his hand on the bench only inches from her knee. “Jane?”
His voice was soft and soothing. He would not slap her, she knew that, how she knew, she was not sure. Still her body trembled out of fear born of habit. How disappointed he must be to discover how weak she was? She willed herself to stop but could not.
“Jane?” Without any command, he begged her to look at him. With determination, she looked. His eyes, almost as sad as she felt.
“I did not mean to startle you.”
“I,” she had to suck in a breath before continuing, “I know. I only—” How could she explain?
There was no logic to her shrinking back to protect herself.
Multiple people told her he had never raised a hand to the late duchess, and she treated him most abominably.
Even Father had not raised a hand to her while delivering the one and only forced apology he delivered. He waited until later.
“I should not have moved so quickly. I only meant to offer my hand so we could join my mother, Michael, and Philippa.”
“I know.” Why could she not say anything more intelligent?
Slowly he held his hand out, palm up. An invitation.
Jane set the yarn with its hopeless knots aside.
She tried to hide the fortifying breath she breathed in and set her ungloved hand in his.
The first time they touched skin to skin.
The heady feeling described in books at such a moment did not come.
His hand remained under hers, steady, firm, and very masculine.
No tingling, no sparks, and best of all, no knot of fear clenching in her belly.
She raised her eyes to his, relieved to see no anger there.
Though what she saw, she could not name, reassuring and hopeful?
Kind? Concerned? No one had ever quite looked at her that way before.
The corner of the Duke’s mouth curved up, not quite a full smile.
He slowly rose, keeping his eyes on her as if to reassure her.
She accepted his offer, standing as well, her head just below his shoulder.
He was so tall, and strong. If he wished, he could…
But his storm-blue eyes clearly conveyed his wish for her to trust him.
“Perhaps later today, once I have rested, we can talk?” He asked as he led her from the room.
Jane nodded. She could not answer in any other way, as words eluded her.
“I have frightened you twice today, please know that was not my intention.”
“I know.” Jane possessed more words in her vocabulary. She spoke, all be it poorly, three languages and could read two more. Yet only one phrase could pass her lips.
“Would you like a moment in your room?” he asked as they left the sewing room. “I could send for your maid.”
“I will only need a minute and a cool cloth.” There, a sentence, even if she said the wrong thing.
Which from the rise of the Duke’s brows it was.
She should want her maid, should she not?
Using one to do what she could do for herself seemed so useless.
“I do not want to keep Phil waiting any longer, she longs to get home to her son.”
Jane hurried into her sitting room and through to the bedroom.
The young maid jumped up from an invisible spot on the floor she cleaned. “Shall I call your abigail for you?”
“No need, I only need a moment to—” She didn’t need to explain to anyone, did she? “to—wash.” There would be a clean pitcher of water on the stand in her dressing room.
The maid followed her. “The water is not warm, Your Grace.”
“All the better. Cool water is exactly what I need.” Jane felt for the poor maid. Would she get in trouble for not calling the abigail? Jane held the cool cloth to her eyes. The instant relief cooled her skin.
The maid stood silently, her hands fluttering as if she needed to be occupied.
“You may call my abigail now. Inform her I shall return shortly and would like to change into something more appropriate.” There, that was something a duchess would ask her maid to do.
The maid curtsied, relief on her face.
“What is your name? I am afraid I have not learned everyone’s yet.”
“Martha, Your Grace.”
“Thank you, Martha. I expect to return within the half-hour.”
Jane found the Duke waiting for her in the corridor. That wasn’t entirely proper, was it? Should she have invited him into her sitting room? So many things she did not know.
He offered her a smile and his arm. An invitation. A choice. His eyes plead for her trust. Plain Jane no man will ever love you. While true, at least this man cared enough to apologize.
She set her hand on his arm. Together, they proceeded to the library.
The annoyed looks he received from his mother and Michael as they entered the library were exactly what Richard expected.
Philippa did not look his way at all as she studied her sister. Seemingly satisfied, she sat back. “Join us for tea, the pot was just freshened.”
Richard led Jane to the sofa, the only seating option left for the two of them. He could have sworn there had been another chair in the grouping. Five seats were such an odd number for a proper conversation. Jane sat and his mother poured the tea.
Richard cleared his throat. “You no doubt wonder what could have been of such import that I left my wedding celebration before it began. Michael knew but little of the situation. Still, he volunteered to go in my stead. It was tempting to leave the matter in his capable hands. However, now that I have returned, I know I made the correct but difficult choice in going myself and leaving all of you to Michael’s care. ”
Icy glares from his mother and Philippa begged him to reconsider that statement. Richard could not.
“While under escort to his estate in Yorkshire, where Lightwood is to remain until he is summoned to London, he escaped my guards. I felt the matter to be of the utmost urgency. Considering how long it took us to find Lightwood and the difficulties that followed, I do not regret my choice to go. Though I wish with all my heart my journey had not been necessary. When I reached the coaching inn where he vanished, I received evidence showing that Lightwood sent a letter to my half-brother informing him of my nuptials.”
Everyone except Jane gasped.
His new wife looked at the others. “Why is a letter so bad?”