Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Three days passed where Andrew once again barely saw Jessamine. Just like when they first came to the house, she spent all her time in the nursery, barely eating and barely sleeping.
From what he could tell, there was nothing wrong with William, but her nightmare must have shaken her more than she would ever articulate to him.
When he did see her, entering William’s room to find her cradling the babe in her arms, eyes red-rimmed with exhaustion, it was to find the boy perfectly well and something haunted in her face as she looked at him.
He understood what it was like. When he fell into the depths of thinking about what he could have done if only he had been a better captain to his people—if he thought too much about all the men he had lost—then he felt as though he were going mad.
And if he could have done something to prevent someone else, another soldier, from dying, then he would.
But as the days passed, he watched as Jessamine became a shadow of herself, eaten away by her fear, and enough was enough.
“All right,” he said, entering the nursery and tapping the doorframe.
The sun had set several hours ago, and night had well and truly fallen on the city. If he were spending a quiet evening at home, it wouldn’t have been long before he would have retired to bed.
And lay away for hours thinking about Jessamine in this room.
Her head snapped up, and she stared at him in a daze. “Andrew.”
Her skin was pale, and her eyes were heavy with fatigue, all their dancing amber tones swallowed in weary brown. He wanted to bring her into his arms and hold her, as though that might protect her from her own thoughts.
Not that it would do her any good.
“Enough is enough,” he said. “We have plans tonight.”
“I accepted no plans,” she said.
“That’s because I made them on behalf of us both.” He gently pried William from her hands and handed him over to Lucy. “You need a break, Jessamine.”
“I need—”
“You need to get out of this room.”
“Not a ball,” she begged, resisting him as he took her hand and all but dragged her out of the room. “I don’t have a ball in me, Andrew. Not dancing and seeing the world. I can’t—”
“I know,” he told her, keeping his voice gentle. “I have something entirely different in mind. Do you trust me?”
She blinked up at him. “What sort of question is that?”
“Change into something that doesn’t smell of stale milk.” He gently urged her into her bedchamber, where he had already summoned her maid to attend her. “It doesn’t have to be a ballgown.”
“Andrew—”
“I know it’s not what you want, but this is what you need. And if you don’t trust me, then I will have to insist you listen to the wisdom of your husband.”
“Oh.” She glanced behind her, and the ghost of a smile touched her mouth. “It’s like that, is it?”
“It is,” he said firmly.
“What can I say to that?” She closed the door in his face, and he paced impatiently outside.
If she fell asleep now, there was little he could do, but remaining in the house—ready to be woken by William’s every cry—was not conducive to relaxing.
What she needed was to be amongst her friends.
What better way than at the Minerva Club?
If it hadn’t been for Rebecca, he would never have known about its existence, and while he didn’t know precisely how he felt about it, he did know it had been a place of refuge for Jessamine before she had taken on the burden of raising another woman’s child.
When eventually she reappeared, he felt as though his nerves had been strung tight. He took her hand and led her down the stairs to where a carriage awaited them. She gripped his hand with surprising strength, and didn’t let go even once they were inside the carriage.
“Tell me where we’re going,” she said, gazing up at him.
He cleared his throat, surprisingly moved by her plea. “It’s a surprise.”
“I truly am all right.” She placed her other hand over his, squeezing gently. “I know I probably alarmed you when I woke up from my nightmare, but—”
“You screamed.” He couldn’t prevent the bluntness of the words from searing the air. Every time he thought about that scream, the way it had left her mouth, so ragged and raw, it made his heart—his entire chest—plummet. “You kept screaming, and I couldn’t wake you up. You said you had lost him.”
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. He couldn’t take his eyes off it. “I’m sorry for disturbing you.”
“Don’t apologize for something like that.” He leaned forward, adjusting their grip so he now held her hand between his. “But you must know that when I hear my wife scream, I will always come to help.”
Her mouth softened. She opened and closed it a few times, as though searching for the right words to say and failing. If only he could see inside her head to know her thoughts—she was so sparing with her words, but he could see her thoughts racing.
He was just as guilty of that as she. He wanted her, but couldn’t tell her.
He felt guilty for the way he had forced her into this marriage, even if it was the best solution for them both, and he wished—more than anything—that he could release her into the world so she could find some happiness in it.
The life he had provided for them both was not good enough for her.
She deserved more than anything he had to give her. The title of duchess did not make up for his many shortcomings.
“I understand,” he told her, thinking through each word as he said it.
“I understand more than you might know what it’s like to…
feel responsible for something terrible.
And I know how tempting it is to do anything to put that right, or prevent it from happening again.
But if you sacrifice your health for that, then how can you be there for him when he does need you? You must sometimes put yourself first.”
He leaned back in the seat, aware he had revealed too much of himself.
“You are not the only one responsible,” he said, gentling his tone. She was staring at him as though she had never seen him before. “Let others take some responsibility. William is being cared for by so many. We all play a part. His welfare is not dependent wholly on you.”
It was like a dam had broken. Jessamine’s shoulders shook, then she put her hands over her face and sobbed into them as if her heart was breaking.
Andrew felt his own chest twist and crack in response, and he reached for her, pulling her close, holding her to his body.
This was similar in some ways to the way he’d held her after the nightmare, but then she had only been half-present.
The other part of her had been focused so intensely on William, it was as though she barely saw him.
Now, she was wholly there. She gripped his coat in her hands and pressed her face against his shoulder. He stroked her hair, murmuring nonsense.
This was not the role he was accustomed to. During war, his soldiers required action. A firm hand and utter certainty. Orders, commands, decisions.
Nothing like this. They did not cry before him; they did not ask to be held, and he’d never had to be gentle. Their faith in him was born of thinking he was some immovable rock.
How could he ever be what Jessamine truly needed?
What did one do in a situation like this?
“I’m sorry,” she gasped into his shoulder. “I just feel—I know it’s irrational… but I feel as though if I take my eyes off William for a second, something terrible will happen to him.”
“William is safe and with people who know far more about child-rearing than either you or I.” Andrew held her so tightly, he feared her delicate bones might crack, and released his hold.
She was so fragile in his arms. “Now he’s a little older; we should grow accustomed to leaving him at home on occasion so we can go on outings.
To balls. All the things that you said we ought to do to prevent the gossips. ”
And also because he desperately craved the way it had felt at Lady Marwich’s ball when he’d had her in his arms, and she’d looked up at him in that arch way.
It was the closest they had been since their marriage began, he felt.
Almost.
He could not bear to think about the two occasions that disproved it.
Jessamine hiccupped slightly as she leaned back and wiped her eyes. “I know, but how am I to do that?”
“I imagine by doing it, and gradually accustoming yourself to the fact that nothing terrible happens to William when you are absent.” He released her reluctantly, and nodded out of the window. “We’ve arrived.”
Jessamine’s jaw dropped as she spied the Minerva Club outside the carriage doors. Her heart still felt bruised and raw, as though Andrew had reached through her chest and pummeled it a little, but at the sight of the club, all her other emotions fell away.
He had taken her here.
“I thought you might require a distraction,” he said, opening the door and handing her down. “And the presence of your friends.”
“I—” She squinted at him. “You brought me here knowing what the Minerva Club is?”
“Yes.”
“And you are all right with me being here?”
“I am not in the habit of bringing my wife places and denying her entry.”
“Yes, but—” She didn’t know how to articulate her shock, or her delight.
It was as though Andrew saw her. He hadn’t taken her to some mindless society event where she would have to sit pretty and smile. He had brought her to the one place where she could be utterly herself.
The door opened, and the footman smiled upon seeing her. “Lady Jessamine. That is to say—ah.” His expression turned fearful as he glanced at Andrew.
Jessamine smiled at him. “I am now the Duchess of Knightford, so I believe ‘Lady’ has been superseded.”
“Your Grace,” he spluttered. “Welcome. Please, come in.”
Andrew loomed behind her. “I believe you already know me.”
“Y-Your Grace,” the poor boy said. He barely looked any older than her, and he was accustomed to the rather more laid-back atmosphere of the club, not Andrew’s awful formality.
Jessamine nudged him in the side. “Be nice, please.”
“I am perfectly nice.”
She huffed a breath as she followed the corridor through to the drawing room where the group usually met.
Sometimes they discussed notable events, sometimes they discussed how they might promote women’s rights, both politically and domestically, and other times, they were engaged in following their own whims.
Or, as was the case here, they were playing games together.
Lady Marwich slammed her hand down on the table as she won a flush, and gathered her tokens to herself. Temperance groaned aloud, tossing her cards to the table, and another lady glowered at Lady Marwich.
“How is it you always win, my lady?”
“Because, my dear, I am simply a better player.” Lady Marwich glanced up, saw Jessamine and Andrew standing in the doorway, and froze.
Shock passed over her face, then wicked delight.
“My dears,” she said, rising to greet them.
“What a delight it is to see you here. And on such a night. You look terrible, Jessamine dear.”
“Thank you.” Jessamine allowed Lady Marwich to kiss her cheek, wondering how obvious it was that she had been crying.
“And you,” Lady Marwich said, addressing the words to Andrew. “I had not expected to find you here, Your Grace.”
He bowed. “I thought Jessamine deserved to spend an evening with her friends.”
“Oh, but we could not expect you to leave us now,” Lady Marwich said. “Please, stay.”
“Stay?” he repeated.
Jessamine took his arm, unsure if she was more touched or amused by the idea of Andrew remaining in the Minerva Club. “Yes,” she said. “Please do stay.”
He glanced around the room, then back at her. After a second, his expression eased. Not quite a smile, but not that far off, either. Her stern, strict, uptight husband, capitulating just for her. It barely felt like it could be real. “Very well,” he said. “If you want me to stay, then I will.”
“Very good.” Lady Marwich clapped her hands. “That’s enough. We ought to play a more serious game.”
Temperance sidled to Jessamine’s other side. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said. “And with your handsome duke!”
“You can just refer to him as Andrew, you know,” Jessamine said.
“Oh no.” Temperance giggled. “He would never accept that. Look at him! He wants nothing more than to escape.”
Jessamine glanced up at him, amused by the way his eyes widened in what might have even been fear as all the ladies engaged in their disparate activities immediately came to stand beside Lady Marwich.
This often meant they would enter a debate, but Jessamine suspected she knew better, and so she did.
“Blind man’s buff,” Lady Marwich declared. “Clear the room.”
The room cleared with remarkable speed. Jessamine watched in amusement as Andrew drew closer to her. “Are you sure you want me to remain? I thought I would allow you some space to be with your friends.”
“Oh, no,” Jessamine said sweetly. “I’m very sure. You were so good as to bring me here. Why should you miss out on the evening’s games?”
“For your sake, I would.”
“I could never dream of denying you.” Jessamine laughed up at his face, carefully neutral. “Relax, darling. Nothing very terrible will happen.”
The endearment slipped from her lips unintentionally, and she saw the moment it hit, as his eyes widened in shock.
It was easier to slip from his side and engage in the planning of the game. Far easier than looking at his face and seeing too much.
Or worse, not enough.