Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
The weather could not have been more perfect for a picnic.
The morning rain had long since disappeared, leaving the countryside washed clean beneath a brilliant blue sky. Gentle breezes stirred the branches overhead, carrying the scent of wildflowers across the sprawling meadow that belonged to Lavinia’s family estate.
Blankets had been spread beneath ancient oak trees.
Servants moved quietly among clusters of guests with baskets of sandwiches, fresh fruit, pastries, and chilled lemonade.
Laughter drifted through the warm afternoon as children chased hoops across the grass while older ladies settled beneath parasols to exchange the latest gossip.
Jane stepped down from the carriage, accepting Hector’s offered hand.
He helped her onto the grass with the same quiet attentiveness he showed in private, though now it unfolded beneath dozens of curious eyes.
His fingers lingered around hers for only a moment before propriety required him to let go. Still, the warmth remained.
“You look pleased,” Hector observed.
Jane smiled up at him. “It has been some time since I’ve attended an event without feeling as though the entire room wished to dissect my life.”
“I cannot promise they won’t attempt it today.”
“They undoubtedly will.”
“Fortunately,” he replied dryly, “they must now do so through a duke.”
She laughed. “I suppose that offers a certain advantage.”
“I like to think so.”
Before either could say more, Lavinia hurried toward them, skirts gathered in one hand.
“There you are!” she exclaimed, embracing Jane warmly. “I was beginning to think married life had already made you forget your oldest friend.”
“I should never dare.”
“I hoped not.” Lavinia stepped back with an approving smile. “You look positively radiant.”
Jane felt herself blush. “I’ve only been married a little over a week.”
“I know.” Lavinia’s grin widened as she glanced toward Hector. “I imagine that’s precisely why.”
Jane nudged her friend’s arm. “Lavinia.”
“What?”
“You are impossible.”
“I’ve always been impossible.”
Hector inclined his head politely. “Lady Lavinia.”
“Your Grace.” She regarded him with exaggerated seriousness. “I should warn you that Jane and I have been conspiring together since we were girls.”
“I had already suspected as much.”
“Oh?”
“She has inherited your talent for winning arguments.”
Jane looked at him in mock offense. “I do not always win.”
“No,” Hector agreed. “You simply continue until everyone else surrenders.”
Lavinia laughed so hard she nearly dropped her fan. “I like him, Jane.”
“I’m beginning to question why.”
“Because he’s the only gentleman I’ve ever met who can match your wit.”
Jane rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t suppress her smile. A short while later they joined the rest of the guests beneath the shade of the trees.
Lady Ashcombe insisted Jane sample her famous strawberry tarts.
Sir William recounted an absurd story involving an escaped hunting falcon that had landed on a bishop’s head during a sermon, leaving nearly everyone on the blanket laughing.
Even Ambrose appeared before long, settling comfortably beside Hector with a glass of lemonade.
“I must say,” Ambrose remarked, surveying the gathering, “this is considerably more civilized than our usual adventures.”
Hector looked at him. “I fail to see how nearly being stabbed compares unfavorably with cucumber sandwiches.”
Ambrose pretended to consider the matter. “The sandwiches are admittedly excellent.”
Jane smiled into her teacup. She had grown unexpectedly fond of Ambrose over the past few weeks. His humor possessed an easy warmth that balanced Hector’s quieter reserve.
At one point, Lavinia persuaded several guests into a friendly game of lawn bowls. Jane joined willingly. To her satisfaction, she defeated Ambrose twice.
“I demand a rematch,” he declared.
“You’ve already had one.”
“Then another.”
“I fear you’ll only embarrass yourself further.”
Hector folded his arms. “I would advise surrender.”
Ambrose looked between them dramatically. “You’ve become unbearable as a married couple.”
Jane laughed. “We’ve scarcely begun.”
“I’m already outnumbered.”
As the afternoon wore on, the conversation shifted naturally among the guests.
Eventually Lady Pennington smiled toward Jane. “I confess, Your Grace, it is delightful seeing you so settled.”
Jane returned the smile politely. “Thank you.”
“The duke has made an excellent match.”
“I consider myself fortunate.”
“As do we all.” The older woman looked knowingly between husband and wife. “Now we need only hope for a nursery before too terribly long.”
Jane nearly choked on her tea. Several ladies smiled approvingly.
One gentleman added cheerfully, “The duchy could certainly use an heir.”
Another nodded. “Strong families are built quickly.”
Jane laughed softly, hoping to steer the conversation elsewhere. “I believe it is rather early to begin discussing children.”
“Perhaps,” Lady Pennington agreed. “But newlyweds always inspire such thoughts.”
Jane smiled as graciously as she could. “We have only just begun learning how to be husband and wife.”
“A fair point.”
The conversation drifted onward almost immediately. Yet something had changed. Jane felt it before she even looked. She turned toward Hector. His expression remained perfectly composed.
Anyone else would have thought nothing of it, but she had come to know him. The slight tightening of his jaw. The way his fingers rested motionless against his glass. The distant look settling briefly in his gray eyes. Something about the conversation had affected him.
She wasn’t certain why. He noticed her watching. For an instant, their eyes met across the picnic blanket. His features softened almost immediately, and he offered her the smallest reassuring smile. It was enough to tell her he was all right. Not enough to convince her that nothing was wrong.
Jane returned the smile, though curiosity settled quietly beside it.
She had the distinct feeling that, beneath the bright summer afternoon and easy laughter surrounding them, Hector was carrying a thought he had no intention of sharing.
The carriage ride home was quieter than the journey to the Pratt estate had been.
Hector had remained perfectly courteous throughout the remainder of the afternoon, speaking with Ambrose about Parliament, complimenting Lady Ashcombe’s gardens, even joining one of the gentlemen for a leisurely walk around the lake. Anyone else would have declared him entirely himself.
Jane knew better.
The silence followed them through the front doors of Sunderford House. Their butler relieved Hector of his hat while another servant accepted Jane’s gloves.
“Would Your Grace care for tea?” the butler asked.
“Later,” Hector answered. He was already turning toward the staircase.
Jane watched him take several steps before speaking. “Hector?”
He paused. “Yes?”
“Would you come with me for a moment?”
He hesitated only briefly before nodding.
She led him toward the blue drawing room overlooking the gardens. The evening sun streamed through the windows, painting the walls in warm gold.
Once the door had closed behind them, she turned to face him. “What is the matter?”
His expression remained calm. “Nothing. I assure you, Jane...”
“No.” She stepped closer. “You’ve scarcely spoken since Lady Pennington mentioned children.”
A flicker crossed his face. It disappeared almost immediately. “So that is what this is about.”
She nodded gently. “Is it?”
For a long moment he said nothing. She waited. Finally, he exhaled. “I suppose.”
Relief mingled with concern. “I knew it.”
“It is hardly worth discussing.”
“It is to me. We haven’t even discussed children,” Jane said.
He looked toward the window instead of at her. “You asked whether I wanted children.”
“I did.”
“I’ve never truly considered it.”
Jane blinked. “Never?”
He shook his head. “When Father died...” His voice trailed away before continuing. “Everything became about Evan. I assumed Evan would marry first.”
“Hector...”
“I thought he would build the family.” His gaze remained fixed outside. “I simply intended to make certain he had the chance.”
Jane’s heart tightened. “You’ve spent your entire life looking after him. You’ve already proven you can love someone selflessly. Evan is living proof of that. You practically raised him.”
“I merely did what was necessary.”
“No.” She smiled softly. “You loved him.”
Silence settled between them.
“He survived because of you.”
Hector looked away again. “I wasn’t always enough.”
“You were,” Jane insisted.
“He still disappeared.”
“You protected him every way you could.” She reached for his hand. “I believe you’d be a wonderful father.”
Something vulnerable flickered across his face. Then it vanished. “You give me too much credit.” His voice had grown quieter. “I knew how to care for Evan because he was already there.”
Jane searched his face. “A child isn’t so different.”
“It is entirely different.”
“You would learn.”
“What if I failed?” The question emerged so softly that it barely sounded like Hector at all.
Jane’s chest ached. “You won’t.”
“You cannot know that.”
“I do.”
He shook his head. “I’ve never thought beyond my brother.”
She smiled sadly. “You don’t have to anymore.”
She stood there for another moment, hoping he would say something else. Anything. Instead, he stared toward the gardens. His shoulders seemed heavier than they had that morning.
She spoke quietly. “I’ve always wanted a family. I’ve dreamed about children since I was a little girl.”
“They would be fortunate to have you as a mother.”
“I think...” She smiled faintly. “I think you’d surprise yourself if you had your own children.”
He did not answer. The silence lingered until it became impossible to ignore. Jane felt herself losing him again behind the walls he had spent years building.
She tried once more. “We don’t have to decide anything now.”
Still nothing. Only another distant nod. Defeat settled slowly inside her. There was nothing left to say.
“I think...” she whispered, “...I’ll retire for the evening.”
He finally looked back at her. “Very well.”
Jane forced a small smile. “Good night, Hector.”
“Good night, Jane.”
She left the drawing room without looking back. As she climbed the staircase, her heart felt unexpectedly heavy. She had thought marriage would make it easier for them to speak about anything.
Instead, she had discovered that even now there were places inside Hector that remained locked. And for the first time since their wedding, she wondered whether she would ever find the key.
For the better part of a week, Jane scarcely saw her husband. Not because they quarreled.
If Jane broke her fast early, Hector had already left for parliament. If she lingered in the library during the afternoon, a servant would quietly mention that His Grace had gone riding.
By evening, he was often buried in his study with correspondence spread across his desk, and when he finally retired, she was already asleep, or at least pretending to be.
The distance was invisible to everyone else. To Jane, it was impossible to ignore. She missed him.
Not simply his presence, but the easy conversations they had begun to share, the stolen smiles across a room, and the quiet comfort of existing beside one another without speaking.
It felt lonely.
By the sixth day, she found herself accepting Lavinia’s invitation for tea with far more enthusiasm than she ordinarily might have.
Lavinia greeted her with an embrace before either of them had properly entered the drawing room.
“You look miserable.”
Jane managed a weak smile. “I was hoping I concealed it better.”
“You’ve never concealed anything from me.”
The familiar room, scented with fresh roses and bergamot tea, felt wonderfully unchanged. Jane settled onto the sofa while Lavinia poured tea with practiced ease.
“So,” Lavinia said, handing her a cup. “Tell me everything.”
Jane stared into the swirling amber liquid. “I think I’ve made a dreadful mistake.”
Lavinia’s eyebrows shot upward. “You married the duke. That was hardly a mistake.”
“No.” Jane sighed. “Not marrying him.”
“Then what?”
She hesitated. “We spoke about children.”
Understanding dawned immediately across Lavinia’s face. “Oh.”
“It wasn’t even an argument.”
“No?”
Jane shook her head. “I merely asked whether he wanted them.”
“And?”
“He said he’d never thought about it. That Evan had always been his whole world.”
Lavinia nodded slowly. “That sounds like him.”
“I told him he’d make a wonderful father.”
“And?”
“He simply... retreated.” Jane wrapped both hands around her teacup. “He does that sometimes. He closes a door, and no matter how gently I knock, he will not open it.”
Lavinia was quiet for a moment. “Has he been unkind? Cold?”
Jane considered the question. “No... not exactly.”
“Worse?”
Jane gave a small, sad laugh. “Absent.”
Her friend reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “My dear, men like the duke survive by building walls. You have already climbed over more of them than anyone else ever has.”
“It doesn’t feel that way.”
“It rarely does.”
Jane looked up. “What if I asked too much of him?”
“I doubt it.”
“What if I frightened him?”
Lavinia smiled gently. “Then let him be frightened for a little while.”
Jane frowned. “You think he’ll come back?”
“I do.”
“What makes you so certain?”
“Because I’ve watched the way that man looks at you.”
Jane felt warmth creep into her cheeks.
“He loves you far too much to stay away forever.”
Jane wished she possessed her friend’s confidence.
Still, as they continued talking, laughing over lighter subjects for a while, the heaviness in her chest eased just enough for her to breathe again.
Perhaps Lavinia was right. Perhaps Hector simply needed time.
Jane only hoped that, when he was ready to lower his guard once more, she would still be waiting exactly where he’d left her.