My Dearest Friend (Books We Love Regency Romance) (26 page)

“Of course it is
, how could you doubt it? The fact remains though that Robert would.”

“You have given him cause?” enquired Regina, frowning. She would not have believed it of the young girl who sat so quietly before her.

“He may believe that I have, but I swear to you that I am innocent. I could never betray him. I love him too much.” She hid her face in her hands as the tears came in torrents.

“Come, my dear, do not distress
yourself so,” pleaded the dowager, rising and placing an arm about Jane’s shoulders. She raised her out of the chair and led her to sit beside her on the couch. “You must tell me all. What tangle is this that has you so distressed? Surely there is something that can be done? Whatever is amiss, I am sure it is of his own making. Men can be such gudgeons at times! Do stop crying, child, or I will never make any sense of what you are saying. There, take my handkerchief too, yours has become quite sodden.”

Jane could not but give a faint smile. “You must forgive me, Regina, it is not my intention to burden you with my troubles, but if truth be told, it would be such a great relief to tell you, and I am sure you will understand.” So she told her all and the dowager listened in rapt silence uttering only the occasional cry of concern at each twist and turn of the tale, eventually taking Jane into her arms and allowing her to cry unrestrainedly on her breast.

“Men can be such complete and utter fools at times, my dear,” she sympathized, attempting to allay at least some of her fears. “They must play this superior all knowing being who is little more than a petulant child and if they had their true deserts they would be treated as such. They play their games of revenge and retribution without a single thought for those being wounded and trampled in the process.”

“Robert is not at all like that, he is good and kind and…”

“Pho! child, they are all the same to varying degrees, some admittedly better than others, Robert on the whole being one of their numbers but I have known him too long not to be aware of his faults. I must admit to a liking for him nonetheless and it would break my heart to see him wounded, but I am also aware of the great injustice to you that he is perpetuating. Something must be done to bring this matter to an end. Your condition is something that will not be hidden.”

“Indeed, my waist thickens already,” chuckled Jane weakly, as she raised herself to a sitting position. “Do you think it is possible that we could resolve the situation? I swear it is driving me to contemplate all manner of things. If only we could return to how it had been just a short time ago, this babe would bring such joy to our lives. We longed for a child.”

“Then something must be done,” averred her ladyship. “Could you not explain to him as you have just done to me?”

“He would not listen. He becomes too passionate and terrifies me.”

“Then it must not be known that I know anything of the matter, indeed my nephew would not welcome my intrusion. I must not be seen to interfere, but if nothing is resolved and you find yourself in an invidious situation, I offer you a safe haven. Come to me and we will see what is to be done.”

“
Thank you, Regina, but I cannot embroil you in my problems,” Jane sighed, hiccupping on a sob and attempting at some composure. “I must find a way out of this tangle, and before too long.”

“
Why don’t you come and stay with me for a few days whilst your husband is at Stovely,” said the dowager, as if reaching a decision. “We are both in need of company other than our own. Indeed, it would do me good to have conversation with other than those of my own age. They bore me!”

***

So it was that Jane went to stay with Lady Bannington for a few days and His Grace the Duke of Lear arrived home with an extremely tired and irritable Sophie in his arms to an empty house! He had not believed Jane’s avowal that she did not want the babe brought to London, believing it to be the pique of the moment and not her true feelings as she doted on the child as did he. The journey had seemed twice as long as usual, even though Hannah did what she could to amuse the child, there seemed to be no pleasing her and he had wished for Jane’s calming influence.

Being informed by Deakin of his wife’s visit, the duke told Hannah to take Sophie to bed but to have her prepared for an outing in the morning when he would make his return known to his wife. Harry had expressed a desire to return with him to Blake House but he had made his excuses, having no wish that others should be made aware of the situation that existed at that moment in time.

Hoping that the few days apart had done something to appease his wife’s mood, as it had his, he was prepared to renew his efforts at a reconciliation. He believed it only a matter of time before she could be won over and was certain in his own mind that there was no obstacle too great to overcome. Much soul searching had revealed that he could forgive anything if only she would confide in him, trust him as she had done before this dreadful tangle.

Going to his room to change, he decided to dine at his club, for without his wife’s presence, the house was unbearably empty and he was in need of company to divert his thoughts from uncertainties. Once dressed however, he decided to call on Sir Richard thinking he might bear with him. After the meal perhaps they could try Brookes or Whites, either providing the necessary atmosphere, realizing that the hardened gaming hells did not hold the attraction that they once had.

***

The following morning the duke arrived at Lady Bannington house shortly after eleven. Dispensing with Hannah’s services, he carried Sophie in his arms, managing to keep her entertained the whole of the while.

“There is no need to announce us, we are quite able to announce ourselves,” he told the footman, who would have ushered them into the dowager’s presence, and so saying he thrust open the morning room door and made his entrance.

Startled,
and not being used to so abrupt an intrusion, both Jane and the dowager turned to face the door and at sight of her husband and his ward, Jane came quickly to her feet.

Placing Sophie on her feet before him he smiled indulgently as he allowed her to trot unsteadily across the room toward his wife.

Reaching out her arms, Jane lifted the babe high and held her head against her cheek so that the sunshine curls danced against her face, hiding her emotions.

“As you see, we return,” said the duke, smiling as he advanced into the room, and taking both into his embrace dropped a light kiss onto his wife’s brow. Retaining them within the circle of his arm, he turned toward his aunt.

“Forgive the intrusion, Regina,” he said, “but as you can see, I was impatient to see my wife.” Indicating Sophie, his smile widened as he said, “And so too was this little miss. Without Jane’s influence she becomes quite unruly and terror reigns in the nursery.”

All the while he kept up the banter he watched his wife’s face from the corner of his eye, eager to see her reaction to his return. However, she devoted her time to Sophie and would have sat down and placed her on her lap, but he retrieved her from her arms and instead placed her on his own knee as he took his seat opposite the better to continue his scrutiny.

“I declare you are a changed man,” chuckled the dowager, as she watched Sophie absorbed in the task of untying the duke’s meticulously arranged neck cloth, her actions being allowed to continue unchallenged. “Allowing her such liberties, one would suspect you of doting on the child, Robert.”

The duke smiled indulgently.
“There’s no doubt about that. She has taken us all by storm, has she not, my love?”

“
Of a certainty,” responded Jane, eager that nothing should appear amiss. “She has become the light of our lives, though I must admit she is somewhat spoiled by everyone. She conquers all who cross her path. Even Proctor is seen to indulge her and he is a man one would not suspect susceptible to feminine wiles.”

“Neither would one have suspected Robert, but he seems to have succumbed,”
chortled her ladyship. “Never have I witnessed such a change in a man. Where are your toplofty ways now, sir, I would ask? What now of yourself consequence?”

“I must confess to being conquered by my girls,” he replied smiling, attempting to force his wife to meet his gaze. “I must admit, no lamb could have been more eagerly led to the slaughter than I, but I am content. I could wish for no more. I would never have believed that family life would suit me so exactly, indeed I desire nothing other than we should return to
Stovely.”

“
But the season is not yet over,” said her ladyship in some amazement. “Am I to believe that you would desert the Capital before its close?”

“
What say you, Jane?” he asked in a deceptively light tone. “Shall we take our little girl home? What use have we for society?”

Nonplussed Jane could find no answer, he had taken her defenses by storm and she must be careful what reply to make. She dare not return to
Stovely on this footing, all would be revealed and what then, would he love his girl so well or would his accusations rise once more to torment them? Yet how long before she would be forced to tell him? “Could we not wait a few days, I am committed to engagements?” she lied. “Am I not, Regina?” and she turned to her ladyship for support.

“
Of course, my dear, we dine with Lady Middleton on Wednesday,” conspired the dowager, “and of course there is the outing to the opera.”

“I see that you have succeeded where I have failed in getting my wife to mix in society,” replied the duke, frowning slightly and not thoroughly convinced. He was perplexed at the excuses and wondered why the ruse. What motives could they have to deceive? “We can return to
Stovely whenever you wish, there is no urgency.”

***

Returning to Blake House in the chaise a short while later, Jane declined to sit at her husband’s side and instead took the opposite seat with Sophie asleep in the crook of her arm.

“You look well, my love,” said the duke quietly. “Indeed, you bloom. Gone is the paleness of your countenance, it would seem that my absence suits you, in fact you thrive on it.”

“
Yes—no,” she replied in some confusion. “I am well, Robert, but my recovery owes nothing to your absence, I assure you.”

“
Then you are pleased that I am returned?” he asked eagerly and would have taken her hand, but she hid it in the folds of her skirt. “Does my touch repulse you so?” he asked in a wounded tone, unable to keep the hurt from her. “Must you continue to repudiate my efforts of appeasement? I tell you now, my love, I know not how much longer I can suffer this rejection. It injures me so.”

She felt his words pierce her heart. In their few days apart, when he was not forever present, she had begun to hope that she would at last be able to tell him but, now that he sat in such close proximity, her courage failed. “It is not my intention to wound you thus
,” she said softly, so softly that he had to bend slightly forward to make sure of her words. “My dear Robert, there are aspects of which I must be assured before I can explain to you where lies my uncertainty. Please, please, give me just a little more time to find the words with which to tell you and I promise I will, but it must be in my own way for I fear you.”

“What new nonsense is this?” he expostulated vehemently. “Fear me? What cause have I given you to fear me, have I not always loved you, protected you, cared for you above all else?
Why this now?”

Recoiling back against the seat at his fury she cried,
“You have just demonstrated why I should fear you, Robert. Your passion terrifies me. How can I explain to you when I know your anger is so difficult to contain?”

With a visual effort, he attempted calm.
“Then I must hold back. Never before have such passions been awakened in me. I had not known myself to be capable of such emotions as have raged in my breast these past weeks. I swear to you, I will control them. I must control them, for my greatest terror is to lose you. I will give you whatever time you wish, only swear to me that all is not lost. Give me cause to hope.”

She held her hand out to him and drew him to sit beside her.
“When we are both calmer I will explain,” she promised, “but I must be certain of your trust in me, of your belief.”

“You shall have whatever you desire,” he said carrying her hand to his lips and pressing a caress into her palm.

“What of your jealousy?” she asked, scarcely daring to look at him, her heart thundering in her breast. “With Darrows’ death, has your jealousy been allayed?”

“You still speak of Darrows?” he asked as if taking a physical blow. “Am I never to escape his revenge?” Throwing her hand from him, he flung himself once more into the seat opposite. “Is all this, and your secret, related to him? Have you, after all, deceived me in this?”

“No, no,” she cried. “You mistake me. I have in no way deceived you. Any deceit you have perceived has been in your own imagination and Darrows’ insinuations. I am but the casualty of your war, left dying on your battlefield.”

She could take no more, she could see no end to their misunderstandings, and there appeared only one option she could take. Furious at his lack of trust in her, she said with scarce concealed fury,
“This can never be resolved, Robert, we are lying to ourselves if we believe that we are capable of a reconciliation. There is but one course open and I shall take it.”