Her mother's constant chatter hardly helped her nerves, so Marissa had left her to gossip away to deaf Aunt Ophelia. Harry had long since gone off for a ride.
She could breathe out here at least, in the crisp tang of autumn, and her blue cloak tossed dramatically in the wind, satisfying some blood-born need for dramatic effect. She'd get windburn if she wasn't careful. Her pale skin couldn't take such abuse.
She was reaching for her hood to pull it up when she noticed a man from the corner of her eye.
Jude.
He stood beneath the tree where they'd lain together, and he watched her with a direct stare that made no excuse for his gaze. In that instant, she felt nothing but a deep, dark satisfaction that he watched her as if he owned her. Then she realized what his presence meant. Her steps were slow as she walked toward him, and he strode out from the shade to meet her at die edge of the roses, bringing too soon an end to her reprieve.
"Did you see her?" she asked.
He nodded.
"And?"
"She was jealous of you."
"That makes no sense. Charles married her."
"She feels he's still in love with you."
Marissa didn't pretend not to understand. She was sure he had still loved her, a little, when he'd said his vows. But not for a long time now, surely. "I don't think that's true, Jude. Not anymore."
"I told her as much."
"And ... she admitted it all?"
"She did. On the condition that we not tell Charles."
Marissa frowned viciously. "But he should know what kind of woman he's married to. She's deceptive and conniving and—"
"She's in love with her husband and pregnant with his child." His brow was creased with worry. "She said at first she only meant to tell tales about you to Charles. I'm not saying I would be bosom friends with her, only that she is in pain."
Though she was still furious with the woman, Marissa considered what it would be like. To be married to Jude and know that he loved another. It wasn't hard to imagine going mad with frustration and aching. "You're certain she was sincere?"
"As certain as I can be. And her teal's are well-founded.
If her husband finds out, whatever love they've built together might crumble."
"I suppose I shall have to let it be, then."
Jude nodded. "Fair or not, she felt as if she were living with your ghost between them."
"Are you actually attempting to turn my anger into guilt?"
Jude smiled and offered his arm, with a bit of the old easiness between them. Marissa took his arm with a feeling of tentative hope as they walked along the outer edge of the garden. Maybe he was not done with her.
"Not guilt," he said, "but I admit to a sympathy for the poor woman. I was furious when I arrived, and only maudlin when I left. Do you really think he's come to love her?"
She nodded and wondered how to broach the more difficult subject of her own feelings. This was the time, when no outside obstacles existed between them. This was the moment to set her fears aside and speak honestly.
But her fears clawed up inside her and invaded her mind. There was no more danger. No need to marry. Jude was free, and she'd given him every reason to change his mind about this match. She needed to convince him that it was more than a farce. More than a desperate means of saving her from ruin.
Marissa needed to tell him what she really felt.
She'd had hours to plan a speech, but she'd hadn't used those hours wisely. She'd worried and fretted and paced and frowned. But she hadn't thought of the right words, and as she struggled with them now, Jude spoke instead, and his speech made hers impossible.
"I'll leave in the morning." Five simple words, but they told her everything. She was too late.