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“You could do worse,” Susan said equally acidly. “He’s saved you from some pretty grim decisions, and let’s face it, at your age, you were on the shelf. I can hardly believe you’ve managed to pull off this coup.”

“Stop talking about Hugh as if he’s a prize pig in a fair.”

“Well, he is,” Susan said, hauling the lovely cream dress over Jane’s head. Her sister had arrived with both Jane’s wedding gown and going away clothes. At the time, Jane had been touched that Susan saved her from appearing a total frump. Those warm feelings cooled by the second, as Susan’s frankness trampled her sensitivities.

Carefully Susan laid the silk dress across the bed. She went on before Jane could argue—although the awful fact was that Susan was right. Hugh was a prize, and Jane was miserably aware that she wasn’t. Her frail, newborn hopes for her future now seemed foolish to the point of fatuousness.

“Do you know what’s going to happen tonight?”

Heat flooded Jane’s cheeks. “The estate breeds cattle, sheep and horses. I’m aware of the basics.”

“Good.” Susan faced her. “Just lie back and let him do what he wants. It’s going to hurt the first time.”

Dear heaven above. Jane had been struggling not very successfully to avoid stewing over her wedding night. Trust Susan to bring the ordeal front and center.

Except Jane wasn’t totally sure it was going to be ordeal. Or at least she hadn’t been until now.

Hugh was kind, and he’d do his best to ease her into her marital duties. Late at night, when she lay exhausted in her bed, she’d pictured Hugh’s big hands touching her and Hugh’s big body joining with hers, and she hadn’t been afraid at all.

“Does it…does it always hurt?” she asked in a shaky voice.

A smile she’d never seen before curved Susan’s cupid’s bow lips. With her mass of glossy black hair, flashing dark eyes, and generous figure, she’d always been the beauty of the family. Susan took after their mother, whereas Jane was a Norris through and through.

“It gets better.”

That was reassuring. In a way. “So it does hurt.”

“It won’t last long. Especially if you lie still and let him get on with it.”

By now, Jane was feeling lightheaded with nerves. The last few weeks, she’d been grateful that Hugh had left her alone so she could prepare for the wedding and her departure from the house. Now she wondered if perhaps more time getting used to his company might have been a better idea. If she’d become more comfortable with him in daylight, perhaps she wouldn’t be quite so panicked about what happened between them after night fell.

“You’re back to looking like a wet hen.”

“I wish you’d stop saying that.”

“I daresay he won’t be too attentive. After all, everyone knows he’s in love with Morwenna Nash.”

Jane stepped back, even as a great lump of misery coagulated in her empty stomach. “You’re full of cheerful tidings today, dear sister.”

Susan frowned. “I’m sure I told you the story. He was engaged to her, then—”

“I know what happened.” Jane put up her hand. “You don’t need to repeat it.”

Susan looked abashed. “You always like to know the truth, however harsh. I thought…”

Jane crossed to lift her new lavender dress from the bed with trembling hands. “I’d rather not spend my wedding day dwelling on the woman my husband would prefer to wear his ring.”

Except the sad truth was that from the first, the ghost of beautiful Morwenna Nash had infiltrated today’s festivities.

To her surprise, Susan came up and gave her a hug. “I’m sorry. Of course you don’t. I hope you and Hugh will be very happy. He’s a fine man.”

Leaning against her sister, Jane closed her eyes and prayed for courage. Tears prickled behind her eyelids, as she wished circumstances were different. That she married a man she loved and who loved her. That she didn’t feel like second best.

And even more futile, that her father hadn’t fallen ill and died. That she hadn’t had to set aside the hopes of her youth and waste her ardent heart in loneliness and drudgery.

The most pitiful wish of all was that she was as unforgettable as Morwenna. No man would ever break his heart over plain, practical Jane Norris.

After a second, she shifted away from Susan. Giving in to these childish thoughts was doing her no good. “We’re crushing the dress.”


Tags: Anna Campbell Dashing Widows Romance