Jane.
No expression of affection. Not even an inquiry after his bloody health. He’d received more effusive letters from his tailor.
He’d wondered if letting his wife spend these weeks away from him might convince her that she was better off returning to him. But so far, the yawning chasm between them seemed even wider than it had in London. She’d drawn herself up behind walls that he couldn’t assail, and that fact made him want to roar his fury and despair to the skies.
“Hugh, you seem out of sorts.” Jane’s regard was impressively steady. “Would you prefer to postpone our meeting?”
“I’ve been traveling for three days,” he retorted. “No, I don’t want to postpone our meeting.”
“So long? When I came down, I managed the trip in a day.”
“I stayed overnight in Winchester,” he said coldly, even as a humiliating schoolboy flush heated his cheeks.
That chilly little note had been his first contact from his wife since her departure. He’d been so desperate to see her, he’d set out far too early on Sunday, then remembered she’d said Tuesday. If he turned up on Monday, he risked alienating her altogether. He’d stopped at a flea-bitten inn about thirty miles from London, then last night, he’d had to cool his heels in Winchester until it was time to leave for his appointment.
“Oh,” she said, clearly puzzled.
“I didn’t want to arrive too exhausted to perform,” he responded nastily.
Part of him stood back, appalled at his churlish manners. He’d always been lauded as the perfect gentleman. Even when Morwenna left him, he’d behaved well. Right now, not even his best friend would accuse him of behaving well.
Hell, given how Silas had sided with the Townsends over this farrago, his best friend would call him an unmitigated boor. Jane had always had this ability to pierce through his civilized shell to the primitive man beneath.
“I see,” she said, blushing, too. “I’ll take you to the stables, and you can look after your horse.”
The poignant reminder of her sweet innocence as his bride only made him feel worse. He struggled against his urge to seize her up in his arms and kiss her until she admitted that she’d been wrong to leave him.
“Thank you.”
She cast him an uncertain glance, as if she didn’t trust his courtesy. Who could blame her? He noticed, too, how she kept her distance, as they went around the back of the house to the stable yard. She’d studiously avoided all physical contact when she greeted him. No handshake. Definitely no kiss.
/> The memory of kissing that lush, pink mouth slammed through him like a cannonball. Even straight and stern as they were now, those lips were as alluring as ever. He stumbled on the cobblestones, tugging on the reins and making Lysander toss his head in protest.
“Are you all right, Hugh?”
In silent apology, he patted Lysander’s glossy ebony flank. “I just missed a step, that’s all.”
They entered the stables. A pretty chestnut mare poked her head over a stall gate and whickered a welcome.
“Nice horse,” he said to break the oppressive silence.
Jane paused to rub the chestnut’s nose and whisper some nonsense. Garson was in such a bad way, he felt jealous that a horse could make his wife smile. It was a talent far beyond his meager powers.
Guilt emerged dominant from the roiling stew of emotions in his gut. He’d promised to make her happy and instead, he’d broken her heart.
“Fenella and Anthony lent her to me.” She leveled a troubled gaze on him. “Fenella said you didn’t approve of their help.”
As he led Lysander into a stall, Garson bit back a torrent of heated invective. “I was annoyed that they encouraged you to leave me.” The understatement of the year.
“They didn’t. Don’t blame Fenella and Anthony for our problems. You and I both know things couldn’t continue as they had.”
His belly knotted with anguished denial, as he began to unsaddle Lysander. Jane sounded so certain that the decision to abandon him had been hers alone, and that she’d been right to make it. Perhaps she was. Even his jaded eyes saw that she looked in better form than she had in London. Still lovely, of course, but the brittle air had vanished. Whereas every time he glanced in a mirror lately, he felt like he’d aged another ten years.
Living with him had clearly come close to destroying her. How he wished he could change that. But he had a sick feeling that it was too late to make amends.
“When you’re finished, come back to the house,” she said. “The first door on the left off the landing leads to your room.”
Garson paused in unbuckling the girth and straightened to stare at her in shock. “My room?”