Weddings of the Century: A Pair of Wedding Novellas(55)

*

A breeze wafted through the miniature Greek temple, carrying exuberant scents of trees and spring flowers. Justin scarcely noticed. He was hardly more aware of the pile of correspondence that lay on the cushioned bench beside him, for thoughts of his wife dominated his mind. All of his grief, guilt and anguished love had been intensified by that night of heartbreaking passion, when he had briefly thought that their spirits and bodies were in total harmony.

Sunny had sent him a single impersonal note from Paris. Though it gave no hint of her feelings, its civility implied that she was willing to go on as if nothing had happened.

Yet he feared her return almost as much as he longed to see her. Having once found passion in her arms, it was going to be almost impossible for him not to try to invoke it again, whether she was willing or not.

Absently he slit an envelope with the Italian dagger he used as a letter opener. Before he could pull out the folded sheet inside, a soft voice said, “Good day, Justin.”

He froze. Then he looked up to see Sunny poised on the edge of the folly, her right hand resting on one of the Ionic columns that framed the entrance. She wore a flowing green tea gown that made her look like an exquisite tree nymph. The garment was distractingly similar to a nightgown, and the breeze molded the fluttering, translucent layers of fabric to her slim figure.

For an instant all his tormented desire must have showed in his face. He wanted to cross the marble floor and draw her into his arms and never let her go. But he didn’t. She looked ready to run if he made a move toward her, and it was unbearable to think that she might fear him.

He set the pile of letters on the bench beside him and courteously got to his feet. “I hope you had a good journey. I wasn’t expecting you and Alex until tomorrow.”

“Rather than spend another night in London, we decided to come home early.”

“I’m glad. The house has seemed empty without the two of you.”

Afraid to look at her because of what his expression would reveal, he turned the dagger over and over in his hands. The impact of her presence had driven away all of the eloquent, romantic speeches he had been rehearsing in his mind.

After a strained silence, she said, “I have good news. I’m almost certain that... that I am with child.”

His first reaction was delight, but that was instantly shadowed by the implications. Augusta Vangelder had told him that once her daughter conceived, she was not to be troubled by husbandly lust. The fact that Sunny was brandishing the possibility of her pregnancy like a shield was clear proof that she welcomed the excuse to ban him from her bed.

His fingers whitened around the handle of the dagger. If she bore a son, her obligation to the Aubrey name would be fulfilled, and their marriage would effectively be over. Driving the dagger into his belly would have hurt less than that thought.

During the last lonely month, he had resolved to take advantage of the quiet intimacy of the marital bed to speak more openly to his wife. If she was willing, perhaps they could build a closer, warmer relationship. Now that hope was gone. Any discussions between them must endure the harsh light of day.

Knowing that the silence had been too long, he said, “Excellent. I hope you are feeling well?”

She nodded.

After another awkward pause, he said, “Good. We shall have to get a London physician here to make sure that your health is all it should be.” He laid the dagger precisely on top of his correspondence so that the letters would not blow away in the wind. “You need not worry that I will continue to... force my attentions on you.”

“Very well.” She bent her head, and a slight shiver passed through her. Relief, perhaps. “I’m a bit tired. I think that I’ll skip dinner and have a tray in my room.”

Thinking that she looked pale, he said, “Of course. You must take good care of yourself.” Back straight and head high, she turned and started down the grassy path. Every inch a lady, and as unapproachable as Queen Victoria herself.

He watched her leave, very aware of what an effort it was to breathe. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. He had been breathing all his life, yet never noticed before how difficult it was.

There was a tearing sensation deep inside, as if his heart was literally breaking. Unable to bear the deadly silence continue, he said in a voice that was less than steady, “Sunny?”

She halted, then turned slowly to face him. In the shadows cast by the tall boxwoods that lined the path, he could not see her face clearly.

He stepped from the folly and moved toward her, then stopped when she tensed. “Sunny, I want to apologize for what I did at Cottenham. I am profoundly sorry for distressing you.”

“You were within your rights, and your anger was justified,” she said expressionlessly.

“Perhaps, but that doesn’t make it right to mistreat you. It won’t happen again.”

“Should I be grateful for that?” she said with sudden, chilling bitterness. “That night was upsetting, but it was also the one time in our marriage that you have shown any feelings about me. I have begun to think that even anger is better than indifference.”

The gay ribbons on her gown shivered as she bowed her head and pressed her fingertips to her brow. When she looked up, her eyes were bleak. “We can’t continue to live together as strangers, Justin. I can’t endure it any longer.”

Her words struck with the force of a blow, nearly destroying his fragile control. It seemed impossible that their marriage could be ending like this, on a day full of sunlight and promise. Yet he could not hold her against her will. Somehow he must find the strength to let her go. “If you wish to be free of me,” he said tightly, “I will set no barriers in your way.”