One Night With You (The Derrings #3)(47)

Still looking uneasy, Jane accepted his hand, her palm warm and soft against his. Small, he realized. Somewhat at odds with her robust appearance.

Their guests followed them to the foyer, their steps a busy clatter on the parquet floor. He waited patiently as she made her farewells.

"Tell Anna not to fret," Jane said, shooting a quick glance Seth's way as she slipped on her cloak.

"Let her know I am well."

"Of course," Lady Shillington assured, fixing her gaze on him, a light of warning in the bluegray depths that he did not mistake. "Have a marvelous time. Be sure to send word when you've returned. I must hear all about this secret honeymoon."

Nodding, she allowed him to lead her from the house and into the waiting carriage. Settled against the velvet squabs, she busied herself with arranging her crow-black skirts and repeated her earlier question. "Where are we going?"

He waited until she removed her attention from her skirts, until she met his gaze before answering.

"Julianne wouldn't want me to ruin the surprise. According to her, it wouldn't be romantic if you knew."

"Don't mock," she whispered, those luminous eyes of hers so bloody wounded that he felt like an utter ass. With a shake of her head, she turned to stare out the window. "Let's cease the charade, shall we? Your sister is not here. And you've already schooled me on the precise nature of our marriage. I have no expectations of romance."

He studied her profile, noting the hard set to her mouth.

"Does that disappoint you, Jane?" The moment he asked, he regretted the question. It did not matter if she was disappointed. Their marriage was what it was. It could be no more. He could not allow it.

"Not at all." Her clipped words fell like shards of ice. "I know you don't believe me, but I never intended to trap you." That round little chin of hers lifted stubbornly. "I never intended for you to… find out it was me. Never wanted to become a complication in your life." A complication. The word seemed inadequate to describe Jane. He doubted he could name what he felt for her, but she was vastly more than a mere complication.

"We're wrong for each other," she continued. "Ill-suited at every level. I know you came to Town to find a bride. And you never would have chosen me." She looked out the window again, her fingers thrumming her lips in a thoughtful manner. "For that, I'm sorry. Sorry that I took your choice from you."

Even as she said the words, the image of her eyes, glowing like embers in the night through her domino as he thrust in and out of her flashed through his mind. His body responded instantly and he shifted uncomfortably on the seat. He had chosen her. He just had not known it was her at the time.

And if he were honest with himself, he had chosen Jane, too. He had followed her into Lady Shillington's gallery, suffering no qualms when he slid his hands beneath her skirts, heedless of the risk, uncaring that they could be discovered at any moment. Had they been caught, he would have done the honorable thing and married her.

"I would not say that I was without choice. I am not in the habit of bedding strange masked women. I could have used more discretion. You do not bear total culpability." Why he felt the need to set her right on that score, he could not say. She glanced at him, fingers paused over her mouth, hope brimming in her eyes. Hope that he dare not nurture.

"I know my duty," he added brusquely, watching the hope fade from her gaze like a diminishing sun over the Indian Sea. "I will do my best to be a good father and a decent husband. A fair husband. That is enough. For both of us."

His words rang in his head as dismally as the pealing of a funeral bell. Hell. Who was he trying to convince? Her? Or himself?

Cursing beneath his breath, he looked away, staring blindly out the window and willing his heart not to thaw one fragment. Not for her. Not a woman who had proven herself less than honest in her dealings with him. He drew a lungful of air, letting it fortify him. Her hushed voice reached him, quiet as leaves tossing in the wind. "Already you offer me more than I ever had. My last marriage taught me to expect nothing. I would be a fool to start now." He glanced at her. The coolness of her expression validated her words. She would accept what little he offered.

And he would convince himself that he wanted nothing more from her.





Chapter 20


A salty breeze whipped tendrils of hair across her face as she descended the carriage to face the Tudor-style manor house. Well-trimmed yew hedges, lush as green velvet, surrounded the house, contrasting richly with the light Caen stone. Seagulls sang in the not too far distance. Clouds, fluffy as wool, skidded across a cerulean sky.

"Is this it?" Her gaze flew to Seth's face, hope fluttering in her heart. "The cottage?"

"Yes," he answered, taking her elbow.

Her breath escaped her in an excited rush. Before Julianne's accident, his family spent a fortnight every summer at the cottage. Her eyes skimmed the sizeable house, larger than her own girlhood home. The cottage, she mused. An imprecise designation. She had longed to join his family during those summers, to see the ocean, to frolic in the waves with Seth and Julianne instead of languishing at home with her family.

Lifting her face, she inhaled sea air. "Is the ocean far?"

"Not far," he replied, guiding her up the steps just as the front door opened and an elderly couple stepped out. "Mr. and Mrs. Lowery," Seth greeted, "May I present my wife, Lady St. Claire?" Smiles wreathing their lined faces, the couple sketched a bow and curtsey. "My lady," they greeted.