Her One True Love (3 page)

He glanced along the table at Jane once more.

She stared at him, her hazel eyes gleaming with irritation. “As has the care of the villagers, it seems.”

Matthew dropped Thomas's hand and glared. “I'm sorry?”

She shook her head, her cheeks turning pink as she looked at her plate. “Ignore me.”

“To do that is impossible.”

She snapped her gaze to his and their eyes locked. Her determination to be aloof toward him, to berate him at every turn, had worn his patience thin over the last couple of hours. He cared too much for her to have their friendship less than it had always been before she departed for the city. Why was she going to Bath, for goodness' sake? Biddestone needed her here. If the villagers didn't, he did. There was no one as dear, kind, or reliable to him than her. No one. Hadn't he always sought her advice and company?

“Jane?” Monica's voice sliced the silence. She stared at Jane as though looking at a madwoman. “Whatever is the matter with you speaking to Matthew like that?”

“Nothing's the matter with me.” Jane glared at her sister, her shoulders high. “Am I not entitled to speak freely in the house where I was raised?”

“You should not speak to Matthew or any other guest like that. I want you to apologize.”

Jane huffed out a laugh. “I will do no such thing.”

The sisters' gazes locked in battle, their equally porcelain skin tinged red at the cheeks.

Thomas laughed and slapped a hand to Matthew's shoulder. “Well, well, my friend, it seems you have somehow set the cat among the pigeons. Why don't I see you out and let these two fight it out in private?”

Matthew continued to study Jane. Her dark brown hair was adorned with ribbons and pearls, and her creamy white neck curved down to the soft hump of her breast, above the laced bodice of her dress. His groin twitched as though waking from a long sleep. How much longer could he bear fighting his attraction toward her? He cleared his throat, rare nerves tumbling through him. “Thank you, Thomas, but I must ask that Jane see me out.”

It was challenge, a gauntlet thrown down in the sphere.

Her gaze snapped to his, burning with a fire that made her eyes gleam like a palette of autumnal color beneath the lamplight. “As you wish.” She stood abruptly, her chair teetering behind her. She gripped the chair and held it steady, the orbs of her breasts rising and falling with each harried breath. “Shall we?”

Undeniable heat simmered between them as she gripped her skirts in one hand and marched toward him. When she was close, he bowed and she swept past him to the door. A real, heartfelt smile tugged at Matthew's mouth for the first time in months, causing an unexpected burst of energy. He snatched his gaze from the back of her head and nodded first to Thomas and then Monica. “Again, I thank you both. I will no doubt see you again soon.”

Thomas grinned. “You will. Good night.”

Monica merely nodded, her bemused gaze fixed on the open door through which Jane had disappeared. Matthew exited the room, his body wired with anticipation of his forthcoming exchange with Jane. Whether she wanted it or not, he was determined that she explain the change in her attitude toward him. Something told him he'd better damn well listen, because he could not, would not, allow her to leave with this insufferable tension between them.

She stood at Marksville's closed front door, her spine rigid as she faced the opposite wall. Mrs. Seton shifted uncomfortably beside her, her hands clasped tightly in front of her apron.

Matthew bit back a groan as he approached them. He'd hoped to speak to Jane alone. “Mrs. Seton, I just wanted to thank you for the most delectable meal. It was a feast I didn't deserve.”

“You're more than welcome, sir.”

Jane sniffed in clear disapproval. Ignoring her, he dipped his head to Mrs. Seton. “Well, I extend my gratitude to you and no doubt Jeannie too.”

Mrs. Seton smiled tightly and looked to Jane. “Miss Jane? If there's nothing else . . .”

Jane faced her and smiled so genuinely that Matthew suddenly hankered for the same fondness in her eyes and her lips to be directed at him.

She touched Mrs. Seton's arm. “Of course. You go and do what you need to do and then I want you to retire for the night. You worked so hard to feed us this evening. I have no idea why Mrs. Ashby, Monica, wanted to make such a fuss of dinner tonight . . . considering the company was nothing out of the ordinary.”

Mrs. Seton's eyes widened and Matthew bit back another smile at Jane's jab at him.

With a quickly executed half-curtsy, Mrs. Seton hurried away toward the kitchen at the end of the hallway. Matthew stared after her until the door closed and then faced Jane. “So, here we are, alone at last.”

“Indeed.”

He stepped away from her and paced a slow circle, his mind running through the words he should say, and the words he felt
compelled
to say. His mind scrambled with rare self-consciousness. Why had the talk of Jane's imminent departure stretched his nerves tighter and tighter over the four courses of the meal?

Fire simmered in her hazel eyes as she stared expectantly. “Well?”

He cleared his throat. “What have I done to upset you? I wouldn't wish for you to leave with bad feelings between us.”

Her gaze dropped to his mouth before she inhaled and released a shaky breath. “You have changed. I can't say I like it.”

Surprise rippled through him, and he raised his eyebrows. “What does that mean?”

She stepped back, opening the space between them. She looked toward the wall behind him. “It means you are colder, more abrupt than I've ever known you to be with me, my sister, and most of the villagers. When we do see you around the village, you stride around wearing a permanent scowl . . .” She looked at him. “Rather than the smile we have all become used to. Everyone knows what the squiress has done. I see no need to punish us when it's she who has betrayed you. I'm tired of it.”

“You're . . .” He glared. “And you think I'm not? You think I enjoy being humiliated and thrown aside for another man? My wife left me, Jane. You have no idea what that does to a man. No idea at all.”

Two spots of color darkened her cheeks, and what Matthew could have sworn was disappointment flashed in her eyes, before she blinked and fire raged once more. “Well, be that as it may, she's gone, and I will soon be too. I'm sharing my feelings not for me, but for the people whom you are supposed to take care of, whom you are supposed to care about.”

He clenched his jaw and spoke his next words through gritted teeth, fighting the urge to take her upper arms and shake her. “You have the gall to imply I have no care for Biddestone? For its people and problems?”

She lifted her chin. “I do. They need to see your actions. They need to see you working to do everything you possibly can to get them through this coming winter and beyond. Your wife undoubtedly worked hard beside you, ensuring she supported—”

“She did nothing of the sort.”

She flinched. “Pardon?”

Anger simmered like a ball of heat in his stomach, and he turned away from her wide eyes. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes, confused by the rush of wanting. He wanted Jane's approval, not her disappointment. He wanted her to look at him with admiration and enthusiasm for his work, as she had for most of her adult life. Why he craved a single look of respect from her as they stood here now, he did not know. Yet, being with her here, like this, he couldn't imagine weeks ahead without her being a part of his life.

He turned. “When are you leaving for the city?”

She took another step back, her gaze darting over his face. “The day after tomorrow. Why?”

“Because I will escort you. We can travel together in my carriage.”

“No, I do not need your—”

“I will be going anyway. Despite your clear dismissal of both my work ethics, and me, I planned to visit some contacts in the city in the hope of securing guaranteed trade for Biddestone in the coming year. It seems unnecessary for us to make the trip separately when I have a carriage plenty big enough for us both.”

“There is absolutely no need. Jeannie will be coming with me.”

“My offer still stands.”

She glared. “It's my intention to start on the path of independence, of finding out what the world has to offer me on my own merit.” A pulse beat in the hollow at the base of her neck. “I will hardly be carving out my own path when at the first step from my home, I lean on you. I thank you, but no. Jeannie and I would prefer to go alone.”

“You are being stubborn.”

She pulled back her shoulders. “And you are not?”

The longer he looked at her, the more Matthew saw the quiet beauty he had desperately tried to ignore. He took a deep and steadying breath. “Please, Jane. Let me escort you to Bath.”

The seconds passed, but Matthew held his tongue. It was imperative she spoke next, that she understood he didn't mean to bully her but wanted to ensure her safety to a city ravaged by danger, as much as opportunity.

She sighed. “Fine. On one condition.”

He held her gaze. He always knew Jane had gumption, but it seemed her gumption flowed harder than ever before. “Which is?”

Her eyes softened, slowly lighting with mischief. “You smile. Now. You smile at me like you did before she left.”

Heat rose to his face. “You want me to smile?”

“Yes. Smile for me, Matthew.”

He looked into her eyes. Gentleness, empathy, and passion swirled in their depths, but they also bore a deep, painful awareness that scratched hard over his heart. The longer he stared into her eyes and then at her mouth, the more he wanted to make her happy.

He smiled, his gaze on hers . . . and was surprised to find the trade no effort at all.

J
ane stared around her bedroom one last time. The cream and pale blue drapes around the bed, even the plush carpets and wall coverings, pulled at her to unpack her cases and return to sanity. No matter her will to leave and strive for adventure, doubt and the pressure to stay and look after her family, as she'd been raised to do, continued to linger.

Yet, leaving was her only option if she were ever to spread her wings and rid herself of the surety Matthew was, and forever would be, her one true love. Loving just one man with the depth she loved Matthew had torn her heart in two, and she could bear it no longer. Were her feelings not little more than romantic nonsense fit only for the pages of a novel, rather than true life?

“I'm a fool and so is he.” She whirled away from the bureau and placed a shawl atop the clothes in the last of her cases. She slammed the lid and closed her eyes, her fingers clawing into the case's leather. “It is one journey and if I stay in Bath, I never need see his face again. Even if I return, it will be as a new and wiser woman, not the foolhardy girl I am now.”

Through the open window, the crunch of gravel under hooves sounded. Jane hurried forward and gripped the sill. Matthew's carriage, ebony black, trimmed with gold and topped with golden lanterns, came to a stop in front of the house.

Jane's heart beat faster. Why had she agreed for him to accompany her and Jeannie? Being in such proximity for the hours it would take to reach Bath would only add to her irritation with the man.

Two days had passed since he'd come to the house for dinner, and she'd not seen hide nor hair of him since. Of course, the reason for that might well have been her reluctance to leave the house and risk making his acquaintance in the village. Over and over, callers had stopped by Marksville once word spread of her leaving . . . but never Matthew.

The carriage door opened, and Matthew alighted. She cursed the stumble in her chest. How stupidly she'd bartered his accompaniment to Bath in exchange for something as simple as a smile. Why had she done such a thing? Wasn't getting away from him part of her reason for fleeing Biddestone? Yet here he was beside her once again. She only had herself to blame.

Thomas walked outside, his smile wide and his hand outstretched.

Jane spun away from the window, not wanting to witness Matthew's greeting in case it was for everyone now to draw his smile, in case he held the same fondness for her as he did all his friends.

Her need to see him smile, and the rapidity of her heartbeat when it finally appeared, was shameful. Add the reaction of her traitorous body, and it was downright common. Tears pricked her eyes, and Jane swiped at her face as annoyance rose and squeezed at her heart. She would not falter. She was strong and would be in charge of her life from the moment she escaped Marksville's clutches.

Jane hurried toward her suitcase atop the bed, feigning the action of closing the locks. “Come in.”

Her sister's familiar scent accompanied Monica as she swept into the room. “Are you ready? Matthew's arrived and I must say, he's looking more handsome than I've seen him in weeks.”

Jane briefly closed her eyes before planting on a serene smile and turning around. “Is that so? Well, maybe my words to him at dinner permeated that stubborn head of his and he's decided to brush up his act.”

“Brush up his act?” Monica laughed and closed the space between them, taking Jane's hands in hers. “Are you really determined to continue this charade with me as you are with Matthew?”

“What charade?” Jane frowned. “He jolly well knows I meant it when I told him he needs to get on with things.”

“Hmm . . .” Monica raised an eyebrow. “Yet once he'd left, you returned to the dining room with a smile worthy of a woman one hundred percent in love.” She frowned. “You will try to play nice on the journey, won't you? Moreover, accept that Matthew is still reeling from his wife's betrayal. I know how you feel about him, but to expect any more on his part is—”

“Foolish. I know.” Jane eased her hands from Monica's and walked to her dressing table, lifting her hat from its stand. “Which is why I will be polite and courteous during the miles to Bath and bid him good wishes for the future once we arrive.”

Monica came up behind her and took the hat from Jane's hands. She nodded to the chair in front of the mirror. “Sit.”

Jane did and allowed Monica to pin her hat into place. As she did so, Jane stared at her sister's reflection. “You'll be absolutely fine here with Thomas. You do know that, don't you?”

Monica laughed, but the tears in her eyes belied her sadness of Jane's leaving. “Of course I do. You forget the many years I spent in Bath without you and him.” She lifted her gaze to Jane's. “I'll miss you. You've become somewhat important to my life over the last year or so.” She winked. “But I'm sure I'll survive while you're gone.”

Jane laughed, her eyes stinging with tears. “I do love you.”

“And I love you.” Monica slid a final pin into place. “There. Done. Now stand so I can see you.”

Jane stood, and they smiled at one another before Jane pulled Monica into her arms and held her. “Please don't worry about me. I'm made of the same stuff as you, am I not? I want to go. I
need
to go. That doesn't mean I won't trip and stumble, maybe even fall flat on my face.” She pulled back and brushed her thumbs under Monica's eyes, her own tears sliding over her cheeks. “But at least I'll have Jeannie to pick me up, and know I have you, Thomas, little Thomas, and Mrs. Seton to come home to whenever I wish.”

Monica smiled and wiped at Jane's face. “You will. Always. Now, enough of this melancholy nonsense. Let's get downstairs and see what the men are up to. I daren't leave Thomas alone for too long or he might break our news to anyone prepared to listen, with or without my say-so.”

Jane frowned. “Your news?”

Monica's eyes lit up like the stage lights she loved so dearly. Her cheeks reddened, and her smile stretched to a grin. “I'm with child again, Jane. Thomas and I are going to have another baby come the summer.”

The revelation pushed like a fist into Jane's stomach, stealing the air from her lungs. A baby. Monica was to have another baby. As happy as she was for her sister, Jane fought the sadness for her own lack of love and children, her fears for what she'd never have squeezing at her heart like a vise. She forced a smile. “Oh Monica. That's such wonderful news.” She pulled her sister into her arms as her vision blurred. “Such wonderful, wonderful news.”

As they embraced, Jane berated her envy and inability to wholeheartedly celebrate the joy in her dear sister's life. Yet her longing was a fight too painful, too bloody, and there was nothing to do but tolerate it as she would the slash of the sharpest knife.

Monica pulled back and grinned. “Now, stop that silly crying, young lady. You have a brand-new life to start living.” She swept toward Jane's bed and lifted her suitcase. “Are you ready?”

Jane laughed. “I'm more than ready. Give me that suitcase. You shouldn't be carrying anything in your condition.”

Monica rolled her eyes. “For heaven's sake, don't you start with that babble. Thomas is already fluttering around me like a mother hen.”

Jane followed her sister out of the bedroom and down the stairs. When Matthew looked up from his place in the hallway and their eyes met, the pain in Jane's heart gathered strength, telling her in no uncertain terms her toughest journey had only just begun.

She lifted her chin.

But, by God, she would have the strength to endure it.

 

Matthew kept his eyes averted from Jane for the entirety of the time it took him and Thomas to load her and Jeannie's luggage onto the carriage. He continued the same throughout the lengthy farewells on Marksville's doorstep. It wasn't until it was time to help Jane into the carriage that he allowed himself a second glance at her since she'd appeared on the stairs inside the house.

Resplendent in a dress of mauve, trimmed with purple collar and cuffs, the darkness of her hair shone beneath her matching hat, tilted to the side as seemed to be the women's fashion. So used to her in dresses of less eye-catching colors as she went about her business in the village or tending to her family's needs, her message was clear. She was setting on a new path. One that he and her family would not necessarily be a part of.

Protectiveness unfurled as Matthew turned his hand to Jeannie. Even with her maid accompanying her, Jane had no idea of the types of men who would undoubtedly be vying for her attention in the city.

Cads and dandies often dressed in the finest clothes to hide the most devious of hearts. Confidence tricksters and lowlifes paraded around as men of good breeding, watching and waiting for their prey like vultures.

Did she think they would care for her as he did? Would want to ensure her happiness and safety?

She was a woman with a beautiful face and a stunning figure. A woman forging her own life and making her own decisions. She was leaving behind, not just Marksville and her long-suffering duty to a mother who cared not for her daughters' happiness, but also her position in the village and beyond. She was moneyed, financially independent. Did she not understand the immediate danger such a standing gave her?

With the women comfortably seated, Matthew pulled his lips together and levered himself inside the carriage, beside Jane. He slammed the door and glanced at Jeannie and Jane in turn. “Are we all set?”

Jane nodded, her spine rigid and her smile far too wide. “We are.” She looked at Jeannie. “We can barely contain our excitement. Isn't that right, Jeannie?”

“It is, Miss—”

“Ah, Jane from now on, remember? We are outside of Marksville's doors and, from this moment on, you are my companion, not my maid.”

Matthew clenched his jaw. Did the woman think this jaunt a joke? That she was embarking on a day trip with friends? He leaned toward the open window of the carriage. “On we go, Simmons.”

The carriage jolted away, and Jane leaned across him to wave to Monica, Thomas, and Mrs. Seton. Matthew stiffened as the scent of rose water and something else that must be entirely Jane drifted beneath his nostrils. He stared at the dark curls at her cheeks, the smooth curve of her neck . . . how was he to allow her to be exposed to God only knew what?

Laughing, she pulled back and glanced at him as she settled against the seat once more. “I can't believe I am actually doing this.”

Matthew stared. “Me neither.”

“Oh Matthew, do you have to be such a killjoy? Can you not be happy for Jeannie and me and wish us well?”

“Not when you act so nonchalant about such a gigantic change. I fear you have no idea what dangers you could encounter without protection.”

Her smile dissolved and her eyes darkened. “I will have all the protection as and when I need it. Do you remember Adam and Laura Lacey?”

He frowned as hazy recollection filled his memory. “The playwright and his wife?”

She nodded. “Yes. I will look them up as soon as I am able. I'm certain they will be more than happy to escort me if the need should arise. Now, we have hours of traveling ahead. Can you at least try to be happier company?”

Turning away, she leaned forward and grasped Jeannie's hand. The two of them instantly started to excitedly talk about the prospects ahead of them.

Dragging his gaze to the window, Matthew silently cursed his negativity. What good would it do to annoy Jane further when he wanted her to come to him if she was concerned or worried about anything? A single letter or message from her and he would come to Bath instantly. Nothing romantic had occurred between them, but that didn't mean he hadn't always held hers and Monica's best interests in his heart.

Maybe Jane's more than Monica's, but that was only because Monica had left Biddestone a long time ago, only to return these past two years.

Liar
.

Jane had always meant more to him, but his work and lineage, added to her family commitments, had put a stop to pursuing anything further with her . . . so he'd married Elizabeth.

And just look how well that turned out.

He risked a glance at Jane's profile as she pointed at something in the distance through the opposite window. Jeannie laughed.

Matthew clenched his jaw.

When Jane had slid her hand into his as he helped her aboard, the fear she might not return, but instead seek a career in Bath as Monica had, gripped him with the ferocity of a boa constrictor.

Her increased fortitude wasn't that which he'd known before when she had helped him with a dispute or upset among the villagers. The determination emanating from her now was a raw and time-ready resolve and, by God, it unnerved him.

He took the unobserved moment to study her. Her flawless, almost innocent beauty conflicted with her oft-sharp words and opinions. She was like a silk glove encased around an iron fist. What kind of man did it make him that he noticed Jane so intensely now she was to leave? Self-disgust rippled through him, and Matthew turned away.

He'd worked feverishly to put plans into place in order to better Biddestone's prospects. He had plans and aspirations he would see through to the end. What did it matter that he'd brought those ideals forward through a mad, impulsive need to accompany Jane to Bath?

She sighed and settled back against the seat as they headed along another lane that would lead them through Biddestone and out the other side toward the city.