An eerie quiet filled the chambers.
Jasper hesitated a moment, and then after the four months five days and a handful of hours since Katherine had climbed into Michael Knightly’s carriage, he entered his wife’s chambers.
I love you, Jasper. The ghost of her whisper lingered in the walls of this room, so very real, he glanced around expecting to see her smiling visage and warm brown eyes.
Empty silence mocked his foolish yearnings.
With a curse he pivoted on his heel and took a step toward the door, but then the faintest hint of honeysuckle wafted in this dark space and filled his senses with a heady remembrance of how very close to perfect his life had been.
Jasper clenched his eyes tight and willed memories of her aside. Katherine with terror in her eyes as he’d plucked her from the river. Katherine’s cheeky smile as she’d taken the last copy of Wordsworth’s book. Katherine as she’d cradled the girl Lizzie close to her chest.
Oh, God, I cannot bear this. Jasper forced his eyes open, rubbing the spot in his chest where his heart had rested.
After he’d lost Lydia and his son, Jasper had imagined he would never recover from the abyss of despair. He’d thought his heart dead within his chest.
A hollow, mirthless laugh burst from his chest and bounced off the walls. How fitting he should discover himself capable of loving, only after Katherine’s departure. Nay, not merely loving anyone…but his impossibly headstrong, passionate wife.
Jasper wandered deeper into the room. He’d ordered it closed off by the servants, barring all from entry. Beckoned by the wide, canopied bed where they’d first made love, he sank onto the edge of the mattress, his gaze fixed on the mound of ivory and white ruffled skirts.
Well, I hate ringlets. And gowns made of too much ivory and lace. Mother insists I wear them because it is the ladylike thing to do. It would be such good fun to wear vibrant shades…
Jasper reached for one of the gowns and drew it to his chest. And closing his eyes, he buried his face into the satiny smoothness of the modest, lace creation. The sweet, delicate scent of her, he’d so craved these months filled his senses more heady than the most potent aphrodisiac. It drugged him like an opiate, filling him with an insatiable need for her.
Jasper released the gown so quickly it slid from his fingers and fell to the floor.
What in hell was wrong with him? Mooning over her like a lovesick swain. She’d left him. She had made the decision that a life without him was preferable to a life with him.
With a curse, Jasper surged to his feet. The abruptness of the movement toppled her mountain of white and ivory garments.
A lone green piece, like the hint of earth poking out from a blanket of snow. Jasper swiped at the reticule. He passed it back and forth between his hands, and with a snarl, brought his arm back to hurl the item across the room.
Then froze.
He closed his eyes again and sucked in a breath. Not even his potent fury had shielded him from the depth of love he carried for Katherine. He exhaled on a broken, shuddery hiss.
Jasper wandered over to the corner of the room, and peered out into the sun-kissed grounds below. The lush green of the rolling hillsides and noisy chatter of birds so vastly different than the frozen world he and Katherine had dwelt within during their short time together.
He tugged at the drawstring of her reticule, and glanced distractedly down into the small purse. His heart paused a beat.
She’d taken the small heart pendant he’d slept with since Guilford had brought the items to him a lifetime ago. Pained regret tugged at him. He reached inside and pulled out a lone scrap of paper.
He knew the contents of her small reticule enough to recognize the folded note a more recent addition.
With trembling fingers, Jasper unfolded the sheet.
Dearest Jasper,
By this point, you have learned the worst kinds of truth of me. I am a coward. You wed a coward. I convinced myself the offer I’d put to you that snowy day in Hyde Park was driven of desperation, an attempt to avoid marriage to Mr. Ekstrom. Now I can be true enough to myself, and now to you, at least on the pages of this sheet, to at last admit, my offer had nothing to do with horrid Mr. Ekstrom, and everything to do with you.
I love you. Rather desperately, I’m afraid. And I now know you can never love me, which is through no fault of your own. Your Lydia will forever hold your heart, and if I were to remain at Castle Blackwood I would be forced to face the truth of that love, and the depth of my own despair when you could never return the sentiments I carried in my heart. And that I could not bear.
I wish you happiness.
I love you.
Forever Yours,
Katherine
Jasper’s throat worked spasmodically. His fingers curled over the lone page until it crumpled noisily in his hands. Panicked, he lightened his hold, and awkwardly smoothed the precious sheet of vellum.