Michael thought it was perhaps the best story he’d ever heard. Maybe because it was true. Perhaps because it was a bit of Jane’s history. Or maybe because it was so very different from his own parents’ marriage. “Did you take her home then?”
“Couldn’t. She was too far along. We stayed until after Jack was born, and returned to Hornsby Grange when he was six months old.” He lifted a brow suggestively. “Our twins, Henry and Julian, were conceived on the return trip. Lot to be said for groveling, Blix, but as I said, there’s an art to it.” He nodded toward the door Jane had recently exited. “I suggest you get to it. Don’t allow her to go to Eastchase Hall, or you’ll be spending the next few months in a cold bed and wind up doing what you can do right now.”
“How will you occupy yourself? This may take a while.”
“If you don’t mind, perhaps I’ll go and take a look at your crossbreds.”
Michael stood and set aside his empty glass. “Be my guest. Crofton is no doubt still at the cottage we’re using for the office. Go south of the house and pick up the lane to the west. There’s a small barn you can see from the lane, and the cottage is just there, along with the pens. Help yourself to a mount, but you should avoid Grendel.” He moved toward the door. “She may be breeding. Went into season last week and before I could isolate her, Pendragon got to her.” His mind flashed a picture of Jane, watching, then kissing him atop his mount, moving her body on his.
“You don’t say. Now that will be an interesting foal, will it not?”
“Indeed. Jane and I have decided to hope she is pregnant. Until we know, Jane’s not been riding her. If you like, take Pendragon. He’s rather chipper of late.”
Sherbourne laughed. “No doubt. Well, then, Blix, I have to say, I appreciate your brandy, your hospitality, and your friendship, and I hope, most sincerely, you’ll see your way clear to allow me to marry Lucy.”
With his hand on the doorknob, Michael turned and met his gaze. Sherbourne’s eyes twinkled. How did he do that? “Will you fair die of loving her?”
He expected him to laugh. Instead, the man shocked him completely when he said soberly, “She is my heart and my life, and you must believe I will never, so long as I am breathing, allow any harm to come to her, or William, nor any children we may have between us. I won’t pretend this isn’t most humbling for me, and I certainly feel ridiculous, being fifty years old and wanting to marry a woman half my age, but that is the way of it.” He paused. “The answer is yes, Blixford, I may fair die of loving her.”
Chapter 13
He expected to find a blaze of fury and a flurry of packing activity when he opened his chamber door. Instead, all was quiet within. He was about to turn to leave and go in search of her when he spotted the top of her dark head, peeking above the back of a chair before the fireplace. He glanced toward the dressing table. Her things were still there, resting next to his.
Reassured, he walked into the room, closed the door and went to sit on the chair to the other side of the grate. She met his gaze directly. “Is your conversation with my father done?”
“Yes, Jane.”
“Will you allow him to marry Lady Bonderant?”
“If she confirms it’s what she wants, yes.”
“That’s good. They will be very happy, and it pleases me for lovely people to have their happiness.”
Silence followed and they gazed at one another for what seemed an eternity. He formed a thousand sentences in his head and didn’t speak even one. He knew, instinctively, he couldn’t make it right to her, couldn’t explain enough for her to understand his motivation.
He couldn’t tell her he loved her, that she was his life, his heart. She couldn’t be, and she would know he lied, would despise him further than she did already. Sherbourne’s tale to demonstrate the power of groveling had been marvelous, but nothing of it applied to Michael. He was sincere in his insistence that he didn’t betray her, but she wouldn’t respond to that, regardless of how sincere.
The situation was hopeless.
Her words confirmed it.
“I’m not angry,” she said at last. “I’m not upset, nor sad, nor hurt. More than anything, I’m astonished that a man of your sensibilities could so monumentally miss the significance of what you’ve done. You’ve destroyed any chance we had for happiness and harmony, Blix. We might have lived together for years upon years, raised a large brood and found pleasure in one another’s company. We might have shared our lives. We would have been friends and lovers, as we agreed. But it’s impossible without trust, and I can never again trust you.”