The Last Duchess (The Lennox Series)(102)

“Your father believes you love me.”

“He is, as usual, correct, but love without trust means nothing. I can never tell you anything, share any part of myself, of who I am. Sharing one’s soul is something of a cornerstone to a close marriage, I believe. As it stands now, I would be hard pressed to confide in you my favorite flavor of ice at Gunther’s. I don’t expect you to understand, but try and imagine if I betrayed your confidence. I had never heard that your father was mad, and I suspect your aunt managed to hide it, to keep his condition from the outside world. Suppose I told someone whom you hold in high regard of your father’s madness, and your deep fear of becoming like him? I believe you would be stunned that I could do such a thing.”

“It is not the same thing. He’s your father. He needed to know something happened to you, needs to reassure you that the blame for it is his, not yours.”

“How can he be to blame when it was I who allowed it to happen to me?”

“If he or one of your brothers had been a presence there, do you believe MacDougal would have lied to gain your acquiescence for liberties, subsequently assaulted you, even when you said no, then insulted you grievously? No, Jane, he would not. You were essentially alone there, without protection from a blackguard of no honor. That he’s your kin only makes it worse. You said he backed off after a time, but renewed his insistence after he discovered your ruination. He saw it that you were already fallen, that you were his to take. Because no one of your family was there, he assumed they had cast you aside, banished you, that they wouldn’t care what happened to you.”

He rose and went to the window, staring out at the gardens and the wilderness beyond. “Sherbourne doesn’t in any way see this as your shame. You have to believe that, if you don’t believe anything else I say. He loves you very much.”

“You really don’t understand at all, do you? I don’t fret that he’ll think less of me because MacDougal assaulted me, or even because I allowed myself to be duped so completely. I’m his daughter, someone he cherishes and loves and considers very dear. From now on, he’ll think of MacDougal when he looks at me. He’ll feel guilty about it, and treat me differently than he did before. He’ll think me wounded, and won’t be as open with me. It will alter our relationship permanently and I don’t know how I’ll bear it.”

It was not something he’d considered. She was undoubtedly correct in her thinking, but he still believed Sherbourne needed to know, had a right to know. He was quiet for a time, giving significant thought to her words as he looked out the window.

From the corner of his eye, he caught a movement along the edge of the house, close to the garden. Turning his head, he saw Lucy and William walk into view. She must have only just arrived, undoubtedly anxious to convince him to allow her marriage to Jane’s father. Why had Hester not shown her into the parlor? Then he saw Sherbourne striding toward her from the direction of the stables. He must have seen her drive up, and returned his mount in order to greet her.

He knew he shouldn’t look, but he was compelled. Grinning happily, Sherbourne swept her up into his arms, lifted her feet from the ground and twirled her about. Lucy laughed, and her face, he could see even from this distance, was lit with joy. When Sherbourne set her down, he kissed her, then stepped away to reach for William. He ruffled his hair and greeted him before lifting him up to his shoulders. William looked very happy, his ordinarily serious face split with a wide grin. With an arm about Lucy’s shoulders, her arm about his middle, and William riding upon his shoulders, Sherbourne walked away, toward the wilderness.

Michael suspected he told Lucy they should spend some time away from the house.

His father-in-law was an eternal optimist, no doubt believing all would be well upon their return.

When they were out of sight, he turned to look at his wife.

She had folded her hands in her lap and her head was down, as if she stared at them. Her voice, when she spoke, was soft and quiet. “We are married and I’ve agreed to bear you an heir. I will do so. After I’m delivered of a son, my promise will be fulfilled. I will raise him at Eastchase Hall and ensure he receives an upbringing and education befitting the heir of a duke.” She looked up and met his gaze. “I’ll be your duchess and mistress of your homes. I’ll entertain and present a respectable face to the world. I’ll never embarrass you. However, I will not go beyond my obligations as your wife and your duchess. We won’t be friends. We won’t be lovers. We’ll couple as needed that I may conceive, but I expect you to perform the duty with all due haste as I cannot bear the idea of intimacy with you after today.”