Every word was like another slamming door. He must have flinched, because she sounded haughtily disgusted.
“You should be happy, I’d think, because there will be no likelihood of forming any feeling for me at all. Over time, whatever affection you now have will dissipate as though it never was, and the possibility of following in your father’s footsteps will become ever more remote. I won’t be emotionally accessible in any way. I won’t trust you at all. I had but one secret to share, and you promptly told the only person I would hate to know it above anyone else. You may fool yourself that you did it for my benefit, but in truth, it was to protect yourself from his censure, to smooth your way, to shift his anger toward another. How could he remain upset with you over the arrival of your mistress on his doorstep, when another man was a far worse villain? He fell right in, didn’t he? As soon as he learned what happened to me, that you nobly married me in spite of it, he saw you in a much more favorable light, which was as you intended, whether you did it with conscious thought, or not. You damaged the bond between my father and me for the sake of your own comfort and pride.”
Her gaze dropped to her hands again. “It would appear the marriage I ran away from is the marriage I came back to. That it is now I who dislikes you would be hysterically ironic if it weren’t such a travesty. This is all I never wanted.” She sighed. “I expect you’ll want to take a mistress. I don’t care. I ask only that you be discreet and that I never know of her existence, nor of any children she may bear you.”
She stood. “I’m going to ring for Rose that she can assist me in packing for my departure tomorrow. I’ll travel with my father.”
“What of Grendel?”
An expression of pain crossed her features. “I’d prefer she remain here until Benjamin determines if she’s breeding. If not, I will have her taken to the block and sold. She deserves a mistress who will ride her, and I don’t wish even to see her.”
He moved toward her but stopped when she turned her back to him. “Jane, I’ve barely spoken, not had the opportunity to tell you any of my thoughts.”
“Why waste time and breath? It won’t matter what you say, or how convincing you may be. I’ve made my plan, and as it follows yours exactly, you can hardly complain.”
Had he sounded so cold, so distant, so unfeeling? He suspected that he had. She had loved him and married him in spite of his autocratic cold scheme, insisting only that he dismiss Miriam, determined he stay only in her bed, no doubt because sex was the most she could hope for in the way of affection from him.
She moved toward the dressing room. “I’ll await you in London, at the house in Cavendish Square.”
“You’ve abandoned the notion of going directly to Eastchase?”
“On further reflection, yes. I cannot become pregnant without you, so I will remain in London until I’m breeding. The instant I become aware of conception, I’ll retire to the country and await the child’s birth. If the child is female, we will try again.” She stopped at the doorway to the dressing room and looked at him over her shoulder. “Unless I die in childbed. In that event, my obligation to you will be at an end, along with this farce of a marriage.”
Their eyes met and held for several long moments. Michael was certain he could say something, do something that would melt the ice in her gaze, but he had no idea what it might be. He was an intelligent man, capable and courageous, but faced with making things right with Jane, he didn’t know how to go on. “You said you love me. Is all this your way of expressing it?”
“Yes, it is. If I didn’t love you, I would leave you. Because I love you, I will stay and bear you a son so that you may have peace of mind.”
“You love me, yet you dislike me?”
“I cannot stop loving you. It has become a habit, a part of me. But I’m unable to like one I distrust.” Her expression softened, infinitesimally. “Poor Michael, you’ve lost something you never knew you wanted, haven’t you? An adoring wife who found as much pleasure in you as you for her, an amiable, intelligent companion, a helpmate, a friend.” She shrugged. “Ah, well, you’re back to where you started, as when you first married Annabel. You can take comfort in knowing your best laid plans will come to fruition, at last. You’ll have a stranger for a wife, and you’ll have your heir. You’ll do your duty, no matter the cost.” She turned away. “I’m going to pack. We are done.” Stepping into the dressing room, she closed the door.
***