Sherbourne turned to look at him. “Blixford, I’m astonished.”
He listened for a disapproving note to accompany his words, but heard none. In fact, he appeared to be astonished in a rather good way. “Why is that?”
“I’ve long understood your desire to live reclusively and your determination to retain your privacy, and have an even finer understanding after learning more details of your past from Lucy. That you would do something like this, in essence air dirty laundry before all of society, knowing it could well backfire and exacerbate the situation, which will make you as much a pariah as Jane, is, simply, astonishing. I find myself quite proud of you, if you don’t mind me saying so.”
Focused on the drive, Michael smiled, despite the depressing situation. “I don’t mind, Sherbourne. Thank you. As to becoming a pariah with Jane, I’d far rather join her than leave her alone in her shunned state. But I suspect this will work, that Jane will be as competent at supervising the washing of our metaphorical laundry as she is with the real thing.”
They went along in silence for a while before Michael said quietly, “It remains to be seen, however, if I’ll be able to keep myself from killing him, risk of Hell be damned.” He would never, so long as he lived, forget the look in Jane’s lovely eyes when Lady Bloomsbury gave her the cut. He couldn’t blame the marchioness, as much as he’d like to do so. MacDougal was considered a gentleman, his word above reproach. No one thought to question him, and if he claimed she had been his mistress, it must surely be true. Her elevation to duchess couldn’t absolve her of anything so low and common as becoming a man’s mistress. Until MacDougal publicly recanted, Jane would never be accepted.
As sure as he was that his plan would work, he decided upon an additional course of action, just in case. He would acquire an ace in his pocket that MacDougal wouldn’t expect.
“I’m sorry to ruin your wedding day, but I wouldn’t want you to learn of this from out of nowhere, from someone not your family.”
“Of course, and I appreciate it, Blix. As to my wedding day being ruined, never think it. As soon as you set me down, I know you will take care of things, that you’ll see to Jane’s comfort and safety, and all will be well. Oh, I’ll worry about her, of course, and be saddened for her hurt, but I assure you, my day isn’t ruined. I’m married now to a woman I hold in high regard, her son is a delight, the sun is shining, my son-in-law is clever enough to plot my daughter’s revenge, and in an hour or so, I will be enjoying an ice at Gunther’s. Not ruined at all, Blix. Do call on me when you learn anything else, and keep me apprised of your progress, won’t you?”
He nodded as he drew the horses to a standstill. “I’ll write from Eastchase. I expect we’ll leave tomorrow morning.”
“Safe travels, son, and do give a kiss to Jane from her papa and remind her how much I love her.” He bounded down from the curricle and they all waved goodbye as Michael drove away.
He was out of the park gates and halfway home when he realized Sherbourne had called him son.
***
As soon as she arrived home, Jane had undressed and crawled into bed, uncharacteristically weepy and feeling cold and horrid. When Blixford returned, he didn’t knock, but came right in and sat upon the bed and massaged her shoulders until she was relaxed and sleepy. She drifted off, and when she awoke, he was still there, but in his dressing robe. The sun had set, though dusk still lit the room. “I’ve asked dinner to be served here, Jane, so we may speak in privacy and you can continue to rest.”
Listless and depressed, she only nodded. What did it matter?
He drew the portieres and lit the fire, along with the candles. A short while later, dinner was delivered and laid out upon a small table from the drawing room, brought up by a footman and placed before the fire. As they ate, Blixford told her of his activities during the remainder of the afternoon, of what he’d learned from Wrotham. Jane was stunned.
Then he told her of his plan and she was impressed at his cleverness.
Staring at her plate, at her mostly uneaten food, she said quietly, “I’m so very sorry. I’ve brought shame upon you and I’m most humbly apologetic.”
“You’ve nothing to apologize for, so I cannot accept.”
She didn’t argue, but drank more of her wine, then got up and crawled back into her bed. “If it’s acceptable to you, I believe I’ll wait until morning to call Rose to come and help me pack. I’ve not the energy to do so just now.”
He got into bed with her and gathered her in his arms. “All will be well, Jane, wait and see. We’ll deal with the blackguard and he’ll never hurt you again.”