“Well.” Sherbourne was obviously set back on his heels. He’d undoubtedly expected Michael to disapprove of the match because of their age difference, not because of his failure as a parent. “She can marry me without your approval, of course, but she won’t, and I wouldn’t want her to. I’m a bit taken aback, Blixford. I’d ask you to give this serious thought before you give your final answer.”
“It’s unnecessary, Sherbourne. I won’t change my mind.”
Suddenly, the door burst open and his wife rushed into the room, eyes flashing, bosom heaving, arms waving. She was in termagant mode, fully in a rage. Unfortunately, her rage was directed at him. He suspected his wife had fallen to the rather low endeavor of eavesdropping. She confirmed his suspicion when she stopped close to his chair and glared at him, her hands balled into fists at her side. “How dare you! I told you something in deepest confidence, something which brings me tremendous shame and humiliation, and you told my father? Michael, how could you?”
“Jane, I didn’t tell him.”
“You just said I was misused terribly. What else could he think? And it’s clear he already knew, so you must have told him the day we married. All this time, I was so glad to know my father would never learn of his daughter’s shame, and you had already told him. You are a cad! By all that’s holy, I’ve married a cad. And by God, it’s grossly unfair to accuse him of negligence. He didn’t come to visit because I would not allow it. I didn’t want to see him, nor any of my brothers. If you had a farthing of sense, you’d understand why. I was ruined! As much as my running away humiliated you, how do you think it was for them? I couldn’t bear to see them, knowing I’d brought such shame upon my family. I said if any of them came to see me, I wouldn’t be there. I’d go away until they left. He wrote to me every single week, for four years! He sent money and gifts and begged me to return home. He sent a distant cousin to act as companion and chaperone and I sent her back. I won’t stand by and allow you to ruin his and Lucy’s chance at happiness because you’re a bloody stick.”
She turned to leave and marched for the door. “I won’t be able to get past this betrayal, Blixford. You will return to London to your duties in Parliament and I will retire to Eastchase Hall and settle into the duchess’s chambers that I may take up my duties as mistress of the house.”
Had she tossed a barrel of iced water upon him, he couldn’t have been as stunned and shaken. She wouldn’t stay with him in his bed. She would become as his first three duchesses, available only at night, in her chamber.
“Jane,” Sherbourne called, rising from his seat, “he didn’t tell me. He said he thought it odd you hadn’t taken a husband while in Scotland, then told me you requested he meet you in the park, early that morning, that you could tell him something of significance that transpired in Scotland. I surmised his meaning. He said only that much so that I would realize your motivation for marrying him, that to dissect him was really rather pointless, when you had such a great weight upon your heart. He did it out of concern for you, so that your obtuse father would accept your choice of husband and stop inadvertently heaping additional guilt upon your head.”
He strode toward her and turned her round to embrace her. “I am nevertheless at fault, no matter that you insisted I not come to Scotland. I should not have allowed you to run, and should never have allowed you to stay. Your husband is right, and I will ever feel I failed as a parent, but you should know I love you most dearly, treasure you as my only daughter. I’d sooner cut off my arm than any harm come to you.”
She did not cry. She did not relax her posture. She did not say a word.
Michael knew her well enough by now to know, she was too angry to hear what her father said, too filled with rage to listen to reason. Eventually, Sherbourne released her and she turned and walked out, closing the door quietly behind her.
His father-in-law gave him a pained, questioning look.
“Do sit down, and permit me to offer you a brandy.”
He got up to pour each of them a hefty portion, delivered Sherbourne’s and resumed his seat. “It appears our honeymoon is over, and as my business here at Beckinsale House is concluded, we’ll return to London tomorrow. I’ll speak to Lucy and make a decision then.” He took a deep drink of brandy and stared down at the pattern in the parlor rug, admitting to himself he was a dismal failure at marital harmony. He had only to think of how it had been, how very much he had enjoyed, reveled even, in the past days, of their understanding of one another, and the swift loss of everything made him want to hit something. To cast his brandy across the room. To shout and howl and stomp upstairs and demand she recognize he did not betray her, wouldn’t contemplate such a thing, and he ever had her best interests and happiness at heart.