The Last Duchess (The Lennox Series)(98)

“She’s been in love with you from the start, of course. Never stopped, despite her running off and insisting she’d never see you again. In every letter, she asked after you, wondered if you’d yet got your heir, if I had seen you, if you seemed happy. She fretted endlessly about jilting you, afraid it would serve a permanent scar upon your reputation. I dutifully reported your comings and goings, your acquisition of a new bride, her sad and untimely demise, and later, the third bride, and her death. She wrote and expressed her sorrow and concern, and there was a good amount of splotched ink in those letters. Jane was never one to cry, but you have the singular distinction of one with the ability to bring her emotions to the fore. I daresay because she loves you.”

Michael remembered she’d said she had wept over a letter from home. He had taken a third wife, and the news made her cry. The truth of it hit Michael and he felt a bit short of breath. She hadn’t come back to marry him because he was the only way she could reinstate her respectability. She had come back to marry him because she loved him. How could he be so blind? Her words of only a few mornings ago came back to him. You have to allow me to love you, if it comes to that. Promise me that much, at least. I believe I’m halfway there already.

What must she have thought when he told her he would never love her, that he couldn’t allow it, couldn’t risk madness if he were to lose her? She’d said it didn’t matter, that she was content merely to be in his affections. Now, she perceived that he’d betrayed her, and she must surely be grieving, upstairs in their bedchamber. He had unintentionally hurt her, yet again, and he didn’t know if she would be able to forgive him this time.

The thought was so depressing, he slumped in his chair and wondered how a methodical, rational, reasonable man could make such a mess of things.

Sherbourne took a drink of his brandy and gave him a long, silent look before he said softly, “It won’t be easy to convince her your betrayal was slight, and meant only for her benefit, but I suspect you’re up to it. The love of a woman is always worth whatever price must be paid.”

Michael eyed his father-in-law curiously. He began to understand how Lucy might have fallen in love with him. “Sherbourne, you astonish me. Am I forgiven, then, for ravishing her, for maligning her afterward, for angering her to such an extent, she took off for Scotland, rather than marry me?”

He appeared to give it some thought, rather than rushing to reassure him. Michael’s respect for the man inched further upward.

At last, he said, “Perhaps when you have a daughter of your own, you’ll better understand my feelings. I admit I’m in no way objective when it comes to Jane. To me, she is simply wonderful, can do no wrong. If I’m forced to see any shortcoming, it angers me, not at her, but at the one forcing me to look. I’m not sure if this makes any sense at all, but I knew, that morning, you were not entirely the villain. She was in love with you, was quite obvious in her attentions. I should have told her to contain herself, but I didn’t, because I spoiled her and let her have her way all of her life. I imagine what you said to her was in way of admonishment for traipsing about the house half dressed, in the middle of the night. I’d also assume you were less than impressed with her choices of masculine pastimes. I’d been called to task for this on a number of occasions by my brother’s widow, but I didn’t listen. I insisted Jane was not one for feminine pursuits, but in truth, it was selfishness on my part, because I wasn’t interested, and had no patience for such things.”

He drank more of his brandy and smiled, albeit a bit sadly. “I truly enjoy children, and loved every moment of raising mine. Jane was my last, and so like her mother. I wanted her with me, as much as possible, and as I wasn’t going to begin stitching, or watercolors, or any proper missish activities in order to spend time with her, I took her about with me to the sheep farms, to see the crops, and visit tenants. I taught her to shoot, and ride, showed her the fundamentals of horse breeding. It was selfish on my part, and I regret she’s not accomplished in ladylike pursuits, but as I said, I can see no fault in my child. To me, she is perfection, a loving, compassionate, capable woman. I see that to one who is not her doting papa, she may be lacking. Your obvious distaste for her pursuits, despite your attraction to her as a female, rather painfully pointed this out to me that morning, and I wanted to kill you for it.”

“Perhaps I should thank you for your forbearance?”

He lifted a brow. “I most likely would have killed you, except that I knew Jane loved you, I suspected you had some feelings for her, as you would not have taken liberties if you did not, and I believed insisting she marry you was possibly the best of outcomes. I figured, over time, the two of you would work out your differences and be sublimely happy. I didn’t foresee that she would run, and once she did, I couldn’t force her to come back and see it through.” He sighed. “Would that I had.”