“I don’t know. But I bloody well intend to find out.”
Jane cupped her hand over her mouth. She was going to be sick. “You’re betrothed to her.”
“We haven’t announced our betrothal yet, but this changes everything. Besides, you must know, I never would have offered for her if it wasn’t for—”
“What? What does she have over you, Garrett? Lucy seems to think she’s forcing you somehow.”
“No. Not that. I wouldn’t allow that. She … showed me a letter. But it doesn’t matter. I must speak to Isabella. If she did what we think she did, it is beyond the pale.”
“What letter?”
Garrett took a deep breath. “In Spain. Harold Langford. You asked me once if I was there when he died. I was. In fact…” Garrett hung his head. “He died for me.”
Jane grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “Tell me. What happened?”
Garrett moved into the seat next to her, his hands clasped in his lap. He took a deep breath and recounted the same story he’d once told Isabella.
When he’d finished, Jane set a trembling hand on his. “I’m sorry, Garrett. So sorry.”
He stared at her, unseeing. “I relive that moment every night in my dreams.”
“It must be hell for you.” She rubbed her hand against his. “But you have to know that Captain Langford made that choice. He wanted you to live.”
“That doesn’t make the guilt go away. In the dreams, I try to make it right. I attempt to save him, push him away, tell him no. Harold had two children. He had a wife. Isabella deserved better than to have the father of her children die for me.”
“You’ve been taking care of her, haven’t you, Garrett?”
He nodded, once. “It’s the least I could do … for Harold and the children.”
Jane’s heart ached for him. If only Isabella Langford deserved him. “Why do you think Mrs. Langford did what she did at the party?”
Garrett searched her face. “I think she was jealous of you, Jane. She’d obviously decided before she came that she wanted a proposal from me. I told her no. I wasn’t willing to do it.” He hung his head again. “Until she showed me the letter.”
“What does the letter say?”
Garrett rubbed a knuckle across his forehead. “It’s from Harold. He wanted me to take care of Isabella and their children. He asked me to. How could I refuse? I owe the man my life.”
Jane took a shaky breath. “I cannot imagine how difficult this must be for you.”
He shook his head. “It’s not just the letter. Isabella told me … she’s with child. Now I suspect her footman may be the father.”
Jane gasped.
“I must go see her. I must ask her what she’s done, get her to admit her guilt.” Garrett turned and looked Jane in the eye. “I have to know something, Jane. Could there ever be a future between you and me?”
CHAPTER FORTY
The sharp raps on Jane’s bedchamber door tore her from her sleep. She blinked open one eye. Estimating by the amount of sunlight streaking through the window, it was, regrettably, morning, far too early to rise. She’d been up all night piecing together everything that had happened.
Isabella Langford was absolutely dreadful. What sort of a woman did things like tampering with saddles and conking people over the head with wine bottles? Then to stage a scene like the one she had in Garrett’s room. With her own servant? It was positively revolting. Now Garrett was betrothed to that hideous woman, and she was increasing with another man’s child.
Garrett’s sense of honor ran deep, Jane knew, but deep enough to marry a woman like Isabella? She doubted it. She also doubted Isabella would admit to the things she’d done, and there was no way to prove any of them.
Garrett intended to confront Isabella, but that was between them. What Jane couldn’t stop thinking about was his question to her. Could they have a future together?
Could they? She’d spent the night contemplating that question and still didn’t have an answer.
Another sharp rap sounded at her door, pulling Jane from her thoughts.
“Who is it?” she called.
“Your mother!”
Jane groaned and pulled the pillow over her head. Mama knew better than to bother her at such an ungodly hour. If she was rapping on Jane’s door this early, it wasn’t going to be good.
“Come in,” Jane managed to reply, though her words were horribly garbled by the pillow.
Her mother marched into the room. Jane dragged the pillow from her face and blinked one bleary eye.
“Miss?” Her mother crossed her arms over her chest. Another bad sign.