The pang of disappointment that assailed her dismayed her. She shoved the feeling determinedly aside and nodded.
“In you get, then.” He shifted as he spoke, and she obediently stood, watching as he pulled the covers back for her. The sheets were cool and clean, and she felt her whole body relax as she slid between them and Gil tucked her in. Only then did she realise how absurdly tired she felt.
Gil sat down on top of the bedcovers, still fully dressed. After a minute, he said, “I don’t hate you. And I don’t dislike you. I think you’re quite bewitching, actually, which is half the trouble—” He broke off and frowned at the mattress, then sighed heavily. “I’m sorry, Rose. I realise that we can’t go on like this, that I need to put the past behind me. There will be a baby soon, after all.”
“In five months,” she agreed softly.
“We’re going to be a family,” he said, and it sounded like a resolution. If only he would stop frowning and smile, she might even feel hopeful about that concession. But he didn’t smile, and the furrow between his brows did not ease.
After a brief silence, he stood. “You’re tired. I’ll see you in the morning.” He turned and walked to the door.
“Good night, Gil,” she said, willing him to turn round. Turn around and smile at her, or something. Something that would give her one little scrap of hope that everything would be all right.
“Good night.”
The door closed behind him with a quiet click.
First thing the next morning, Gil sent round a note of apology to Ferdy, having decided to stay at home instead of going riding with his old friend. It was time he stopped avoiding Rose, time he let go of his resentment. When he remembered her tears in the carriage last night, he felt ashamed, knowing he was the cause of her heartbreaking sobs. They’d been getting on so well till he’d seen her with Grayson. But that reminder of her deception had made him angry all over again.
That anger had faltered, though, in the face of her tears and her insistence that he hated her. When he realised she believed he would come to her bed, hating her; that he would use her body, hating her, he’d felt sick. What kind of a man did she think he was? He saw the nights they’d shared since Weartham completely differently now. Those hours that for him had been the only peace between them had been a battleground for her, and he hadn’t even known.
He accepted too that he’d behaved poorly since they’d come to Town, abandoning her to the whims of the Ton. Leaving her to cope with the likes of Isobel Cairn waltzing into her drawing room. To think that Rose had known exactly who Isobel was—he cringed at the thought. She was worth ten Izzy Cairns. A hundred. Lord, the two of them weren’t remotely comparable! What must Rose think of him that he’d spent months bedding a woman like Isobel? How could he explain to her that he’d chosen Isobel because it was easier to dally with someone you had no feelings for?
Well, everything was going to be different now. As of today, he was going to put the past behind him. As of today, he was going to show Rose he was committed to their future.
He’d planned to kick off this new start with a civilised breakfast at which he would be pleasant, smiling, and would announce his intention to spend the day with Rose. However, after kicking his heels for almost two hours in the breakfast room waiting for her to appear, he realised she wasn’t going to show. He might as well have gone riding with Ferdy after all.
Was she still angry with him? Still tearful? He’d hoped they’d got over the worst last night, but perhaps not. Unable to bear waiting any longer, he went up to her rooms and knocked on the door.
“Rose, it’s Gil. May I come in?”
There was a pause, then her voice, slightly surprised. “Of course.”
She was dressed, though her hair was loose around her shoulders, and sitting at her desk, writing a letter. He wondered who she was writing to.
“Good morning,” she said. Her pen was poised in her hand, an enquiring look on her pretty face.
His wife was exceedingly pretty. He knew it was shallow to be moved by that but still, the sight of her each day made his heart skip a beat.
“I wondered how you were,” he said. “You didn’t come down to breakfast.”
She looked puzzled, as well she might since he’d made a point of avoiding her at breakfast since they’d come here. “I never come down for breakfast. I just have coffee and rolls up here in the mornings.” She paused. “Were you waiting for me?”
He felt faintly foolish. “I had thought we could spend the day together,” he said airily.