She was going to have to leave Needham Hall. If she remained here for another sennight as he had requested of her, she was going to lose all ability to resist him. She needed time and distance. Some space to breathe and search inside herself to discover what it was she truly wanted.
Careful to keep her movements small lest she wake him, she slipped from the bed. Taking up her discarded dressing gown, she hastily stuffed her arms into it before quietly creeping back across the chamber to her own apartments. It was not until she reached the familiar confines of her chamber that she realized she had been holding her breath.
The hour was early, and if she acted with haste, there was a possibility she could flee before Jack woke, taking the first train back to London. Leaving him was going to be incredibly difficult. But before she allowed this madness between them to continue, she had much she needed to do.
She rang for her lady’s maid and began making the preparations for her departure. It was imperative that she go before Jack rose, because she knew he would only try to stop her. And this was something she needed to do for herself.
On her own.
Already, she had reached one important answer: she was not going to become Tom’s wife. He deserved better than a woman who was incapable of loving him. A woman who was in love with someone else. But she owed it to him to deliver the news in person rather than by letter. He had been steadfast, loyal, and true to her.
After she delivered the news to Tom, she needed to do some thorough thinking of her own. Without Jack’s teasing grins, knowing hands, and wicked lips to distract her. At the last moment, she hastily scrawled a simple note to Jack and left it upon her writing desk. It was the best explanation she could provide in her harried state, though she knew it was a paltry one at best.
It was all she could muster.
Within half an hour, she was dressed, packed, and on her way back to London. She watched from the carriage window as Needham Hall grew smaller and smaller in the distance, half expecting Jack to emerge and chase after her.
In the end, he did not, and she stifled the tiny twinge of disappointment within her heart. She told herself she needed this time of separation. That she needed to have a mind that was not fogged by lust and love when she made her decision.
JACK ROLLED OVERin bed and smelled Nell in his sheets.
What a glorious scent: lily of the valley mingling with the musky perfume of their lovemaking the night before.
“Mmm,” he hummed happily, reaching for her as his eyes fluttered open to the bright morning light.
His hand met with empty, twisted bedclothes.
She had left his bed. Had he truly imagined she would remain? Frustration hit him, along with a wave of inevitable disappointment. He had believed they had made a deeper connection last night. She had remained with him, fallen asleep in his arms after their frenzied passion. She had even admitted she did not love Sidmouth.
He could not help but to consider that a victory all its own.
But then, she had slipped from his bed as if it were not where she belonged.
She had fled him.
Damn her.
He rose and rang for his valet. A glance at his pocket watch revealed he had overslept. It was half past nine, and he ordinarily rose just after dawn to join Nell in feeding the ducks. Elsa would have missed him, though he supposed his wife certainly would not have.
He threw on a dressing gown, feeling suddenly at odds with the world. It was the devil of a thing: he had woken with a smile on his face only to realize the grim straits in which he continued to find himself.
Denning arrived at last, his countenance indecipherable.
“A shave if you please, Denning,” he said before pausing and taking another look at his valet. “Why are you so Friday-faced?”
“I was sorry to see her ladyship leave in such haste this morning, my lord,” Denning answered.
Jack froze. “Her ladyship?”
Nell had left?
“Yes,” Denning said. “She and her lady’s maid departed for London. Forgive me, my lord, for my familiarity, but belowstairs was filled with talk of a reconciliation between you and Lady Needham. I know how much you were hoping for such an outcome, and I am sorry.”
Jack waved a dismissive hand. “You need not ask my forgiveness for anything, Denning. We have been through far too much together for that nonsense. Tell me everything you know at once.”
“Perhaps I spoke out of turn, my lord.” Denning frowned. “Were you unaware of Lady Needham’s trip? It seemed rather sudden.”
Hell, yes it was sudden. And unexpected. She had promised him seven more days, damn her. They had just made love. She had spent the night in his arms, had told him she did not love Sidmouth.
