Hart took a deep breath. This was not easy to ask. “What does… jealousy feel like?”
Berkeley laughed. “Think I would know, do you?”
“You must have felt it when you saw Sarah about to marry Branford last summer.”
Berkeley’s voice was tight. “You’re damn right I did.”
“What does it feel like?” Hart continued.
“You’ve never felt it?”
“Father told me it was the worst feeling in the world. I’ve always ensured it didn’t happen to me. I’m not certain I’m capable of it.”
“Allow me to reassure you then. If you felt it, you’d know,” Berkeley replied.
“Then I suppose I haven’t.” Hart took another swig from the bottle. “Describe it to me.”
Berkeley was silent for a few moments. “It feels like a mix between wanting to vomit and wanting to rip another man apart limb from limb.”
“Is that all?” Hart said with a laugh. “Another man?”
“Whomever you’re jealous of.”
Hart put the bottle back on the floor. “I’ve been angry, of course. But not over a woman.”
“Never had a thought or two about planting a facer on Sir Winford?”
Hart nearly growled aloud. Sir Winford? By God, hehadhad a thought or two about planting a facer on Sir Winford. Wasthatwhat jealousy felt like?
“I need to talk to her, Berkeley. What should I do?”
“Finally,” Berkeley replied. “It’s a surprising thing when you realize that a happy marriage is within your reach. It’s enough to shock a mere mortal into action.”
“I much prefer your quiet counsel to Lucy Hunt’s calling me an idiot.”
“We each have our own ways, Lucy and I, but it seems we agree that you should see your wife.”
“Is she coming back?”
“She’ll be at the Huntingtons’ ball tomorrow night.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
The Huntingtons’ ballroom was ablaze with the light of a thousand candles in chandeliers high above the dance floor. The space was filled with theton’s best, wearing their fine clothing, expensive gowns, and priceless jewels, talking and laughing and having a grand time. Meg was there in a jade-green gown. Sarah had seen to it that her hair had been straightened again, and she wore emeralds, both a necklace and earbobs, borrowed from Sarah this time.
More than once on the way back from Northumbria Sarah had told Meg she must be strong. “Hart detests weakness. You must show him you refuse to cower to him.”
“Of course I refuse to cower to him,” Meg had replied, indignant that her friend thought she’d be anything other than adamant in her refusal to kowtow to Hart.
“You two are making this far too complicated. Allyou have to do is let him know you’re willing to talk to him. He’ll handle the rest,” Christian had added from his seat next to his wife on the way to the ball tonight.
“Ladies adore making things far too complicated, didn’t you know that, Christian?” Sarah said with a laugh. “Oh goodness, I’m beginning to sound like Lucy.”
“You are a bit,” Meg agreed, but she couldn’t bring herself to laugh. She was far too nervous about what awaited her in the ballroom. Christian was confident that Hart was in love with her, or at least could be in love with her, but Meg wasn’t confident. As the coach rambled closer to their destination, her confidence slipped more and more.
She was bolstered, however, when Lucy rushed over the moment she entered the Huntingtons’ ballroom. “I’ve told him he’s an idiot,” she announced. “You’re quite welcome.”
Meg lifted her chin. She’d prepared herself for this moment, too. “Lucy, I appreciate all you’ve done, but I no longer require your help. I intend to handle my marriage myself from now on.”
