Tonight, she was a stranger again. Her replies to his questions had been short and polite, without even a hint of warmth. Her eyes didn’t quite meet his.
She sat straighter in her chair than usual, her posture so rigid it made his own back ache just watching her.
Something was wrong. And he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what.
Had he offended her somehow? Had she simply decided she’d tolerated enough of him for one lifetime?
He pushed a bite of lamb around his plate, glancing up at her once more. “You didn’t care for the pheasant?” he asked finally, trying to keep his tone light.
She started slightly, as though she’d forgotten he was there. “It’s fine,” she said softly, her gaze still fixed somewhere over his shoulder.
He set his fork down and studied her in silence.
Her face was calm, expressionless, but her fingers curled tightly against her skirts under the table, and her jaw was just a shade too tense.
Something had changed.
He knew it in his gut.
Chapter Thirty-Three
The dining room was still and quiet, save for the faint clink of silver on china and the occasional muted crackle from the fire behind her.
Georgie kept her eyes on her plate, though she’d already given up any pretense of eating.
Jason sat opposite her, his posture perfect as always, his expression unreadable in the soft glow of the candles. He cut into his lamb methodically, chewing in silence.
It was intolerable.
The words she’d been swallowing all evening pressed harder against the back of her throat until she thought she might choke on them.
She wanted to ask him about his mother. About what she’d said this morning in the shop, her sharp voice and sharper smile still echoing in Georgie’s mind.
It’s not about you, you know. It’s about his sister. He never got over not being able to save her. Now he saves any poor creature he can find to make up for it.
Her stomach turned as she replayed it. She hadn’t even known he had a sister.
She’d given him the chance to explain…that night on the balcony when she’d asked him why he’d married her. She’d asked him if he did it to be a hero and he’d denied it. And she believed him. Yet somehow, she could not get his mother’s words out of her mind.
Because if he had married her out of obligation, or worse, pity, she never would have known it if she hadn’t met his mother.
Georgie laid her fork down carefully, smoothing her napkin in her lap just to have something to do with her hands. This was untenable. She had to give him a chance…to tell him herself. She owed him that much.
She drew in a quiet breath and ventured, “I…I don’t know much about…your family.”
Jason’s knife paused just briefly before continuing its steady work. When he looked up, his expression was as inscrutable as ever. “There’s not much to tell,” he said evenly, his voice low.
Her pulse ticked higher. “Are you an…” she hesitated, choosing her words carefully, “…only child?”
This time he did stop. His fingers tightened subtly on the hilt of his knife, and she thought she saw the muscle in his jaw flex. His throat worked as he swallowed, and for the first time since she’d met him, his composure faltered.
“No,” he said at last, the word quiet but heavy.
“I have…” He exhaled, and for the first time, she saw it, the flicker of pain behind his eyes, the way his gaze drifted somewhere far beyond the walls of the room. “…had a sister.”
Georgie’s heart thudded dully against her ribs.
The silence stretched, heavy and thick, as he stared at some invisible point on the tablecloth.
