She’d wanted him from the very first.
How could she not have realized it would end here?
“Tell me what she said to you, Prue.” Jasper’s hands covered her shoulders. “Whatever it was, whatever Lady Archer said to you, I promise you, it was a lie.”
“She was wearing a ruby and diamond necklace. She said you gave it to her.”
“I did give it to her. I don’t deny it, but there are no portraits hidden in the necklace, Prue. They’re—”
“It’s not about the portraits, Jasper. She, ah . . . she said you just gave her the necklace this week. A reunion gift, she called it.” She let out a short laugh, but there was no humor in it. It felt as if it had been ripped from her very soul.
“She’s lying, Prue. I gave her the parure with the matching earrings and necklace months ago, before you came to London.”
Perhaps he was telling the truth. It did make sense that he would have given Lady Archer the jewels as a set, and it certainly wasn’t difficult to imagine Lady Archer lying about such a thing. Perhaps he was as innocent as he claimed.
But there could be no innocent explanation for Lady Archer to have such an intimate knowledge of what had passed in their bedchamber on their wedding night. Someone must have told her that Prue hadn’t come to her marriage bed an innocent.
Who could it have been, if not Jasper? And if he had told Lady Archer such a thing, mustn’t it be because he believed it himself?
“. . . must have said something else. There has to be more to it than this.”
She turned back to Jasper, dazed. He was saying something to her, something about Lady Archer and how easily she lied, but all she could hear was Lady Archer’s voice in her head, calling her a whore.
Oh, God, the mere thought of it made her stomach roil with nausea. She couldn’t bear to think about it, or about Lady Archer and everything she’d said. Not yet. Now, all she wanted was to escape this house, this city, this man.
“I—I want to go to Kent, Jasper. To Montford Park.”
He blinked. “Montford Park?”
“Yes. I need . . . I want to get out of London for a time.”
“Yes, I think that would be wise. We can go at once, this afternoon—”
“No, Jasper.” She shook her head. “I want to go alone.”
He swallowed, all the color draining from his face. “You mean, for good? You mean to go andliveat Montford Park?”
She stared at him, startled, but it was a moment before it dawned on her what he meant.
He was asking if she was leaving him.
Perhaps she should. She could remain in the country then, and never again return to London. It wasn’t as though she’d ever yearned for a glamorous life in town, or longed to take her place among the fashionableton.
She could remain in Montford Park, taking care to visit her father or Franny on those occasions when Jasper came to the country. They would likely be rare enough.
It would be easier that way, for both of them.
But she wouldn’t do it. That was the coward’s way out. As Jasper had said once before, they’d made their bed, and now they’d have to lie in it.
She’d known from the start it was unlikely she and Jasper would ever be as Franny and Basingstoke were, that their marriage could ever become a love match. She’d married him knowing it would likely prove to be one of convenience.
Or, at best, friendship.
She’d hoped for so much more. Yes, she saw that now with a clarity that made her wonder how she could ever have so fooled herself, but she’d married him regardless, knowing it might come to this.
And she wouldn’t go back on her word now. For better or worse, she was now the Duchess of Montford, and she couldn’t simply turn her back on the promises she’d made and pretend otherwise. “No, Jasper, not to live. I just need a bit of time to myself, away from . . . everything.”
“How long?” He gripped her hands, looking panicked. “How long will you be gone?”
