Page 56 of The New Earl’s Convenient Wife

Had someone been unkind to her, embarrassed her, or prompted her to do or say something she would feel might prove embarrassing to him? In such a case, she would have wanted to remove herself from the scene immediately.

‘I should hope so,’ Claire said, her expression still reproving.

‘I’ll see you both soon, I imagine,’ he said, giving Claire a quick bow and pacing off to bid his hostess goodnight.

There would be nothing she could have done that he would find distressing, but he knew, thanks to her detestable mother, she was much more sensitive about how her behaviour was perceived than he was.

Surely he could pull himself together enough to discover what had happened and reassure her, if she did feel she’d committed some faux pas.

Or make sure Baxter was taking good care of her, if she truly felt ill.

Worry might be a good thing, he thought ruefully as he tripped down the stairs, grabbed his coat, hat and cane and took one of the waiting hackneys. Concern for Juliana would distract him from his upset over Thalia.

A short time later, Rafe hurried up the stairs at Thornthwaite House. Pausing outside the door to their bedchamber, he listened, but heard no sound from within.

Opening the door silently, he saw by the dim light of the banked fire that Juliana was already sleeping.

Relief on several levels swept through him. She looked peaceful, not tossing and turning, so if she had felt ill, she must be better. And if there were some matter to discuss, it could wait until morning, as he had no intention of rousing her.

By morning, he’d have himself back under control and be able to act normally.

With that cheering thought, he tiptoed into the bedchamber, doffed his garments, and climbed into bed beside his sleeping wife.

Eyes closed tight, Juliana pretended to be slumbering as she heard Rafe enter the bedroom, tiptoe in and disrobe, then lie down beside her. After a few minutes, his deep, even breathing indicated he’d fallen asleep.

She lay awake, staring at the ceiling, the searing image of Rafe staring at his lost love replaying over and over in her mind.

He’d claimed that, while he’d been devastated by the affair, he’d long ago moved on. Moved on to marry her, his good friend and lover.

But had he?

The anguish she’d witnessed argued otherwise.

But if he hadn’t—what did she mean to do about it?

A part of her wanted to flee back to Thornthwaite and avoid broaching a subject that couldn’t help but be painful to them both. But precisely because it was so painful, if they were to recapture their previous easy camaraderie, it would have to be resolved. One way or another. Running away wouldn’t solve anything.

But how even to begin? She might confess that she’d seen him—what? That she’d observed him staring at the lady? That she thought he’d worn an expression of anguish? But claiming that might make him feel she was accusing him of some kind of wrongdoing, putting him on the defensive or even leading him to shut down the conversation before it had truly begun.

Perhaps it was just surprise, and she was overreacting.

But a moment’s reflection, replaying that hideous scene again in her mind, argued that she was deluding herself if she tried to dismiss his reaction as mere surprise. She ought not to take him to task for the emotion she’d read on his face, but she knew she’d not misinterpreted what she’d seen.

Raw, naked pain. Grief and longing.

Well, what could she expect him to feel? Thalia Heathcote had been his Grand Passion, the agony of losing her the reason he’d become convinced that a marriage was better made between friends. To avoid the highs and lows of extreme emotion, he said. But she knew it was to avoid ever again caring so deeply that the loss of that person could devastate.

She, more than anyone, ought to know one never ‘recovered’ from such emotion. The only alternative was to bury it, as he had. As she’d tried to do.

Had he effectively banished it? Had the misery she’d witnessed been the last, final death throes of his one-time passion? Or had Thalia’s sudden reappearance revived all the love he’d once felt? And if it had…what was he going to do about it?

He wouldn’t leave her to pursue the lady; he had too much sense of his duty to the estate and too much honour to abandon her. Besides, however unsatisfying her marriage had become, Lady Altorn was unlikely to want to forfeit her position in Society or be forever barred from seeing her children by running away with her former love.

There were other arrangements that could, and in the aristocratic world, often were made to accommodate two married people who wished to spend time together. She felt nauseated again just thinking of it.

Would Rafe contemplate establishing an illicit relationship? If they were discreet, Society would not fault either of them. Rafe could continue to manage the estate and would always, she was certain, treat her with kindness and respect. While visiting his true love when he could get away.

The mere thought was so painful she could scarcely draw breath.