Page 62 of The New Earl’s Convenient Wife

Then she remembered the child she was nearly sure now she was carrying. If she could just get through until the baby was born, she’d have a son or daughter upon whom to pour all her love and devotion. If some of it accidentally spilled over to Rafe from time to time, she could dismiss it as the excessive emotion of motherhood.

That didn’t answer how she would deal with his feelings for Thalia, if Rafe still loved her. Even sharing a child wouldn’t untangle that dilemma.

She paced and paced, but no solution emerged from the bubbling cauldron of pain, uncertainty, hurt, grief and longing that had taken up residence inside her chest.

Time. She needed more time to decide what to do.

She thought again of returning to Thornthwaite, where she might stay alone, reorder her thinking and figure out how to deal with Rafe without revealing either her distress or the unwanted depths of her love. But if she were to depart precipitously for the country, he would probably follow her, and she couldn’t yet manufacture the calm and cheerful demeanor that would hide from him what he wouldn’t really want to know. A mismatch in their feelings for each other that would, as she’d feared from the outset, make him feel guilty and uncomfortable, shattering their friendship in a way that might be irreparable. So how to get the time alone she needed?

As she crossed the room once again, her attention was caught by the white envelope sitting on her desk. The note from Mrs Earnshaw.

For the first time since she’d spied Rafe in the ballroom last night, she felt a measure of relief. This, then, was the answer to her current dilemma. A place to go where she would have the distance and the tranquility to recover and heal, a place where he would not follow her, at least initially.

By the time she had filled up her new sketchbooks and Parliament was drawing to a close, she could share with him the news of the child. Soothed by her time alone, supported by the joyous promise of that event, she would have figured out how to resume their life together. And decided, if Thalia was part of the future, if she could resume it.

Resume their easy, enjoyable friendship, she thought, unable as yet to restrain her bitterness over this final death of her dream of his love.

Turning with resolution, Juliana rang for Baxter. She’d begin packing at once.

That evening after returning from dinner and a rout-party, Rafe joined Juliana in their bedchamber. She prided herself that, having figured out a way to resolve her dilemma this morning, she’d been able to conduct herself normally enough throughout the evening that, by the end of dinner, Rafe had relaxed and ceased to send anxious glances in her direction.

She steeled herself against the concern evident in those looks. He obviously felt she was upset by his encountering Lady Altorn and wanted to reassure her.

She tried to look reassured, bottling up the more volatile hurt and anger beneath a serene façade. Fortunately, she was always quiet in company, never seeking out attention and content to observe from the sidelines, so he couldn’t read distress in her minimal participation in the dinner conversation or the games and dancing at the rout.

After all, she had no reason to be angry with Rafe. At herself, for getting herself into the situation. But he’d never deceived or misled her; from the outset, he’d promised only respect and friendship.

It wasn’t his fault those qualities now stuck in her throat like sawdust.

Now, for her best performance of the evening.

‘A glass of wine?’ she offered, smiling.

She must have succeeded in looking at ease, for he smiled back and said, ‘Wine for now and I’ll hope for better later.’

‘Perhaps, if you are a very good boy.’

‘Let me show you how good I can be,’ he murmured, taking the glass.

She turned away to hide a glaze of tears. Surprising, once she’d frankly admitted her love, how much it hurt to return to the playful exchanges of passion she’d once used to disguise his lack of love. But now she could only go on playing.

‘Before you demonstrate that skill, I wanted to let you know that I’ve decided to accept Mrs Earnshaw’s offer of hospitality.’

‘Excellent! I can’t wait to discover which animals, birds and sea creatures will capture your interest and what marvelous drawings of them you will produce. When did you tell her we would arrive? I should think a fortnight at Thornthwaite would be sufficient after I end my Parliamentary duties before we can journey there.’

‘Actually, I’ve decided to set out immediately. Now, before you protest, hear me out. As the sessions proceed, you’ll have ever more meetings and consultations. I’ve tepid interest at best in the social events here and no interest at all in the making and receiving of calls, shopping and exchanging gossip that occupies most of a Society lady’s day. Nor is there much variety in the subjects available to sketch: birds, squirrels and a few assorted insects, since despite their ready availability, I refuse to stoop to drawing rats. You know I detest them and I only sketch the things I love.’

She paused to sip her wine. Rafe was looking at her thoughtfully and hadn’t attempted to interrupt her yet, which was a good sign. Encouraged, she continued, ‘There will, in contrast, be a world of new creatures to discover and sketch in Cornwall. Many more, I think, than you would have the patience or interest in waiting around for me to work my way through. Remember that day at the Royal Academy.’

He almost groaned before he caught himself. ‘I enjoyed watching you enraptured by all the subjects and techniques,’ he protested.

‘Perhaps, but you can’t deny that, had you come on your own or with a party of friends, you would have left far earlier.’

Since that was unanswerable, he didn’t attempt to deny it.

‘I know you could make good use of your time. And I’m sure Mrs Earnshaw would enjoy having the company of someone who shared her love of Lady Fallsham. But…what about me? What am I to do with myself on those long days—and longer nights—in London without you?’

He looked so forlorn, she almost relented. Almost.