Page 34

Even now he hasn’t brought up what’s to happen when he leaves Wellbourne House for his own. Is he expecting me to stay here, or will he want me to go with him…?

‘Will you take some wine, ma’am?’

An elderly gentleman opposite her offered the decanter, and she accepted with more enthusiasm than was probably proper.

‘Thank you, yes.’

She sensed Jacob watching as her glass was filled. He was sitting very close to her right elbow, and she felt the back of her neck prickle when he spoke to her in a low voice.

‘Served wine by the Lord-Lieutenant of Staffordshire. How grand you’ve become.’

‘Hardly.’ With a smile of thanks to the other man, she murmured back. ‘I would have allowed a rat to pour me a glass if it offered. I need something to give me courage enough to make it through this meal.’

Jacob gave a barely audible snort. ‘I doubt that. If there’s one thing you already have plenty of, it’s courage.’

It was flattering to know he had such high regard for her mettle, but as she scanned the table she wasn’t entirely sure his admiration was warranted. Anthony sat only a couple of chairs away and she quickly averted her eyes when his cool ones met hers; as usual there was loathing in their blue depths and the power of it made her skin crawl, although with Jacob beside her she knew she had nothing to fear.

The point she’d been considering before her wine glass had been filled resurfaced. If it ever came down to choosing whether to leave Hayworth with him or remain behind with her family, it would be the most heartrending decision. No matter which path she took, she would be parted from someone she cared about, and the more her trust in Jacob grew the more conflicted she became. She loved Pa and Peter, but she was also powerless to deny that she still loved Jacob too, the damage he’d done when they were younger in the process of being healed by his actions as a man.

That was assuming he’d even want her to accompany him, however. Her monthly course had begun that morning, giving a definitive answer to whether their night together had had further-reaching consequences than mere confusion, so there was nothing to force Jacob to cleave to her if he chose not to. Whatever had made him abandon her before was still as much a mystery as ever, a question she still shied away from asking, but until that secret knowledge was shared she knew she would struggle to fully leave the past behind.

An outbreak of excited chatter came as a welcome interruption. A procession of servants was filing in carrying an array of trays and dishes, and even Meg found herself momentarily side-tracked by an enormous, vaguely animal-shaped pie that was set down near her place.

‘What in the world…?’

‘I don’t know. A sight to behold, though, isn’t it?’ Jacob studied the pastry mountain, seemingly bemused. ‘Do you suppose it’s meant to be a cat?’

‘It can’t be. Look at the head. Perhaps a fox…?’

‘It’s a deer.’ Isabella’s voice came cuttingly from a little further along the table. ‘Obviously. Whoever heard of a fox-shaped venison pie?’

‘Ah. Of course it is. My apologies.’

Jacob nodded courteously to his sister-in-law, although Meg caught the upward tick of his lips. That hint of mischief made her want to inspect his mouth more closely, but she made herself resist as dinner was served and the assorted company grew quiet amid the sound of chewing and scraping of knives.

Course after course was brought out. She didn’t sample everything, but all the same, the rich food settled heavily in her stomach. It didn’t take long for her to start feeling uncomfortable, although the dishes themselves were only partly to blame.

Setting down her spoon, she leaned over to speak almost inaudibly to Jacob. ‘I feel guilty. It’s wrong to eat this well when people in Hayworth are starving.’

‘I agree. It’s unpardonable we have so much when others make do with so little.’

He laid aside his own spoon. Seconds before he’d been amusing the stately lady sitting beside him with a lively story but now he was serious, his brow furrowed as he muttered back. ‘Do you think there’s anything I can do to redress the balance? I may not be the Viscount, but as a Fernley…’

He stopped at the decided shake of Meg’s head. ‘No. You absolutely cannot offer charity. It would be an insult for the villagers to accept any gesture made out of what they’d see as pity, especially since it was your brother who brought them so low.’ She arched an eyebrow towards the other end of the table, where their host sat in self-satisfied splendour. ‘They might be poor but they have their pride. The only thing that would truly help them was if Anthony saw fit to open the estate again, and we both know how likely that is.’

Jacob’s frown deepened. ‘I’m sorry for that. I hope you know that if there was anything I could do, I’d be glad of it.’

‘I do know that.’

Calling to mind the rules of etiquette she’d been trying so hard to remember, she laced her fingers together in her lap. Public displays of affection between married couples were frowned on, he’d already mentioned in passing, but when he looked so earnest it wasn’t easy to hold back from seeking his hand.

‘I know you and your brother are nothing alike. If he were more like you, the estate would be a much better place.’

Unless she was mistaken he seemed modestly pleased. A trace of the crinkles she’d always liked so much appeared at the corners of his eyes, but unfortunately she was given no time to enjoy them.

Anthony’s voice had risen above the genteel hum. He was talking more loudly than usual, perhaps the plentiful wine he’d taken over the past four courses loosening his tongue, and the pleasant stirring caused by Jacob’s handsome face vanished as she realised what their host was saying…

‘Caught two more poachers just last week. They’ll swing if I have anything to do with it. Those village boys don’t seem to learn.’