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‘Yes. But in this case, I confess I’m glad of the advantage.’

He couldn’t see her face while she was fiddling with the fringe on her shawl, but he heard her bitterness loud and clear. ‘I may not be tried by a court, but I will be by your peers. Thanks to Isabella, all of Society must know about my origins by now, and she will have been certain to try to convince them of my guilt. If it was just me who would be touched by her malice, I could bear it, but when I think of the damage it’ll do to your good name…’

Jacob shook his head. ‘I’m not like Anthony. My reputation is nothing when set beside things that really matter.’

She didn’t disagree with him. Hopefully her renewed silence was a sign she’d taken some reassurance from his words, and he chose to interpret it as such; but, if he’d been able to see the undimmed apprehension in her eyes as she looked down into her lap, he would have known that he was wrong.

Chapter Eleven

‘I don’t feel as though I should be here.’

Meg could feel the stares as she stood beside the drawing-room fireplace. They ranged from curious to sympathetic to openly hostile, and if Jacob hadn’t been glued to her black-clad shoulder she might have fled as she spied yet another guest looking her up and down.

‘You absolutely should. You’ve committed no crime. If you’d hidden away, you would have looked guilty, but like this everyone can see we have nothing to conceal.’

He was probably right, but all the same hiding was precisely what she felt like doing. Those currently eyeing her were in large part the same acquaintances and relations who had attended Celia’s christening only the week before, although on this occasion some of them were markedly less friendly. After the short service in the estate chapel, Jacob had been obliged to invite all the mourners back to Wellbourne House for the funeral dinner, and now that almost all her private business had been laid open to the world, Meg couldn’t recall ever having been so self-conscious among a group of people in her life.

‘We still have one secret,’ she mumbled back, quietly enough that only Jacob could hear. ‘Isabella doesn’t know you married me to save me from being hanged as a poacher.’

‘No, and we’ll keep it that way. I don’t think she needs more ammunition.’

She cast him a sidelong look, much preferring to focus on him rather than anyone else in the room. His face was unnaturally expressionless and she wondered, once again, whether it was from strain or perhaps unexpected grief that he was determined not to show.

Was he mourning Anthony? It was a question she hadn’t been able to find the nerve to ask him and, as he was apparently resolved to give little away himself, she had no way of knowing for sure. There had been no warmth between the two half-brothers while both had been alive, but blood was thicker than water, and it made her heart ache to think of Jacob harbouring unspoken pain.

No doubt he feels conflicted about sharing his feelings with me, though. Anthony did almost have me transported or worse. Probably he doesn’t think I’d make the most compassionate audience—although he could do worse.

Meg was very careful not to let her eye wander to the other side of the room. Isabella hadn’t attended the funeral, citing deep distress and fear she’d be unable to control her weeping as reasons not to stand in the chill of the churchyard, although she seemed to be managing to keep her composure as she held court near the drawing room door. Every now and again she dabbed her dry eyes with a black handkerchief, soaking up the coos and caresses of her friends, able to cope with the attention very well for someone apparently suffocated by grief.

‘She must be hating that I’m here. I would, if I were in her shoes.’

A tendon moved in Jacob’s neck. ‘Think nothing of that,’ he said shortly. ‘This is your house now and I won’t have her chasing you out of your rightful place. You are Viscountess Fernley. The only reason Isabella has been allowed to stay here is on account of Dr Pryce saying Celia is still too young to travel very far. I care about my niece, even if I can’t say the same about her mother. Soon, however, Isabella will leave for her parents’ estate, and you’ll have Wellbourne House all to yourself.’

A maid passed by with a tray of glasses and Meg took one, more for some way to occupy her hands than out of thirst. Her face was hot, the flush simmering just beneath the surface of her skin flaring every time she caught someone else whispering about her in a corner.

‘It feels cruel to take someone’s home from them. When I thought Pa might lose his, I was devastated. As…difficult as Isabella is being, I’m still not sure about evicting so recent a widow.’

‘Difficult?’ Jacob huffed a dry laugh. ‘I’d have more of your kind-heartedness if I thought her grief was in any way genuine. Have you noticed she only cries when she thinks someone’s watching? Even then there are no real tears.’ His lip curled in distaste. ‘When she married Anthony, she was clearly thrilled with the respect a viscountess could command. Now he’s dead, she revels in the sympathy shown at his loss.’

‘You’re very cynical.’

‘I’m very accurate. Theirs was not a love match. Isabella married my brother for his position, and she’s most furious that it was taken away from her again so soon. She’s angry that all the power and influence is now yours and she’s trying to make you pay for usurping her crown.’

Meg looked down into her glass. She disliked orgeat, but she’d just noticed Isabella glaring at her from across the crowded room, and it tempted her to take a much larger sip than she might have otherwise. Isabella and her cronies were staring over with such poisonous loathing that it struck her like pinpricks on her skin, and Meg felt herself shift uneasily beneath the weight of it. Such unblinking hatred was surely something nobody could have borne without discomfort?

It was a ridiculous situation all round. She’d never sought power or influence, or any of the other things Jacob had said she now possessed, and yet somehow they had landed in her lap, along with resentment from those who believed someone of her origins didn’t deserve such distinction. The more she thought about it, the more ludicrous it became, welling up and up until there was little she could do to guard her tongue.

‘How am I supposed to do justice to a title that’s been held by the women of your family for generations?’ she asked hopelessly. ‘It’s only been mine for a few days and already my reputation is in tatters. Being associated with me may ruin you and the Fernley name for generations to come. Our marriage is rubbing your name in the dirt.’

‘Don’t say that.’

Jacob frowned as he scanned her face. He took in her uncomfortably flushed cheeks and the unhappy set of her mouth, his own hardening when he saw how valiantly she was fighting to remain composed.

‘Come with me.’

Abruptly he held out his hand. It happened too suddenly for it to occur to her to do anything other than take it, numerous pairs of eyebrows raising around them as he led her from the room.

She had to pass Isabella on the threshold and she held her breath as the other woman drew aside sharply, retreating as though Meg had an illness she didn’t want to catch. She seemed on the verge of spitting something, but a threatening look from Jacob made her back down, allowing Meg to brush past as she sought the sanctuary of the hall outside.