Page 46

‘Should we not?’

‘Not with a roomful of guests on the other side of this wall, no.’

Jacob allowed her to break away, although something in his eyes suggested he didn’t fully agree with her. ‘Sorry. I thought it might be helpful.’

He stroked her cheek with the back of a gentle finger, sending a ripple of sensation snaking down her spine. ‘The difference in our social positions before we wed doesn’t mean you’re “rubbing my name in the dirt”, Meg. I thought I’d made that clear.’

His caress made her legs feel less than steady. Apparently all it took to tip her off-balance was a soft touch and a deep, lowered voice, and when combined with such sweet words it made her want to forget propriety and fall back into his arms.

She couldn’t give in to that urge, however. As much as she wanted to pretend otherwise, there was still a funeral gathering going on next door, and the renewed awareness of their circumstances brought her harshly back down to earth.

‘I’m sure high-born men have taken low-born wives before and the world kept turning, but accusations of the kind Isabella has been making can’t be so easily swept under the rug. The only way I could be free of suspicion is if Sir Edward finds the person who really tampered with Anthony’s gig, but he doesn’t seem to be making much progress with that.’

‘No, he doesn’t.’ Jacob suddenly looked stern. ‘I’ve spoken to him before but I’ll do so again. As you say, the only way to fight back against Isabella’s slander is with the truth.’

He rubbed his chin. ‘Speaking of slander… I’ve been meaning to ask you something.’

‘What is it?’

‘I’m not making any accusations, but is there anyone in the village you think might have wished Anthony harm? I know he wasn’t popular in Hayworth—for good reason—and I wondered if perhaps someone there had decided to take their revenge?’

Meg hesitated. It was a fair point. No one in the village had a good thing to say about the late Viscount Fernley, but could that aversion have turned into an act of sabotage?

She deliberated for a moment. ‘He was universally detested, but…no.’ She shook her head firmly. ‘I can’t think of anyone who would have gone so far. They’re God-fearing people in Hayworth, church every Sunday and sometimes in between. Nobody there would risk their immortal soul on account of Anthony Fernley.’

‘No. I suppose you’re right.’ Jacob sighed. ‘I just have no idea who it could have been. Anthony was negligent to those he perceived as beneath him but within Society he was charm itself. He was always very eager to make a good impression on those individuals he thought mattered. I can’t imagine who he could have crossed to make them angry enough to do him such ill.’

His reply held a regretful undertone that tugged at her heart. It suggested complex feelings he didn’t seem to want to confront, and she would have reached up to cup his cheek if not for the sound of a door opening nearby.

‘Jacob?’

An instantly recognisable—and just as unwelcome—voice accompanied the creaking door. ‘Jacob, are you out here?’

To Meg’s dismay, Isabella’s sharp face appeared around the edge of their alcove sanctuary. Immediately Meg made to step back from Jacob but he wouldn’t allow it, instead pulling her closer to him as his sister-in-law’s nose turned up in disgust.

‘Oh. Here you are.’

Isabella turned her head, refusing to acknowledge Meg’s presence. ‘I need to speak with you, Jacob. Alone.’

The emphasis she placed on the last word was probably meant to be cutting, but Jacob couldn’t have been less cowed.

‘No.’ He barely allowed her to finish. ‘Anything you need to say to me can be said in front of my wife. I won’t keep secrets from her.’

An ember of pleasure glowed among the ash of Meg’s consternation. When he declared his support for her like that it made her feel as though they were on the same team, beating some of her uncertainty into retreat, but the fact remained that she didn’t want to spend more time with Isabella than was avoidable.

Rising onto her tiptoes she murmured into Jacob’s ear, just catching Isabella’s look of umbrage as she did so. ‘It’s fine. I wanted to step out for some air anyway.’

‘You really needn’t go,’ he muttered back. ‘Feel free to stay if you’d like. I won’t have her chase you away.’

‘I’d rather not be near her unless I must, but I thank you for the sentiment.’

She had no desire to hear what else Isabella might have to say. It wouldn’t be flattering, that was for sure; but there was at least little chance of Jacob taking it seriously, and that was all that mattered. As long as he didn’t believe whatever venom his sister-in-law might spew, Meg wasn’t worried about leaving the two of them alone, and she hoped her deliberately upright posture gave the impression of confidence as she walked away, heading for the side door into the gardens that would let her escape.

I’ll just step out for a moment. Just long enough to pull myself together.

She wasn’t fully convinced by her own argument, but all the same, she couldn’t help a rush of relief when she felt a cool breeze hit her face. A terrace ran along the length of the house and she stood on the cold slabs and breathed in great lungfuls of mellow autumnal air, allowing each exhalation to draw out some of the tension that any interaction with Isabella wreathed her in. The sky above her was overcast and grey but nowhere could be more oppressive than the funereal atmosphere in the drawing room, and as she drifted further away from the house she wished she didn’t have to go back.

A late-blooming rose bush grew in a beautifully untidy tangle nearby. Its fragrance drew her to it, as if she’d been a bee seeking nectar—and fortunately its spreading leaves also provided the perfect cover when she heard the sudden approach of voices coming from the other side.