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“It is entirely different!”
“How is it different? You almost married the countess! Am I to believe you never kissed her? Thought about bedding her?” Ava panted, her face pink with fury. “Do you think I’m not jealous of her? It was rumored she was your lover for months! But have I said a word about that? No, I have not!” She dashed a hand across her cheeks. “She’s dark and beautiful, elegant, sophisticated, the perfect lady! Everything I’m not!”
“My God, Ava, she doesn’t hold a candle to you!” he said appalled. “I love you, Ava, always and forever!”
“Do you?” She seemed to wilt a little then, swaying toward him.
He crossed the room, seizing her in his arms. “How could you doubt that?”
“How could you doubt me?” she asked, a tear rolling down her cheek.
“Oh, Ava!” He wiped the tear away. “I’m sorry, sweetheart!” Tightening his arms around her, he kissed her. Her arms tightened around his neck, and he rested his face against her hair as she buried her face in his shoulder. “But don’t you see darling, it is different. I haven’t seen Is—the countess since I broke things off with her before our wedding. But the gossips will have a field day if they see you with Lannister after the rumors—”
She lifted her head. “What rumors?”
“When I came back from Ravenshaw, it was all over London that you had run off with Lannister! It was only the announcement of our wedding that silenced the gossip.”
“I still don’t see—”
“The fact is, people don’t forget things like that, and Lannister’s reputation is bad enough that people will think the worst given the slightest provocation, or even none at all! I don’t wish to have it whispered that my wife is cuckolding me with London’s most notorious rake!”
“What difference does it make if you know it’s not true?”
“Damn it, Ava, if you love me, you will stop arguing with me about this and accede to my wishes. I’m your husband! I’ve a right to ask you to behave with the propriety befitting your station!”
She pulled away from him, her face flushing.
“So you’re ashamed of me? Is that it? You care more about what people might say than the truth?”
“No, that is not what I said—”
“It sounded like it to me!” She turned away.
“Ava—!”
“Go away!” she said with impassioned rage. “You care about appearances more than you care about me!”
“That isn’t true.” He spoke quietly, but realized she wasn’t of a mind to hear him. “I hope you will think about what I have asked and come to your senses. I need to dress. I will see you in an hour.” He left her, an ache in his chest and a bitter kind of despair threatening to swamp him.
*
Ava sank down on her dressing table stool and stared at her reflection in the mirror, appalled at what had just happened. She felt as if she had been slapped in the face by a stranger. She suddenly saw Jerome in an entirely new light. He had always been someone who took inordinate pains to make a good impression. She knew that. She knew he cared about his appearance and cared about winning.
But she had always seen these things as virtues to be admired, because he was a leader of fashion and he always won everything he attempted. Other men envied him, and ladies wanted to be seen with him. Women adored him, not only because he was beautiful, but because he was accomplished, perfect!
That he would put those things ahead of her feelings made her feel as if he didn’t care for her at all. His words of love were hollow. He would love her if she behaved like a perfect lady. Like the countess! The old stab of jealousy rose up and bit her—hard. And with it came those feelings of inadequacy she had tried to stifle.
Her maid appeared at that moment to dress her, and she pushed down her desire to indulge in a hearty bout of tears. She submitted to being disrobed, washed, having her hair done, and being dressed in one of her new evening gowns. It was made of shimmering blue silk, and she had been excited to show it to Jerome, who would appreciate it, but now that felt hollow and brittle. How am I going to get through tonight feeling like this?
