Her One True Love (4 page)

Matthew glanced at her lap. The continuous clenching and unclenching of her fingers at her pursestrings betrayed her tension. Tension he was certain she'd not felt around him until recently.

He cleared his throat. “You still maintain you're doing the right thing by leaving the village?”

She snapped her gaze to his, her hazel eyes steady and determined. “Of course. I should've explored Papa's house and everything it entails months ago.”

“So why is now your chosen time to make this new beginning? Your father's will was read more than a year ago. Hasn't someone been renting the property?”

“Yes, but the tenancy wasn't renewed and . . .” She looked to her lap. “Other things have happened over the last few months that made me question why I continue to live day after day in a place where nothing ever changes.” She met his eyes. “Now is the right time for me to start exploring my life more fervently.”

Her response brought questions to his tongue, questions he had no right to ask. She had been beside him in one way or another for months before today. Shame pinched hot at his cheeks. He'd never thought to ask her what she needed or sought outside of Biddestone's affairs. He only needed to know she was there when he needed her unwavering support with decisions that might not necessarily be popular with the villagers.

The bitter taste of self-revulsion burned his throat. “I owe you further explanation for my recent behavior.”

She lifted her head, her gaze boring into his before she turned to the window. “You don't owe me anything.”

“Yes, I do.” He took her hand in his, without thinking, as if the contact were a reflex he couldn't control.

She stiffened, but he held firm.

She glanced at Jeannie, a blush rising on her neck as Jeannie snatched her gaze to the window, her cheeks bright with color. Matthew waited.

Jane turned and eased her hand from his. “What is it you have to say, Matthew? I will listen to you but do not understand why you feel you owe me anything.”

He briefly closed his eyes as he grappled to find a suitable explanation for his miserable attitude and cold treatment of her and the many others who had done their best to reach out to him over the past weeks and months. The same people he'd sworn he would never neglect nor close his door upon their visits and needs.

He exhaled. “When Elizabeth left . . . when she told me she had taken a lover, my entire life was ripped from underneath me. Her actions, the clarity in which she delivered her betrayals, knocked me entirely off-kilter. I didn't realize how much I had planned.”

“Such as?”

“A lasting and happy marriage. Children. When Elizabeth left, I felt as though all those things walked out the door with her.”

She stared, unexpected sadness appearing in her eyes. “And you still feel that way?”

He nodded. “I can't imagine that changing for a long, long time.”

“I see.” She turned to the window. “Well, I'm sorry you feel that way. One's happiness should not be entirely given over to another. I have learned over the years, the only person you can truly rely on for your happiness is yourself.”

He frowned. “You don't believe a marriage can bring happiness?”

She faced him, her eyes bright with what looked like tears. “Did you truly love her?”

Jeannie's sharp intake of breath caused Matthew to look at her, even though he still felt the strength of Jane's scrutiny at his temple. Jeannie's eyes were wide before she blinked and looked to her lap.

Matthew clenched his jaw, his study on Jeannie's bowed head as shame engulfed him. “I thought love would come eventually. I tried all I could to encourage it in my heart and hers.” He looked at Jane. “But in the short eighteen months or so we were together, only tolerated companionship emerged.”

“I see.” Jane cleared her throat, her gaze lingering at his mouth before lifting to his eyes. “Then I'm not sure what else you expected.”

Irritation churned inside him. “I expected her fidelity. Was it naïve of me to expect such a thing?”

She swallowed, the determination in her eyes cooling to sadness as she shook her head. “No, that should've been expected.”

“Well, I'm glad we agree on that, at least.”

She lifted her fingers and swiped beneath her eyes. “Disappointment isn't your monopoly, Matthew. Others have known it before you and will continue to do so as long as there is life on earth.”

He had more or less confessed his deepest feelings to her, yet it had done nothing to thaw her coldness. His temper simmered. “I know that.”

“Good. Then you'll also understand and not feel the need to ask me again why I am going to the city.” She tilted her chin, her gaze now bright and clear. “I have suffered heartbreak, rejection, and a blasé ignorance of my feelings. It will be as well to find further dismissal of my emotions in Bath, if that is my destiny, than waiting for another onslaught in Biddestone.”

“Someone has rejected you in Biddestone? But who? What man could possibly—”

Her sharp laugh cut the air. “Oh Matthew, do not worry yourself who this man might be. It is of no further concern to me. I wish to forge a new life now. A life where this individual has no bearing on my decisions or feelings.”

“And what of everyone who loves you in the village? Your family?”

She smiled. “All I do is leave Monica and Thomas a home of their own as a newly married couple, a village to their squire, and a past I'd rather bury. I leave no wreckage, only lessons learned.”

She inched away from him, toward the window, as the interior of the carriage darkened with the incoming clouds and the renewed hostility between them. He scowled and turned to the window. Why had he presumed to see more in Jane when it was abundantly clear her determination to live her own her life was so reminiscent of his estranged wife? Well, that was fine. If Jane wanted her independence, she could damn well have it.

J
ane clasped her hands tighter about her reticule as the carriage continued its agonizingly slow journey toward the city. Matthew's pain at his wife's betrayal, and subsequent estrangement, had been etched upon every inch of his handsome face and in every fleck of his brilliant blue eyes. He might have said he didn't love Elizabeth, but how could that be when he spoke so vehemently about her? At the bare minimum, he missed her.

Shame rolled like a brand over Jane's skin as she thought of the times she had envied Elizabeth's position. What must it feel like to be in a marriage when you were aware your husband did not love you? Jane frowned. Had Elizabeth loved Matthew? Or had Matthew's lack of affection toward her forced her into the arms of another?

His sincerity had been undeniable when he said he'd done all he could to encourage his and Elizabeth's love. Jane knew him. The soft admiration in his eyes when he looked at her; the supportive way he put his arm about the shoulders of the men in the village while doing all he could to help them. Those were what made Matthew so wholly human. The times she saw him in the village, tossing one of the villager's children in the air and catching them until the child screeched with laughter. Those were the times she'd ached to share his life.

All these actions had shown her the real man inside, hadn't they? Or had she imagined she saw something in him that wasn't really there?

Jane lifted her chin. No, nobody could be that blind. Which meant there was every chance Matthew told the truth and never truly loved Elizabeth. Jane closed her eyes. Thank goodness she had tamped down her love for him months ago. Putting space between them after this trip to the city together would be the best way to calm her feeling they were meant for one another.

The increasing volume of comings and goings outside and Jeannie's subsequent gawping through the window were welcome distractions. Jane leaned forward, close to her friend, all too aware of Matthew's movement, barely inches from her side. Forcing her gaze upon the streets of the city as the carriage edged deeper into Bath, Jane purposely pushed her feelings for Matthew deep into the recesses of her heart where they belonged.

They passed by the river and the lowlier parts of the city. The late afternoon mist hung like a network of spiders' webs over its darkening landscape.

Jane sighed and pointed to the clusters of women and children on the pavement. “See that, Jeannie? That is why we're here.”

“The children?”

“Yes. See the condition of their dilapidated houses? Look how their mothers wash their meager clothes over buckets.” Jane shook her head, determination rising like a flame behind her rib cage. “I have led a fortunate life, and the sights of those boarded windows and open doors leading to dark hallways and even darker rooms will be all the reminder I need to keep forging ahead in my endeavors.”

Matthew cleared his throat. “And what is it you have in mind to do exactly?”

Rather than look at him, Jane continued to stare at the passing houses. “I wish to secure a position where I can at least do something to help these women and children.”

“Such as?”

Annoyance scratched at her nerves. She turned and met his eyes, surprised when she didn't see disparagement in his gaze, but genuine interest. She relaxed her shoulders and leaned back against the plush seat. “I'm not certain yet, but it is my intention to find some way to help. Bath is slowly losing its reputation as one of England's cities of play. More and more people are choosing Brighton, or even Europe, for their pleasure. I have learned there are women's groups evolving all over Bath, looking to help those less fortunate. I will seek them out and offer my services.”

He protruded his bottom lip in contemplation, his gaze on her. “I have no doubt they will gladly accept you.”

Her stomach knotted with pathetic pleasure. “Thank you.”

He looked past her to the window.

“I hope you, too, see the struggles and sense of hopelessness.”

He met her gaze. “Of course. Once upon a time you didn't view me as quite the ogre you do now and wouldn't have had to ask me such a question. I love Biddestone and its people, but that doesn't mean I am ignorant to problems so much vaster than those the villagers face.” He drew his gaze over her face. “And I suspect all too strongly the good you will do while you are here.”

She smiled to see the admiration she'd witnessed in his eyes so many times before, and during, his married life, when he looked at her. Could it be the man she admired was still inside Matthew somewhere? Waiting, hoping, to find true happiness again?

Jane pulled her gaze from his and faced the window. She could not allow herself to linger on such romantic notions. Elizabeth's betrayal had hurt him deeply, even if he claimed not to love her . . . and his words had confirmed there was little want in his heart for anyone else.

Jane looked at Jeannie and smiled, forcing away her melancholy. “You are welcome to join me as I look for work, Jeannie. Or if you prefer to stay at the house and look after things there, I will be happy with that decision too. The choice is entirely yours.”

Jeannie grinned. “Thank you, miss . . . Jane. I am too excited to think of what I want to do just now. The city seems so vast . . . so intimidating.”

Jane laughed. “I'm certain we'll become accustomed in no time.”

As they continued their journey toward the more moneyed side of town, where her father's—now Jane's—house was located, the stench from the river Avon lessened. Her visits here during the seasons had been filled with balls, dinners, fun, and laughter. Now she would create a life that meant more than being the dutiful daughter of a wealthy land owner and her mother's lifelong companion. Those days were well and truly behind her.

Eventually the grade of the streets grew steeper until the horses' hooves
clip-clopped
over the cobblestones of Gay Street, higher still, into the Circus. Her inheritance was situated on the end of one of the three curved rows of houses that made up the circumference of John the Elder's beautiful Georgian structure of residential homes.

Matthew had already instructed his groom to her father's address, having been his visitor several times while in the city on business.

The carriage drew to a stop outside her new home and Jane stared up at the three-story house. The carriage swayed as Matthew stood and swung open the door. The cold blast of air blew his masculine scent across her, and Jane took a deep breath, sending up silent gratitude that she had at least made it through the first part of her new beginning, considerably unscathed.

She had no idea if her comments to Matthew about her heartbreak had come across with the cryptic intent she'd hoped for. If he had any suspicions of the depth of her previous feelings for him, she caught no glimpse of it in his expression. Long may his ignorance last. His discovery of her love for him now would be nothing short of mortifying.

Matthew held out his hand to her at the door, and Jane slipped her reticule onto her wrist before laying her hand in his. Pushing her fears of potential humiliation far from her mind, she stepped onto the cobbled road. Matthew would soon be gone from the city, and then her new life would truly begin. The November evening held a chill, but the air was cleaner and clearer at the elevated height above the city. Jane breathed deep as nerves battled with excitement in her stomach.

The house's façade was beautiful, and she couldn't wait to get inside. Her father had always kept the place to himself, preferring the family stay in her mother's friend's house during the seasons he deigned they could come. Jane suspected the house would be as staid and impersonal as Noel Danes. She smiled softly. She would change the décor to her own liking soon enough.

There was a rustle of clothes behind her and Jeannie came to stand beside her. Jane glanced at her and her smile widened to see Jeannie's delighted gaze as she stared at the house.

“Shall we?”

Jane started at the sound of Matthew's voice as he leaned close, his masculine scent drifting beneath her nostrils once more.

“Of course.” She opened her reticule and pulled the front door key from the little pocket inside. Her key. Her very own home. Pride swelled her heart as the final, confused connotations of her father's surprise bequest slipped away.

He had been proven right in his decision to leave Monica the Marksville estate. Maybe he would also be right in his decision to leave Jane his Bath property. With a final fleeting glance behind her at the circular parade, Jane stepped ahead of Matthew and Jeannie and walked up the short pathway to the black painted door, complete with a polished brass knocker.

She slipped the key into the lock and pushed open the door.

The house was in semidarkness, but with the strike of a match behind her, Matthew lit a lamp and the hallway flooded with faint light. Jane turned. Matthew carried the lit match to another lamp and the hallway illuminated further. He blew out the match. “Would you like Simmons to take your cases upstairs?”

“Oh. No. Not yet.” Jane smiled at Matthew's groom, who stood just inside the doorway, one of her suitcases in each hand. “Could you bring all the luggage into the hallway for now? I'll take everything upstairs once I know which room I'd like for my bedroom.”

“As you wish, miss.” Simmons placed the cases on the tiled floor before returning outside.

Matthew strolled forward, his eyes tipped toward the staircase. “Are you not familiar with the house at all?”

Jane looked at him. “You are most likely more familiar with it than me. Papa deemed this place as out of bounds as far as Mama, Monica, and I were concerned.”

“I'm surprised. He was always most welcome toward my visits here.”

“My father had certain views on the roles of men and women. You knew that much about him, surely?”

He smiled. “The previous generation. What can we do?”

She met his smile. “We keep making changes until the world suits our generation better.”

Their gazes locked; their smiles stilled. Jane's heart beat faster as the atmosphere shifted toward their previously shared intimacy, and her attraction toward him threatened to rear its unwanted head.

Blinking, she turned to Jeannie. “Why don't you take one of the lamps through to the drawing room and see if there are means to light a fire? We can stock up on everything else we need tomorrow.”

“Of course.” Jeannie took the lamp Matthew offered and walked slowly along the hallway toward the drawing room.

Simmons's returning footsteps saved Jane from having to look at Matthew, and she quickly took a hatbox from the footman's grasp.

“You're very kind to help me, Simmons. It doesn't seem fair that Squire Cleaves has you fetching and carrying when I'm not certain I have what I need in the kitchen to even offer you a cup of tea.”

The middle-aged footman smiled. “I'm quite certain the squire won't leave either of us parched for long, miss.”

Jane frowned at the twinkle of mischief in Simmons's eyes, but before she could respond, there was a rush of footsteps at the door. “Jane? Jane, are you in there? You are here! Oh Jane, how wonderful to see you.”

Jane stiffened, her heart dropping. “Katy? But how did you know—”

“I didn't. I saw the carriage and came to introduce myself to what I assumed were new tenants.” She placed her hand on Jane's arm. “I do so like to make any visitors to the house welcome since your poor papa's passing. Such a kind man.”

Jane stared. Kind? Her father? She might have loved and respected him, but kindness wasn't a word even Jane could bring herself to use when describing Noel Danes. She forced a smile. “Well, it's very fortunate you live next door. How is your mother?”

Katy gave a dismissive wave. “You know Mother. Anyway . . .” She turned her gaze to Matthew and appraised him from head to toe.

Jane inwardly groaned to see the bright curiosity in Katy's wide green eyes as she shamelessly fluttered her lashes in Matthew's direction. “Won't you introduce me to your handsome companion?”

With her cheeks burning, Jane briefly closed her eyes before meeting Matthew's unwavering gaze. “Matthew, may I introduce Miss Katy Wrexford. Katy, this is Squire Matthew Cleaves of Biddestone.”

Katy's smile froze. “Cleaves?
The
Squire Cleaves?”

Unease rippled through Jane at the drop in Katy's voice and the underlying curiosity, laced with alarm. “Yes. Have you met before?” Jane glanced at Matthew.

His eyes had hardened, and his jaw was tight.

“Matthew was kind enough to escort Jeannie and me—”

Katy laughed, her clear delight obliterating her initial shock. “Well, I must say it is a pleasure to meet you, sir. How exciting to learn you are a good friend of Jane's.” She took a step forward and dipped a curtsy, holding out her hand. “How do you do?”

Matthew took her hand, his mouth a straight line and his cold gaze on Jane. “The pleasure is all mine, Miss Wrexford.”

Jane grimaced her apology. Trouble brewed as the atmosphere plummeted, despite Katy's usual over-the-top enthusiasm. All too aware of Katy's love of gossip and ardent pursuit of a moneyed beau, Jane cleared her throat. “Well, it was very kind of you to stop by, but as you can see, I am perfectly well looked after. Maybe I can call on you tomorrow?”

“I think your footman is waiting for instruction, sir,” Katy murmured, her gaze still firmly on Matthew.

Matthew glowered and turned to Simmons. “Would you be so kind to see if Jeannie has managed to light a fire and some lamps in the drawing room? It seems Miss Danes may have some extra unexpected company this evening.”