To Protect and to Cherish (21 page)

             
The housekeeper looked confused.

             
A sigh slipped out, “I’m afraid he hasn’t decided when he wants it yet, but I do not wish to have him wait when he makes that decision.”

             
Mrs. Bailey smiled. Indeed she looked almost amused.

             
As the music room was the closest chamber to the study, Jillian situated herself so she could see the door.

             
She felt almost ill from her lack of sleep and food, but she was intent upon monitoring her husband’s activities.

             
Mrs. Bailey found her a short while into her vigil.

             
“Might I bring you something to eat, milady?”

             
Jillian didn’t usually like to trouble the staff with extra meals, but she was feeling quite woozy.

             
“Please. If you have some muffins and preserves, that will be sufficient.”

             
Mrs. Bailey left to do her bidding.

             
The door to the study opened just as Baily was returning with food.

             
Jillian thanked the housekeeper before hastening to the corridor to stop her husband, “Slade, would you like to join me?”

             
He scowled – an action that seemed to fast becoming a habit.

             
She took a silent breath in and let it out, then turned and went back to the music room.

She spread some preserves on a muffin, knowing full well she was not going to be able to swallow it.
Despite regular rejection in one form or another over the past few months, she found she was not immune to it.

Her eyes filled with tears.

“Have you not eaten today?” Slade appeared next to her.

She shook her head, not daring to look up at him.

Slade sat down and looked at her, “And not last night either?”

She shook her head again and began pouring the coffee.

They sat and ate in silence.

Jillian did not know what to make of him. He seemed to be watching her, but she refused to chance a look.

“I don’t understand why you did it,” he still sounded angry, but at least he was talking.

Her question came in the form of a frown.

“You could have let Oswin care for me.”

“Slade, you were injured. You were near freezing. How could I have left that to someone else?” she had to look up at him.

He was staring down at her.

“You’ve been crying.”

She didn’t deny it but looked back at her hands folded in her lap.

“You are upset that I have spent little time with you, but you find my touch – my presence revolting.”

Jillian’s eyes shot back up to him, “What?!”

His brow was furrowed in anger, “
Do not deny it.”

“Whenever have I said or implied that I do not desire your
company. . .that I do not desire you?”

She watched her husband’s face flush, but he did not look angry; he looked ashamed.

              “You told her – my sister – that day in your chambers,” his eyes were down cast, his jaw clenched, and his hands balled into fists.

             
Jillian wracked her memory but came up blank, “What day?”

             
“The day you told her how you felt about me . . .about us . . .”

             
Jillian realized she may have just heard a clue about why her husband’s attitude had changed so drastically, but she was still having trouble placing a conversation with Amy.

             
Jillian took a chance and reached across the space between them, laying a hand on his, “Please, Slade. I do not understand.”

             
He sighed, “My sister. In your room. I heard you talking. I was in the next room.”

             
His words sparked a memory, “You mean the day Amy was getting a massage after her ride? When we,” she suddenly remembered talking about Salvaje, “you heard me,” she paused, wondering how to explain not telling him sooner about her accident. “You know.”

             
He stood up, “I do not know why we are speaking of this. It will change nothing.”

             
She looked up at him, “I am sorry I did not tell you, Slade. I was afraid you would be upset. I did not want you to know.”

             
“I can well imagine,” he was pacing, his limp causing a strange gait.

             
“I was embarrassed,” she admitted.

             
He was not placated. In fact, he looked angrier still, “And yet you told my sister. You could not tell me, but you could tell my sister.”

             
“She did not warn me,” Jillian knew the words were a mistake the instant they left her mouth.

             
“
Warn
you?”

             
His words were a mere whisper, and Jillian could see a vein throbbing in his temple.

             
Jillian could understand her husband was upset she had ridden the very horse he had cautioned her not to ride. She could even understand his anger about discovering she had met with an accident on that very same horse. But this fury seemed beyond reason.

             
He leaned down toward her and spoke into her face, “How was she supposed to warn you? Was she supposed to tell you your husband would be a large sweating beast you would have to shove off yourself?”

             
He turned and stormed out of the room, his limp barely noticeable.

             
Jillian’s brown creased in great confusion.

             
Then realization hit.

             
Not caring if she was behaving like the lady of the house, Jillian picked up her skirts and ran after her husband.

             
She saw him heading toward the marsh.

             
“Slade!” she called after him.

             
He didn’t slow his stride.

             
The need to breathe forced her to stop her race. She watched him approach the decrepit steps. He managed the first one just fine, but his leg gave out on the second and he was instantly on the ground.

             
Jillian picked up her pace again and hurried the rest of the distance.

             
“Go away,” he growled at her while trying to recover himself.

             
“I will not,” she didn’t care that she was panting.

             
He attempted again to stand but managed only to land his backside on the top step.

             
She sat next to him, “I rode Salvaje.”

             
“What?” he snapped. “I told you not to do that.”

             
“I know, and I am sorry.”

             
He looked across the yard at a gardener. Jillian knew her husband would sooner seek help from that man than from her.

             
“He took off across the field,” she hurried to explain, “and then he threw me and landed on me.”

             
A flicker of concern lit Slade’s eyes momentarily, “Were you hurt?”

             
Jillian took hope from that flicker.

             
“More embarrassed than anything. I only told your sister about it because she was in so much pain from her ride.”

             
Slade stared across the field - silent.

             
Jillian picked up his hand and was pleased when he did not resist, “He was very heavy, Slade. Heavy and sweating.”

             
Slade looked at her, his intense gaze searching her face. She could see the cogs of his mind turning to process this new information.

             
“Jillian,” the choked sound coming from her husband’s lips nearly made her cry.

             
She sat and waited for him to speak.

             
It took him several attempts, but he finally managed to speak, “Can you ever forgive me?”

             
She leaned her head against his shoulder, “For months, you have been thinking that I find your touch repulsive. I am the one who needs to apologize.”

             
“You were not the one who made the mistake, Jillian,” he pressed his face into her hair.

             
“But I did not tell you,” she looked up. “I should have told you before how much I love it when you hold me,” she licked her lips. “I should have told you that I like holding your hand.”

             
He squeezed her fingers.

             
“Or your arms around me,” she shifted so he could stretch his arm around her.

             
She smiled, “Or your kiss.”

             
He obliged her.

             
Upon hearing that the master had stormed from the house, Oswin raced out the door with an overcoat. He rounded the bend, but stopped short upon seeing the duke and duchess sitting on the broken stile.

             
He backed up slowly and returned quietly to the house.

             
“I believe the mistress has found him,” he told a worried Bailey with a glimmer in his eye. “She’ll see that he comes in soon.”

CHAPTER
16

“It appears you and Slade have resolved your differences,” Amy’s hands rested on the small swell of
her belly.

             
Jillian nodded, “It was a terrible misunderstanding, but I believe we have learned an important lesson about speaking plainly with each other.”

             
Amy glanced toward the men who were standing on a distant rise, “Can you not tell me what it was about?”

             
Jillian almost laughed at the idea. Amy would be mortified to hear such details.

             
She quelled her humor and simply shook her head.

             
“I never expected him to fall in love, Jill,” Amy turned to a new subject. “I believe he must have been taken with you when he picked you up alongside the road.             

             
“A duke falling in love with a tailor’s assistant?” she shook her head. “I think not. It was his kindness that led him to assist me that day, his curiosity that drove him to find me at my uncle’s, and his honor that compelled him to marry me.”

             
“And at what point did he fall in love?”

             
Jillian shrugged, “I have no answer to that, but I am grateful that he did because I do love him, Amy – so very much.”

             
Amy smiled at her friend’s answer, but she hadn’t needed to hear it. That the duke and duchess were in love with each other was evident to all who could see.