Chapter Eleven

      Jane climbed the stairs to their room in search of Jasper, her feet dragging with her exhaustion. It had taken ages to fall asleep after the row with him this morning. When she had, it’d been a light sleep only. Near sunrise he’d climbed in beside her, careful not to touch her. She’d pretended to be asleep to avoid another argument, but she’d remained wide awake, sure he did, too. Around six, when he’d at last fallen into a deep sleep, she’d risen, unable to lie there any longer.

      She’d gone downstairs and thrown herself into business for the club before paying a visit to the furniture maker to arrange for the sale of the remaining things in the warehouse and to purchase more sedate items for the private conversation rooms. She was back home now and there was no more avoiding him today, not when she needed to discuss the transfer of goods from the warehouse to the furniture maker. Jasper had granted her a free hand to make contracts or buy and sell items, but some matters still required his assistance.

      The sight in their bedroom stopped her short.

      Mrs Hodgkin and the scullery maid were carrying Jasper’s things out of their room and into the adjoining one.

      Fear slammed into her chest. He doesn’t want to be with me any more.

      ‘What are you doing?’ she asked the housekeeper, hating the way her voice shook.

      Mrs Hodgkin stopped, surprised by the question. ‘Setting his things in the other room as Mr Charton requested.’

      ‘But this is his room.’

      ‘I thought you’d be more comfortable if you had this one to yourself.’ Jasper’s voice carried from behind Jane. Mrs Hodgkin and the scullery maid slipped away to finish their task as Jane faced her husband. ‘I don’t want to disturb you as I come and go at night, nor can I be disturbed when I’m sleeping in the mornings.’

      He made it seem as if it was for her benefit when in reality it was for his. She refused to allow it to stand. ‘And you thought to inform the servants before you told me?’

      ‘You’ve been gone for some time,’ he stated as if it was reason enough to take action behind her back. It made her wonder what else he was doing and not telling her about, like the letter and the woman who’d written it.

      ‘And you were so eager to be out of my room you couldn’t wait?’ She might not have wanted to hurt him at the auction, but she wouldn’t mind doing so now. All she could see was her having to face Philip, her friends, all of the Fleet while they sneered at her for not having been able to keep a husband. ‘How long until you decide to leave this house as well?’

      He had the nerve to balk at the question. ‘Never.’

      ‘Then am I to go?’

      He hesitated before answering in a measured voice, ‘Jane, this changes nothing between us except where I sleep. Most married couples don’t share a room and it will only be until I give up the hell and return to normal hours.’

      ‘And when will that be? Have you spoken to Mr Bronson about it, made any arrangement, or were you too busy packing up your things to see to your own affairs?’

      He pressed his lips tightly together and she knew she was right. It terrified her because it meant she might be right about his leaving, too. It was the man from the sitting room this morning appearing again. It frightened her as much as seeing his things piled on the bed in the adjoining room.

      ‘This isn’t right, Jasper, and you know it, and nothing you say will convince me otherwise.’

      His face softened, as if he sensed his decision had hurt her and he wanted to soothe the sting. He slipped his arm around her waist and tried to pull her close. ‘Having separate rooms doesn’t mean you’ll always be sleeping alone.’

      She went stiff in his arms, waiting for him to apologise to her and explain what had happened last night at the hell and promise her things between them would be fine again, but he didn’t. Instead he brushed her cheek and temple with his lips.

      The stubborn woman inside her wanted to push him away, but the one who craved his affection made her languid in his arms. Maybe this was his way of apologising and making things right between them, the way last night had been his means of seeking comfort. He made a trail of kisses across her cheek and down to her jaw and caressed the hollow of her neck with his tongue.

      She tilted back her head and closed her eyes, savouring the sweep of moisture and the sweet tickle of his breath. She forgot all of her arguments for or against the plan as he began to undo the small laces at the back of her dress. It wasn’t an attempt to keep them apart. He wanted her—it was apparent in the quickness of his breath in her ear and the eagerness of his fingers against her skin. She was his wife and this arrangement wouldn’t be for ever.

      Then she turned her head and noticed his things laid out on the bed in the adjoining room. It was no coincidence Jasper had thought of this arrangement after she’d confronted him and refused to leave him be. With his kisses he was trying to pretend everything from this morning hadn’t happened and all was resolved between them, but it wasn’t.

      She wrested out of his embrace. ‘Don’t try to placate me. The next time you attempt to make love to me, be sure it’s because you want me, not because you want your way.’

      She stormed out of the room and down the hall, refusing to be humoured like a child or made to come or go according to his whims. She’d hold out on him until he finally told her something or decided he wanted separate rooms to become separate lives.

      She came to a halt at the top of the stairs, all her early morning worries rushing back to her. I should march in there and confront him, refuse to allow whatever it is he is trying to do, but her usual stubbornness failed her and she didn’t move. She was wary of what else he might do if she did insist on them sharing a room. She didn’t want to make demands, drive him away, or lose the warmth of his touch or the joy of his company. Maybe I was too fast to anger and walk out. If she’d held him tighter, been more complacent instead of haranguing, she wondered if she might have changed his mind.

      She went downstairs to the sitting room and began to pace, confused and lost about what to do. His embrace last night before their fight, and their time at the club, had contradicted everything he was saying and doing today, but he was withdrawing from her and she must stop it, even if she didn’t know how. She wished there was someone she could speak with, but if she dared broach the subject with one of Jasper’s sisters, the story would spread through the family like a fire and probably jump to the Rathbone household. Heaven knew what Philip would say. It eliminated Laura as a confidant, too, especially since Laura and Philip had no secrets between them. Though he kept his business separate from his family, he was at home in his office during the day, taking as much interest in Laura’s life as she did in his. She could speak with Mrs Fairley, but the modiste was in Salisbury visiting her sister and not expected back for another week.

      For all the change in her situation and surname, she might as well be a spinster again.

      She stared at the bookshelf across the room, noting how her old novels mingled effortlessly with the ones Jasper had inherited from his uncle. If only she knew how to make her and Jasper’s hearts and lives fit together so neatly. She could balance ledgers and negotiate contracts but she couldn’t win her husband’s love or his confidence.

      Then one green-leather spine with gold-embossed letters caught her notice. She slipped it out from among the others.

      Glenarvon.

      She smiled as she traced the shiny title. It had been one of the first books Mrs Hale had secreted for her years ago. The two of them had read it, sneaking off to the garden to discuss the scandalous tome away from Philip’s hearing and his disapproval.

      Mrs Hale!

      She clutched the book to her chest. Speaking to Mrs Hale would mean breaking