Historical Romance May 2017 Books 1 - 4. Bronwyn Scott
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in their admiration. Tonight, she wanted to hide it and herself. She should be grateful he’d thought of her and wanted to make her happy, but it was all on the surface, as false as the sets on the Covent Garden Theatre stage. Beneath the sparkle of the gems were so many questions and troubles she had no idea how to untangle. There’d been no time in the carriage, even during the moment when, with his hands on her shoulders, she’d wanted to reach out to him and ask if he still cherished and cared for her as he’d promised he would.
While Jane spoke with the Charton sisters, Jasper remained beside her as stiff as a horsehair cushion. He did what was expected of him, greeting his twin brothers with his usual charming smiles and jokes, his clothes impeccable as always, but she caught the tension around his eyes, the subtle avoiding of her questioning glances. It made it difficult for Jane to hold her smile and pretend, like him, everything was splendid.
She believed she was fooling everyone until Mrs Charton approached them, studying them with motherly regard. ‘Jasper, Jane, you both look so pale. Tomorrow night you must come with us to Vauxhall Gardens. The distraction will help you both.’
‘I think it would be lovely,’ Jane lied, adding another to the many already accumulated. Jasper was right, it ate at her like the distance between them did.
‘Perhaps another evening, I have some business to attend to,’ Jasper refused his mother with an apologetic smile, but it did nothing to ease the tiredness in his eyes. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one being worn down by this charade. How he’d managed it for so long while living in his parents’ house she couldn’t imagine.
‘Jasper, come here. Giles wants to talk to you about something called a railway.’ Mr Charton drew Jasper away, while Mrs Charton occupied herself with her grandchildren.
Jane was left to the sisters who dragged her to the arrangement of sofas in front of the fireplace, sat her down and peppered her with questions about how she and Jasper were getting on. Jane twisted herself into knots making up the imaginary life she lived with Jasper, the one they should be enjoying instead of this half-marriage.
Camille, Milton’s wife, sat across from her, listening intently and saying very little. More than once she caught Jane’s eye with a solemnity to make Jane wonder if the woman suspected Jane’s unease or if it was lingering discomfort over what had happened between them. For the first time Jane didn’t care about the past or Milton or Camille. All she cared about was Jasper and how there seemed to be more than the distance of the room between them.
She watched him while he spoke with his father. He didn’t notice her at first, but then his eyes met hers and the regret darkening them made her want to rush to him. Instead, she was forced to remain on the sofa pretending happiness for the benefit of his family. It made her feel more like a trained monkey than a married woman.
When the sisters at last lost interest in discussing Jane’s married life, Olivia stood to suggest a new amusement. ‘Who’d like to join me in a game of whist?’
A noticeable quiet drifted over the room.
Mr Charton thumped his hand on the table beside him, making a statue of a shepherdess rattle on her porcelain base. ‘Not in my house you won’t.’
‘Risking a pence or two among family isn’t going to land anyone in debtors’ prison, Father,’ Olivia scoffed. ‘After all, it’s not as if I’m suggesting we establish a gambling den in the sitting room!’
Jane exchanged a wary glance with Jasper, wondering if Olivia suspected them. She didn’t believe so. Olivia had always been the most rebellious and outspoken of the three sisters and much more like Jasper than any of the other girls.
Mr Charlton levelled a warning finger at his daughter. ‘If you’d seen the many men who’ve wasted my loans and their livelihoods on cards, you wouldn’t think it so funny.’
‘Everyone understands your feelings on the matter, Henry,’ Mrs Charton gently chided from where she held court near the window, surrounded by her grandchildren. She wore her favourite red-silk gown with a matching turban her daughters called old-fashioned, but which she adored. She was still lithe, despite having borne seven children.
The subject would have been dropped if Milton hadn’t decided to step in. ‘It’s a disgusting habit and, like Father, I’d be ashamed of anyone in this family who ever resorted to such a lowly way of life.’
‘Says the man who’s proven his talent at sneaking around,’ Jasper hissed.
The room went silent—even the grandchildren stopped talking. Across from Jane, Camille lowered her eyes and her cheeks turned bright red.
‘I think you’ve been away too long and forgotten how things are done in this family,’ Milton hissed back. Beside him, Alice allowed Jacob a drink from her glass. Jacob started to hand it to Giles when a warning look from Mrs Charton made him hand it back to his sister.
‘We can chastise a man for his sins, but once they’re done they’re finished. Now on to better topics,’ Mrs Charton insisted, bringing the matter to a close. But it didn’t smooth Jasper or Milton’s ruffled feathers, or ease Jane’s guilt. The family had accepted her even after the debacle with Milton and here she was, sitting in their midst, as two-faced as Milton.
‘Let’s play musical chairs instead,’ Alice suggested. Chairs scraped over the floor as the siblings and their husbands dragged them into place and Lily struck a chord on the piano to begin the game.
Olivia participated, but appeared more bored than amused. It was clear she and her brewery-owner husband didn’t mind small amounts of gambling. Jane wondered if she’d side with her and Jasper if their secret ever came out. She didn’t know Olivia well enough to be sure.
While the elder sisters and their husbands laughed and raced around to find open chairs, Milton sulked in the corner with Giles, who rolled his eyes at having been cornered by his complaining elder brother. When he finally managed to slip away and join Jasper and Mr Charton, Milton’s wife fawned over her spouse, trying to bring him out of his sulkiness to join the game. When Milton rebuffed her to help himself to the brandy in the corner, his wife remained by the wall, ill at ease among all the laughter.
Jane felt sorry for her. It wasn’t an emotion she expected to encounter, but there it was. She had more experience than she cared to admit with a husband pushing her away.
The brewer raced around the chairs behind Olivia who reached the open one first. The activity distracted Jane from noticing Jasper’s absence. She had no idea when or where he’d gone. No one else was missing.
Did he leave without me?
She shifted nervously on her feet. She used to read in the papers about husbands sneaking out never to be seen again. There was a ship leaving for America tomorrow. She was about to ask Mrs Charton where Jasper had gone when the rustle of skirts beside her made her turn. Camille approached, as pale as always, but there was a hint of determination in her mouse-like eyes. Jane forced herself not to scurry away from her like some startled elephant.
‘Good evening, Jane. I haven’t had a chance to speak with you the last two times we’ve been at events, but I wished to congratulate you on your wedding.’
‘Thank you.’ Jane did her best to be gracious. She and Camille had never been more than passing acquaintances, her father and mother moving in the same circles as the Rathbones and the Chartons. When they were young, they’d seen one another at birthday parties and teas, but they’d never been close. Other than having stolen Jane’s fiancé, Camille had never done or said an ill thing to Jane.
The laughter of the other married siblings rang through the room. It covered the quiet conversation between the ladies, although Jane couldn’t help but notice Mrs Charton regarding them before she turned back to her youngest grandson.
‘I also want to apologise for what happened,’ Camille stated without hesitation.
Jane gaped at Camille. She hadn’t expected this. She’d prefer it to be Milton, but she’d take it from the wife.
‘I’m