A waltz was forming when Viscount Ashford approached her. Robert was leading his sister onto the floor, and she had been contemplating finding a quiet corner to sit down, as her feet were getting sore.
Ashford bowed and said, “Can I tempt you to a waltz, Your Grace?” His usually disheveled appearance was enhanced by a hectic color in his cheeks and a blazing fire in his eyes that made her wonder if he had been drinking. However, he seemed steady enough on his feet, and his speech wasn’t slurred.
“Would you mind if we sat this one out? My feet are aching,” she confessed.
His shoulders dropped which made her realize how tense his body had been, and he said, “Of course. Would you like to sit in the garden? It’s devilish hot in here.”
“That would be lovely,” she said, resting her hand on his arm. She wondered what was amiss. His usual smile was absent, and he seemed to be laboring under the effects of some strong emotion, despite his obvious attempts to mask it.
He led her over to the double doors that gave onto the terraced gardens that dominated the rear courtyard. The air was appreciably cooler out here, the sky a velvet midnight blue scattered with stars, and a rising moon to plate everything silver. Jasmine filled the air with its scent, and Sarah reflected it was a romantic setting. If only Robert were here to share it with her. Instead, she had a troubled viscount for her companion. She glanced at him, but he was frowning directly ahead and appeared oblivious of her scrutiny.
Lanterns, set on poles at intervals, lit up the terrace and the paths that meandered among them, each terrace separated by a hedge. They wandered along one until they found a bench set back a bit from the main path, by a fishpond.
Seating herself, she folded her hands in her lap and watched the fish flitting about in the water, flashes of silver catching the light.
“What troubles you?” she asked, turning to look at her companion. He was seated with his elbows on his knees his hands clasped loosely, and his head slightly bowed as hecontemplated the pavement before him. She suspected it wasn’t the pavement he was seeing. He had been so kind to her when she was troubled, and she wanted to return the favor, for he was quite one of her favorite people.
He started as if pulled from his thoughts and said, “My apologies. I was woolgathering. What did you say?”
“I asked you what was wrong. You are not yourself tonight. Is one of the children ill?”
“No, they are all robustly healthy, thank the lord.” He hesitated, as if not sure if he should say more.
She laid a hand on his arm. “You have something on your mind, however. A trouble shared is often a trouble halved, Emrys.”
He swallowed, visibly moved, and said with a husk in his voice, “I doubt that in this case, Sarah, but I thank you for your kindness.”
She waited in silence as he appeared to gather himself. Finally, he spoke. “I discovered tonight a letter addressed to my wife.” He stopped, swallowing again. “I wasn’t trying to pry, you understand. I was looking for a tie pin that I had mislaid, and I opened a drawer. I found this letter stuffed at the back. It had my wife’s name on it. Of course I shouldn’t have opened it, but”—he took a breath and expelled it forcefully—“I thought I recognized the handwriting as belonging to a friend of mine. At least someone I thought was a friend.”
She patted his arm comfortingly and waited, her heart wrung by his obvious distress and alarmed by what all this might mean.
“I shall not reveal the name of the individual, but the tenor of the letter made it clear that this person has strong feelings toward my wife. And from what I can gather from the missive, she has done nothing to dissuade him from sharing those feelings with her. She has, I can only conclude, in fact encouraged them.”
“Oh dear! Have you confronted her about it? Or him?”
He shook his head. “I only discovered the letter just before we came down for dinner this evening. I have had no opportunity—I have been trying to decide what to do!” He rubbed his eyes as if they ached. “I do not want to cause a scene and ruin your ball, nor do I want to create a scandal. If there is the slightest chance that I have misread, misinterpreted what is meant... I—” He stopped and dropped his face in his hands, and his shoulders visibly shook, although he made no sound.
She put a hand on his shoulder awkwardly. She was accustomed to comforting little brothers when they scraped a knee or fell out of a tree, but she didn’t quite know what to do with a grown man in tears. “Indeed, if you are mistaken—”
“Unfortunately, my instinct tells me that I am not.” He lifted his head, and finding a handkerchief, he mopped his face and blew his nose. “Things have been strained between Caro and me for some time. I thought it was just a passing thing, that time would mend it, but—”
“Surely, if you speak with her? It sounds like nothing irrevocable has occurred, that this is perhaps just a warning and that if you take steps to rectify the situation, all may be well.”
He smiled grimly. “Perhaps you are right. I hope so, but I fear...” He sighed heavily. “We have been married for almost ten years. We were very young. I was twenty-two and Caro only eighteen when we wed. But I was quite sure I had met the love of my life, and she seemed equally smitten with me. You are only newly married and will not know, but two people who live very closely can hurt each other immeasurably without even meaning to. In fact, it is often far worse where strong emotions are involved. If one cared less there would be less damage done.
“I love her to distraction and would not hurt her for the world, but I know that actions of mine have hurt her, though I never intended it so. I thought she had forgiven me, but I fearnot. It is possible, you know, to live day to day and for everything to appear to be harmonious on the surface, yet for there to be deep undercurrents of resentment building in the shadows. I see now that she has been telling me for some time that she is not happy, but I was oblivious.”
“Then it is not too late!”
“I hope not.” He heaved a sigh and put his handkerchief away. “Thank you for your counsel. You were right, speaking of it has helped me find some perspective and perhaps some hope.”
She smiled, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to give him a hug, as she would a brother. His arms wrapped round her, and she hugged his solid frame, attempting to convey some comfort to this dear man, who didn’t in her view deserve such pain.
“Ashford!” The duke’s thunderous roar made them spring apart as Robert barreled toward them, his face red with rage. “You wolf in sheep’s clothing! How dare you maul my wife?”
Ashford rose to his feet to protest but didn’t have the chance.
“Robert!” shrieked Sarah as her husband pulled back a fist and punched Ashford square in the face. The viscount staggered under the blow, and Sarah caught his arm to steady him, rounding on Robert.What has got into him? Is he drunk? How could he hit his best friend?
