‘Baroness Winterborne told me what you’d discussed in the ladies’ retiring room and I know that’s why you suddenly fled,’ he said, his words coming out in such a rush they were almost garbled.
‘I did not flee,’ she stated, even if she had, but she certainly was not going to admit it. ‘I had simply had enough of the wedding and your friends and wanted to spend some time with my own friends.’
The confused expression remained on his face, for which she was grateful. If he had smiled at her obvious lie, she would have been even more furious at him for finding amusement in something so painful.
‘I’m sorry if Baroness Winterborne upset you. She assures me it was not her intention.’
The anger bubbling inside her surged even higher. How dare he mention his ex-lover? How dare he inform her that the two of them had been discussing her? How dare he suggest that she was upset just because that woman…?
Like a deflating balloon, she collapsed back on the settee, the fight going out of her. What was the point in lying to herself any longer?
‘Yes, she did upset me, but her words reminded me of our original arrangement. Something which I believe we should put into effect now.’
‘Why now?’
Because if I stay with you any longer, my love for you will grow even stronger and it will be harder for me to leave. Then, when you leave me for another woman, instead of my heart being broken in two it will be shattered into a million pieces and I don’t know if I’ll have the strength to piece it back together.
That was what she could have said. Instead, she said, ‘Now’s as good a time as any. We’re back in London, back among our friends, and I will hopefully soon be able to arrange some art lessons.’Then I can bury myself away and try to heal. ‘I might even go to France and study art there.’
‘France? But Margaret, I don’t want us to part.’
‘Not yet. But you will.’
He shook his head. ‘No, never.’
‘What?’ she asked quietly, not sure she had heard correctly.
‘I don’t want us to part, ever.’
‘Well, you say that now.’
He took a pace towards her. ‘Margaret, I’m doing this all wrong. When I entered this room, instead of saying I’ve come to retrieve my wife, I should have said that I want you to be my wife.’
It appeared that he had gone mad, or had imbibed far too much at his friend’s wedding.
‘I am your wife. We had a wedding, remember?’The one where we made vows that neither of us had any intention of keeping.
‘I mean Iwantyou to be my wife,’ he repeated. ‘Iwantto marry you. Iwantus to be together till death us do part.’
Margaret’s body grew rigid. Was this a trick? Was it something else he did with his lovers? If they started to stray before he was the one to move on, did he reel them back in?
As much as she would like to believe his words, this was probably all part of a well-practised approach and she was not the only woman to have been on the receiving end of his sweet words, just as she was not the only woman he had made behavelike a cat on heat, as Baroness Winterborne had so crudely put it.
‘I have Baroness Winterborne to thank for making me see that,’ he added, causing Margaret to flinch inwardly at hearing him once again mention his ex-lover’s name.
‘It looks like we both have Baroness Winterborne to thank for making us see how things really are.’
To her chagrin, he nodded. ‘Yes. She made me see that I am not the same man who left London only a few short months ago. I’m no longer the man who chased after empty pleasures in a desperate attempt to fill the void. I now know what it is like to love, what it is like to make love to the woman I adore.’
He took another step towards her. ‘I don’t know exactly what Baroness Winterborne said to you, but I can guarantee she never claimed I had ever been in love before.’
She continued to stare at him, not sure if this was really happening, but trying desperately to hold on to what Baroness Winterborne had said, trying to remind herself that she was nothing special, that she meant nothing to Jacob.
‘But I am now. I love you, Margaret.’ He took another step towards her.
‘I love you,’ he repeated. ‘The way you make me feel is unlike anything I’ve felt before.’ He shook his head as if hardly able to believe his words and gave a small laugh. ‘Surprisingly, it was Henry and Gwendolen who pointed out how besotted I am with you.’
Margaret’s heart thudded in her chest and her confusion intensified. This could not be true, but Jacob was not a cruel man, and only someone completely callous would say such a hurtful lie. Was it true? It must be true. He loved her.
