Page 116 of A Convenient Fiction

“My husband told me of it,” Laura said. “It’s not a pleasant memory for him, I fear.”

Jenny looked at her with an expression of sympathy. “There are not many pleasant memories from that time. Not for any of them. But there is some happiness to be found in the here and now, I trust. There has been for my husband, at least.”

“You said you were on your honeymoon. Were you married very recently?”

“Oh yes. Only a few weeks ago, though we’ve known each other much longer. We were friends first. Companions.” Jenny smiled. “It’s an unconventional marriage, but it seems to work for us.”

“Unconventional?” Laura was intrigued in spite of herself. “How do you mean?”

“We make our decisions together. Rather like co-regents. Though our kingdom is quite small at present. There’s only the two of us, and a townhouse in Half Moon Street. Indeed, when it comes to settling down, we’re still very much at sixes and sevens. I only returned from Egypt last month.”

Laura’s brows flew up. “You’ve traveled to Egypt?”

“And to India. It’s been rather an adventure.”

For the next hour, Laura listened as Jenny Finchley described her travels. They shared a pot of tea, and a plate of macarons—delicate little French cakes made of almonds and sugar. And they talked. They even laughed.

Jenny was a surprisingly likeable lady. There was no artifice about her. No fashionable airs or pretensions. “Lady Helena is hosting a family Christmas at the Abbey this year,” she said when they’d finished their tea. “A good month of festivities, all the way through Twelfth Night. Perhaps you and your husband might consider traveling to Devon for the occasion? If you’re not committed elsewhere, that is.”

A pang of sadness took Laura unaware. She hadn’t even begun to think of Christmas. It was less than four months away. Would she and Alex still be together? Or would he be gone from her life forever? So much depended on what happened with the perfumery. On whether she could entice him to stay despite her lack of wealth and property.

Her mouth went dry, never mind the half pot of tea she’d just drunk. “My aunt and brother will expect me back in Surrey for the holiday. I’ve never been away from them at Christmas.”

“Oh, but you must bring them too, of course. I can speak for Lady Helena. She’d love to have you. It’s her fondest wish to reunite her husband with his friends. She would count it a blessing.”

Blessing or no, Laura didn’t think Alex would be much inclined to return to Devon. “I shall ask my husband,” she said. “But…he may need time.”

Jenny nodded. “Perfectly understandable. I shouldn’t like to be reunited with anyone from my childhood. A ghastly proposition. But family is family, you know. And being orphans, the four of them were family. We must do what we can to bring them back to each other.”

Laura didn’t promise anything. How could she? Today’s events had made her more uncertain about her future with Alex than ever.

After bidding Jenny Finchley goodbye, she kicked off her slippers and lay down on the hotel bed with all her clothes on. Her skirts spilled all around her in a heap of expensive French fabric.

She stared up at the ceiling.

There was nothing magical about being in love with someone. It didn’t cure every ill or solve every problem. It was simply a feeling. An infinitely precious feeling. Deeper than friendship. More meaningful than mere attraction. But it wasn’t a panacea.

Real relationships were built on more than love. They were constructed with hard work, dedication, and patience. With honesty and mutual respect.

She was ready to do the work. Whatever Alex was facing—whatever demons from his past he must confront—she wanted to be with him. To love and support him through it. But he had to want it, too. He had to let her in. Into his thoughts, and emotions.

Into his heart.

If he didn’t love her in return, how could they ever overcome anything?

It was another half hour before he came back from his meeting with Mr. Finchley. Laura’s heart lurched at the sound of the door. Alex didn’t call out to her. Didn’t utter a single word. But she heard his footsteps as he crossed the small sitting room and entered the bedroom. Heard him remove his boots and his coat.

He climbed up on the bed and lay down beside her, turning his face into the hollow of her neck.

She rested her cheek against his head. “Are you all right?”

“I am now.”

It was a long while before he spoke again. Laura began to wonder if she should press him. But he seemed so vulnerable. So tired. A warrior after a fiercely fought battle.

She smoothed his hair from his brow.

“Finchley has invited us to dine with him later this evening,” he said at last. “There’s a bistro opposite the café. It looked promising enough, but…we don’t have to accept. Not if you don’t wish to.”