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Chapter Thirteen

Three Weeks Later

Jerome drove his curricle behind his sister’s chaise, escorting her and his niece to The Castle for the wedding. My wedding! In a couple of hours, he would come face to face with Ava again and in less than twenty-four hours, they would be married. A sensation very like panic was skirling around his veins, warring with the ache of longing in his heart to see her again and assure himself that she was well.

What was she thinking and feeling, and would he be able to tell? A younger Ava had been transparent, wearing her heart on her sleeve, but grown-up Ava had learned to dissemble, hiding behind a mask of gaiety and frivolity. That much he knew from observing her closely over the last two years. But what lay behind that mask, he had been unable to penetrate.

Arrived at The Castle at last, he helped Letty and Sophie from the carriage and turned toward the steps. Robert and Sarah stood waiting at the top, but there was no sign of Ava. His heart jolted at this absence, and he wondered what it meant.

Rob was a little stiff and hauled him off to the library immediately.

He shut the door and, turning to Jerome, said abruptly, “Tell me about Charis Dunsenay.”

Jerome’s heart dropped as he scanned Robert’s face and saw the tightness round his eyes. Oh, God! His heart squeezed. “Who told you?”

“Mama.” Robert paced to the fireplace and turned. “Tell me the truth. What happened?”

Jerome took a breath. Robert was his friend, and he was marrying his sister. He deserved the truth. So, he told him.

Robert listened in silence, and at the end he said, “Mama’s version is different, but then her informant is Charis’s mother.”

Jerome smiled bitterly. “Does Ava know?”

Robert shook his head. “We haven’t told her.”

“Thank you.” Relief flooded Jerome’s chest.

“Hopefully she need never know.” Robert paused and then said quietly, “I am entrusting my sister to you. Don’t let me down.”

Jerome nodded, “I won’t. I told you—I love her.”

Robert smiled tightly. “And you learned a painful lesson.”

“I did.” Jerome took a breath trying to ease the iron band around his chest. “I’m sorry Rob, I never meant for this to happen.”

“It’s done now. It’s my fervent hope it will all work out for the best.”

“I certainly mean to do everything I can to make it so.”

Robert stepped up to him and offered him a brotherly hug. “Welcome to the family.”

Jerome closed his eyes and hugged his best friend, who had shown him more clemency than he deserved.

Jerome did not, in fact, see Ava until all the guests and family were gathered in the drawing room before dinner. He was standing by the fire talking to Emrys and Annis, who was in the last weeks of her pregnancy, when Ava entered the room. A dip in conversation alerted him, and he looked up from contemplating his boot absently and was transfixed. She was wearing her favorite color, jonquil, and she looked exquisite.

But pale, he noted, and thinner than she ought to be. The last three weeks had taken their toll on her. Why did she look so wan and worn? Was she regretting her actions? Had Robert been harsh to her? Even so, she stood straight backed with her chin up and a defiant expression on her face. He felt a rush of pride in her strength and a feeling of protectiveness, wanting to shield her from the hurt he could see lurking in the back of her eyes. She scanned the room and found him. Her mask almost slipped then. He saw it in the flash of emotion quickly suppressed by a brittle smile, and his heart wrenched.

He walked toward her, conscious that every eye in the room was fixed on them. They had absolutely no privacy for this first meeting after three weeks apart and so much left unsaid when she was whipped away from him at Ravenshaw, with no time to talk or for him to even reassure her that all would be well. He bowed, she curtsied, and he took her hand and kissed it.

“Ava, are you well?”

“As well as you, I expect,” she said, looking up at him, with her clear-blue eyes slightly glassy. She hesitated and then said in a rush, “Did he make you do this?”

He shook his head and spoke roughly. “Of course not. In honor, I could do nothing else.”

“Of course. Honor. It’s all you men care about, isn’t it?” Her sharp tone wasn’t lost on him, and his skin prickled. What is wrong? He hadn’t expected her to be hostile. What happened that night? He recalled with fuzzy warmth her eager kisses, the press of her cold body against his.

“No. Not in this case, if you believe that is my only motive—”