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"I think his intentions were sincere, for whatever that's worth."
"Hm." Her brother's eyes swept down Jude's body. "There was a scuffle, I take it?"
Jude suppressed the urge to check his buttons. "Er . .. yes, but nothing too violent."
"Well, young lady," Edward continued, clearly-dismissing Jude's mussed clothing as meaningless, "I suggest you retire to your chambers and think about what you've done."
Her cheeks darkened a bit, and Jude could imagine how pink they must be. "I am a grown woman. You can't order me about."
Edward's frown twisted into outrage, but Marissa waved a hand before he could shout. "Oh, bother. I'll go. I feel quite spent as it is."
That cheeky minx. She ambled off toward the house while Edward and Jude both stared after her.
"That girl will be the death of me," Edward muttered, but Jude was quite sure he was going to be the one praying for mercy before the month was out.
Chapter 12
She'd managed to avoid Jude for a whole day without ever admitting to herself that she was hiding. She wasn't. She just felt. . . awkward.
Not quite anxious, and yet her heart would start pounding during quiet moments, and then she'd suddenly remember. What she'd done. What he'd done.
Perched tensely on the edge of her bed, Marissa put her lingers to her lips as if she could hold in the emotions that pressed at her throat. Excitement and fear and joy and regret. .. an intense combination. In that moment, she felt almost as though she were being chased. And as if she wanted to be caught.
But that made no sense, so she had no idea what to say to him or even how to look at him. It was simpler just to stay busy with Beth or her mother, or any of the other women doing singularly feminine things throughout the day.
But then that strange anxious yearning would rise. That niggling feeling that sonic knowledge lurked just past her notice. And then she would remember again.
Jude.
She'd known that men could bring intense pleasure. She'd discovered that quite accidentally two years before, though she'd been aware of pleasantness before then. But it was still so surprising that it could be Jude. Jude, whom she'd never so much as looked at.
If it had been some other man, she supposed she'd have simply simpered at him at their next meeting. Offered a blushing smile and a flutter of her lashes as well as a few healed looks. But she'd never so much as flirted with Jude, and how ridiculous she'd feel glancing through her lashes and giggling like a silly miss.
No, she had no idea how to face him now, and yet she had no choice.
A half hour before, she'd finally got her proof. There would be no child, and she had to tell him. It wasn't fair to drag this out longer. Assuming Mr. White did not spread tales, there'd be no need for a hasty marriage. No need for a marriage at all. After a few weeks, her family would quietly put it about that the betrothal had been called off. No one would be surprised. Her family name would remain unsullied, if more associated with melodrama than ever, and everything would return to normal. She might be damaged goods, but a secretly imperfect wife was a far cry from a fiancée already pregnant with another man's child.
So why was she sitting on her bed with her hands clenched in dread? Why wasn't she racing down to tell Jude the good news?
When her door opened, Marissa took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh that sounded suspiciously maudlin.
Her mother didn't notice however. "You wanted to see me, dear?"
"Yes, Mother. I'm now certain there will be no child, so you needn't worry any longer on that score. I understand that there may yet be consequences to my reputation, but if there are not. . . there'll be no reason for this betrothal to move forward."
"Oh, Marissa!" her mother yelped. "Oh, my sweet girl, this is wonderful news! Simply wonderful! I had not even dared to picture your wedding day to that man. His presence is so overpowering, is it not? And he's really not precisely respectable, despite the duke."
"Mm."
"Well, this is stupendous news. We'll wait a decent amount of time before calling off, of course, and there must be a reasonably interesting story, though I suppose we cannot cast Mr. Bertrand in a foul light after the kindness he's done us. Yes, we will have to tread carefully here, but reasonableness is so dreadfully boring!" She paused to take a deep breath, then swooped down to hug Marissa. "Oh, my darling, I'm so happy for you. You must be so relieved! I'll go tell the baron this very moment."
She always called Edward "the baron," unless, of course, calling him "my son!" evoked more drama. "I would prefer to tell Jude first, Mother. It's only decent. Would you wait a bit?"
"Yes, yes, you must tell him first. I'll tell the baron just before we go in to dinner. How's that?"
Nodding, she met her mother's thrilled smile with one of her own, though her heart felt heavy as lead in her chest and the smile only made it worse.
But as her mother breezed from the room, trailing a happy hum in her wake, Marissa forced herself to her feet and blamed her sick feeling on the circumstances. Of course she fell grouchy and out of sorts. 'Twas only expected.
