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Bullocks. Jude apparently had all the discretion of an elephant. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Marissa put her hands on her hips and glared. “Really? Then why is Jude so delicately broaching the specter of Parliament and divorce? Has my new husband already tired of me?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
She poked him in the shoulder. “You tell me what’s happening, Aidan. Jude obviously knows and I guarantee I’ll get it out of him. Soon. But you’ll both be on my very bad side. For a long while. Not that it matters to you, I suppose.”
His shoulders were nearly vibrating with tightness, but he took a deep breath and felt them slump. “Of course it matters to me.”
She was trying to look stern, but a shiver worked its way through her body and exploded through her in a brief shudder. Aidan sighed. “Get in the carriage.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“Get in the carriage and I’ll tell you.”
Marissa didn’t bother hiding her triumphant smile. “Wonderful,” she said as she stepped up into the carriage.
Aidan tucked a warming pan beneath her boots, then unfolded a blanket and placed it carefully over her. He was abruptly reminded of Marissa as a small girl. The bright happiness in her eyes when he would agree to read her a bedtime story. The utter trust in her face as she’d smiled up at him. My God, she’d been so young. And so had he. Now everything was different except his love for her.
“I can’t tell you everything, Marissa.”
“Are you in love with a married woman?”
“I am.”
She scowled. “It’s not that awful Mrs. Renier, is it?”
“Excuse me?” Heat fell over him in a wave of mortification.
“Everyone knows you’re lovers. She crowed about your deep affection for her all last Season.”
“I . . . I . . .” His little sister knew about Mrs. Renier? What else did she know? “No,” he finally breathed. “It’s not Mrs. Renier.”
“Thank God! Who is she, then?”
“I can’t tell you. It wouldn’t be appropriate.”
For a moment—a long moment—it seemed she would argue. Her jaw pushed out. Her eyes narrowed. But after a few heartbeats, Marissa’s face softened again. She reached out a hand and touched her fingertips to his jaw. “Whoever she is . . . are you certain you love her?”
That was a much easier question to answer. “I am,” he said. “I haven’t a doubt in my mind.”
Marissa’s eyes filled with tears.
Aidan pressed his hand over hers and felt the warmth of her fingers against his face.
“She’s another man’s wife. How can you be sure of her?”
“Because I know her, Marissa.” He took a deep breath. “As I used to know myself.”
“Oh, Aidan,” she sighed. “Then you must do whatever you can, however hopeless.”
“I will,” he promised. “Now get back to bed.”
The warmth of Marissa’s hug stayed with him after she’d gone, and Aidan set off for London feeling more relaxed than he had in years.
Chapter 23
Kate had forgotten the filthy state of the Thames. The water of the Humber was smooth and clean, the Hull flowed clear and sparkling. The Thames seemed not to be water at all, but a murky brew of sewage and dead fish parts.
