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However, the man she was with was definitely not a gentleman. In the park the day before, Simon had not had the time to really consider the man sitting beside his wife. Now, with a closer look, Simon could see that the man was rougher than he had originally imagined. Close to fifty years old, he looked to be the kind of man who Simon might run into in a low-end gambling club, drinking his ounces away. Simon could tell his type just from taking in his slouchy clothes, the sparse stubble on his cheeks and the hard stance of his body. He was certainly a disreputable type, and Simon had no idea why Marion would be associating with such a man. Especially in the way she was at that moment. The two of them were standing too close together, so close that it made Simon’s jealousy flare to life. Seeing another man’s hand on his wife, especially such a grubby, ungentlemanly hand, was almost too much to bear.
Could this rogue of a man really be her lover, or a former love interest?Simon wondered in amazement.Is this really who Marion is? Do I know her at all?
Simon immediately chided himself for giving in to his own insecurity, his own fear of the unknown that he had been determined to conquer the moment he had left his library that morning. Whilst he didn’t know why Marion was meeting this man, why she was socialising with such a disreputable looking gentleman, he had to comfort himself with the truths about Marion that he did know. He knew she was honest, kind and a model of respectability. A few days of odd behaviour did not change that. Whilst he was afraid about what all these secrets meant, did he really believe that she was the type of woman who would betray her wedding vows?
“No,” Simon whispered, confirming his own heart’s whisper to himself. “That’s not who Marion is. I know Marion. I love her.”
The sight of them together and the swirling agony of his thoughts made him want to rush into the situation, to announce himself and insert himself into their conversation, as any husband would feel it was suitable to do. But he held back, trying to observe.
Now he was sitting closer, he did not think that Marion was responding to the man’s touch with pleasure or joy. In fact, from the tightness in her posture and the way she was holding her head at an odd angle, as if she didn’t want to be too near to the man, Simon could infer that Marion was even uncomfortable. Whoever this man might have been to Marion before, whatever acquaintance they had now, Simon felt fairly certain that Marion did not love this man. Something wasn’t quite right. His perception of the situation was all in flux.
If Marion isn’t meeting someone she likes or loves, why is she doing it with all the secrecy of a woman meeting a lover?
Simon wished he could see her face! One look into Marion’s dark eyes would tell him exactly what he needed to know. He would be able to see the truth on her face when she turned and walked into Eleanor’s house. Simon expected it to happen at any moment, expected his wife to withdraw from the man and turn towards their friends’ house and keep her appointment., Simon felt a guilty lurch of disappointment in himself for not trusting Marion’s word earlier in the day, but was perplexed when Marion did not turn toward the house..
Instead, before his very eyes, he saw Marion turn and follow the man across the road, towards the other side of the busy square. There, Simon could see, with a jolt of his heart that sent him lurching out of his own carriage, an unknown carriage.
“Wait here!” Simon said, jumping from the carriage and running quickly down the pavement to try and intersect the couple. Simon had reached his limit. His wife could have all the freedom she desired within propriety, but somehow Simon knew that Marion was not the kind of woman who would climb into a carriage with another man in public. It was against every societal rule of decency, and the only reason the two of them had entered into a marriage in the first place had been to assuage the expectations of the society around them.
What is she thinking?Simon raged.What if someone should see?
Then an answering, more logical thought followed, chilling him to the bone.Marion knows her duty, Marion is more than honourable. Why is Marion doing something that goes against everything she believes in?
Some dark, twisting feeling in his stomach told him that perhaps all was not as it seemed. Then suddenly he heard his name called behind him.
“Simon!”
He turned to see Eleanor rushing out of the house to the gate in front of her property, a confused and harried expression on her face.
“Simon, I saw Marion from the upstairs bedroom!” Eleanor said breathlessly. “Who is she with?”
“I don’t know.” Simon didn’t have the energy to lie to Eleanor about his lack of knowledge about his wife’s comings and goings—she would likely see right through it anyway. He was too busy keeping an eye on the coach on the far side of the square, glancing through the gaps between trundling carriages and rushing pedestrians to spy Marion as she followed the man to the carriage. Where was she going? Was it safe?
Don’t get in!Simon wanted to shout, but she stepped inside. Simon cursed under his breath, preparing to rush after them and demand why this man thought it was reasonable to put a married woman in such a questionable situation, but Eleanor reached out and caught his sleeve, her eyes frantic.
“I am worried, Simon,” she said, her eyes flicking over the square as she hunted for her friend. “I saw Marion’s face as she went with him. I - I think something is terribly wrong!”
So did Simon. He was suddenly very aware of the potential danger, of all the painful possibilities. It crashed over him with such intensity that it was a physical pain in his chest—for a moment he had to reach up and it to relieve the ache. The night after he and Marion had first made love, he had told himself that loving her with his whole heart would not be worth it, that it would only lead to pain. Now he knew that the real pain would be in losing her without her ever knowing she was loved so truly. Secrets had kept them apart. Now was the time for action.
“Do not worry.” Simon grasped Eleanor’s hand and squeezed it comfortingly. “I will make sure all is well.”
“Good,” Eleanor nodded, her eyes filling with panicky tears. “Shall I call Nathan?”
“Yes,” Simon nodded. “Tell him to come home and wait for my word.”
“Of course. Be safe.” Eleanor turned to run back into the house. “And both of you must come back to us safely! I demand it!”
“Yes.” Simon was eager to get back to his carriage, keeping one eye on the carriage his wife was obviously inside. Thankfully, it had not moved yet.
“I mean it, Simon.” Eleanor’s hard tone caught his attention and Simon looked back at her. Eleanor’s face was sharp with pain. “She’s my sister, she’s my family. Bring her back safely.”
Simon nodded, taking the words to heart but changing them in his mind.She’s my wife, she’s my family. I have to bring her back safely.
He rushed back to his own carriage, dodging pedestrians and leaping into the barouche just as the carriage holding his wife jerked forward to join the moving traffic around the square.
“Go!” Simon shouted to his driver.
“Where to, My Lord?” the driver called, spurring the horses forward.
