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Chapter Eighteen

“Imean it, Daph,” Jenny cried, “I cannot find a single one.”

During the move from Hanover House, her rock collection had gotten misplaced mysteriously. She had been duchess for more than a week and no one she had questioned had seen them anywhere, which was a great inconvenience for she found herself growing restless for lack of desirable occupation. Especially since her husband had taken to avoiding her since their passionate encounter in her bedchamber in the night after their wedding.

“Perhaps they have been removed from the chest,” Daphne supplied.

“If that were so, then I would have found the chest.”

“Did you ask Sarah?”

Jenny gritted her teeth at the silly question. “She was the first person I asked. She packed most of my things but she is unable to account for the rocks. And none of the servants has seen them.”

Daphne sipped her tea, her eyes narrowing as she thought. “Do you suppose they were stolen?”

“I don’t know.” She sighed. “Who would steal rocks?”

“I wonder.” Daphne set her teacup down on the table before her. “You have been complaining about your missing rocks since I arrived. Is this why you wrote summoning me last night?”

Daphne had called upon her at once. After a particularly tense dinner with her husband the night before, Jenny had written to Daphne, asking her to come.

She hardly saw him and suspected he deliberately kept busy to avoid her. Another thing also puzzled her: Some days ago, she had walked in on him speaking with Bentley and he suddenly went quiet upon her entrance. Her questions had been met with a brusque reply before he left the room altogether.

“Forgive me for getting carried away. Surely you understand how important my collection is tomeand not just my studies.”

“I understand, Jenny. I can also see that you look like you have not been getting much sleep.” Daphne regarded her thoughtfully.

“That’s why I called you. It’s about my husband. I can’t sleep because of him.”

A gasp slipped out of Daphne and her eyes began to glint with curiosity. “Are your nocturnal activities preventing you from sleeping?”

Jenny laughed but without any mirth. “I wish that were the case.” If making love with Nicholas were the cause of her sleeplessness, she doubted it would be noticeable because her body would be sated. Her heart would be sated.

“Then what is it, Jenny?”

“He is in my thoughts. All the time.”

When Daphne spoke, she did so slowly as though she was trying to comprehend something complex. “You live in the same house with him, yet he consumes your every thought. Why are you not doing something about it?”

“Because this marriage is not a real one and Nicholas is seeing his absurd plan through,” she muttered. Sometimes, she believed Nicholas no longer cared about this marriage. He had gained what he had set out to gain—her father’s influence in the House of Lords—and wanted nothing more from her.

“You can make it real, Jenny.” Daphne rose from her chair and came to sit down beside her. “There is a very simple solution to this and I don’t know why you refuse to allow yourself to see it.”

Was the solution truly apparent and Jenny was not permitting herself to see it? Perhaps. And perhaps her friend was wrong and there was no solution at all.When did you become a pessimist, Jenny?Her mind’s voice asked.

She leaned toward her friend, intent on hearing what she had to say. “Tell me.”

“Men are simple creatures, you see," she declared, "and they have a very simple language, too. If you can explore it, learn it, and use it to your advantage, your marriage might just become what you dreamed it would be.”

Jenny understood what Daphne meant by not allowing herself to see the solution. This notion had never occurred to her.

“Give in to your sense of adventure, and most importantly, be bold and daring. Take a step toward him, Jenny, and you will find him covering the rest of the distance to come to you."

Jenny was quiet for several beats. “Are you certain you are not secretly married, Daphne?” She chuckled.

Her friend’s smile faltered. “I wish.” Then she reached for a biscuit from the tray. “You have to admit, though, my advice is a good one.”

“It is and you are right. I did not allow myself to see it. I thought that if he didn’t want me, then perhaps it is best to leave him be.”

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