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Jack looked at the black velvet box in his hands and when he met her eyes again that look was gone, his expression unreadable.
Her hand went to her throat. Had she imagined it? Wishful thinking because she’d begun to believe change was possible in this relationship?
‘I thought you might like to wear this.’ His voice was diffident, as if he expected rejection. ‘I thought it would suit your dress.’
Bess knew what it was as her fingers closed around the familiar case. She’d left it and the other jewellery he’d given her in Paris. Swallowing, she lifted the lid.
There it was, the gorgeous piece he’d given her on their engagement. A triple strand of lustrous pearls formed a choker necklace and at its centre, glowing like sunlight, was a huge, square cut piece of amber.
She’d loved it on sight, especially when he said he’d chosen it because it matched her eyes and the brightness of her smile. But in those final days in Paris it had taken on a different significance. For captured in the amber was a tiny winged insect, only noticeable under close scrutiny. Once Bess had realised the true nature of their marriage she looked at that beloved piece and saw it as a symbol of her gilded cage. She’d felt like some hapless creature trapped in a bright world that would surely destroy her.
‘Elisabeth? Bess?’
His hand touched hers but didn’t linger. Since that devastating kiss at the manor house Jack had scrupulously avoided touching her. Now she found herself longing for more.
‘You called me Bess.’
Jack frowned. ‘Is something wrong? You look pale. Should I call the doctor?’
She shook her head. ‘No, I’m okay.’ She met his gaze. ‘You called me Bess, why?’
His frown deepened. ‘Why not? Others do.’
That was the point. Others did but not him. Except once or twice when they’d made love and now when, she realised, he’d been worried.
‘But not you. You always use my full name. Why? Because it sounds more upper-class than Bess?’ After all, he’d married her for her society connections.
Just as she told herself he wouldn’t answer, Jack spoke.
‘It’s nothing to do with class. Elisabeth suits you better. It’s more complex, more interesting, not the name of someone to be taken for granted.’ He paused. ‘More special.’ A dull flush coloured his cheekbones. ‘But if you don’t like me using it, I’ll call you Bess from now on.’
Complex. Interesting. Special. The words brought wonder and delight.
Bess read his discomfort, as if he’d revealed some shameful secret. Why? Because from the beginning he’d regarded her more highly than she’d thought?
It was a tempting idea, especially since she’d learned Jack had trained himself to keep his feelings in.
‘No, don’t.’ She felt suddenly out of breath and stumbled a little over the words. ‘Elisabeth is fine.’ More than fine. ‘I like that you see me as special and complex.’
He gave a gruff laugh. ‘You’re definitely that, and more. Much more.’ The kindling look he gave her made her abruptly aware of the huge, high bed on the other side of the room.
Quickly she spoke. ‘I need to finish getting ready.’ She stared at the necklace. It was beautiful, an exquisite piece of craftsmanship but also something Jack had chosen if not with love, then with admiration and consideration.
Looking at it, she experienced none of the negativity she’d felt in Paris. Jack wasn’t trapping her in his world. She was free to choose. They’d both made mistakes. It was time to move on from those and focus on the future.
Her smile felt shaky as she leaned towards him. ‘Thanks for thinking of it. It will look terrific with the dress. Would you mind fastening it?’
It was as well the wedding was in a packed cathedral and the reception in the palace’s grand public rooms. There were guests everywhere, plus Jack owed it to Michael and Freya to behave with decorum and not cause a scandal.
He and Elisabeth had already created enough stir, arriving together. Though to his joy, she’d been adamant that she wanted to attend with him.
Excitement had spiked at that. Hope that she was softening. She hadn’t mentioned divorce lately.
All the more reason to be patient, even if it killed him. That didn’t stop him dwelling on the idea of taking her somewhere private. A palace this size must have hundreds of beds. Even a secluded sofa would do for what he had in mind. Or a large desk.
‘What an excellent idea,’ a female voice said, shocking him into awareness of his surroundings.
It wasn’t Elisabeth reading his mind and agreeing, more’s the pity. It was the Countess Von Something-or-Other, bedecked in sapphires and smiling at Elisabeth.
