In the Arms of an Earl (31 page)

He brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. “I know you are unhappy living here. I hope to remedy that.”

Pouting would do her no good. He would only pity her, and she did not want his pity. “Everything is fine. I am just a little out of sorts.”

“Very well,” he acquiesced, although he didn’t appear to believe her. “You might enjoy the opera. I had hoped to attend many performances with you while we were in London.”

She gave him a wavering smile. “I would like that.”

“This has not been easy for either of us, my love. I knew the demands of my position would be many, but I’d hoped to at least have had a honeymoon.” He gave her a wry grin. “You have not complained once. I leave you alone all day with Alice and Susanna, when all I want is to be with you.”

He bent his head and kissed her. She clung to him fervently but recalled Alice’s warnings about appearing desperate. Just as quickly as she’d embraced him, she broke away. Disappointment flashed in his eyes, but he settled against the side of the coach, drawing her to his side.

“Perhaps after the opera, we may enjoy another evening together.”

A rush of heat suffused her entire being. She clasped her hand over his. “Perhaps.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Jane had assumed she’d sit beside her husband, but her plans were ruined the moment they arrived at the theatre. First, some confusion occurred when a friend congratulated Frederick on his beautiful new bride and kissed Susanna’s hand before anyone could explain. Frederick had laughed it off, and Susanna quickly introduced Jane, but the feeling she did not belong returned. Even though the Blakeney jewels adorned her hair, bosom, and wrists, Jane was a pale shadow beside Susanna.

As they walked upstairs, Jane somehow ended up beside Jeremy, while Frederick and Susanna went on ahead. He’d turned once to spot her and frowned when he was unable to wait for her because of the pressing crowd. They reached their box, and he’d brushed a kiss on her forehead but seemed otherwise preoccupied.

While the comedy unfolded on the stage, Jane could only concentrate on the drama in her own life. Surely, everyone in the theatre was staring at box number two. Laughing at the ignorant country girl who’d dared believe in true love. Who’d dared to believe in the sanctity of marriage, but was now attending the opera with her husband and his mistress, with the man her husband believed to be her own lover, on her other side.

The strains of the violins whispered past her deaf ears. The curtain on the side of the box blocked her view, so she dropped her gaze to the playbill in her hands. Her eyes widened as she read the descriptions of the characters: Count Almaviva, the skirt-chasing husband. The Countess, his long-suffering wife. Figaro, the servant the count hoped to thwart.

She blinked to clear her vision and stared at the names again. The soprano was named Susanna, a girl whom the count was trying to force, bribe, and otherwise cajole into his bed.

Had Susanna chosen this particular opera through mere coincidence? Frederick didn’t seem disturbed by the characters’ obvious resemblance to their lives. His foot tapped along with the exuberant music; his fingers drummed on his knee.

She sank back into her chair, but her spirits refused to soar with the magical notes. The soprano could not enthrall. The tenor’s voice was heavy as lead. Frederick murmured something to Susanna, and she laughed. A private joke between a man and his mistress. She wondered if he had ever shared a piano bench with Susanna in the middle of the night.

The hushed voices of her companions had ceased. She turned when Frederick said her name. “It’s intermission now. Would you like some refreshment?”

“No, thank you.” How could she even think about eating or drinking ever again? The world had ended. She clenched her hands but could not smile. “Perhaps I’ll just walk a bit.” She headed toward the door, and Frederick touched her hand.

“I’ll go with you.”

“Oh no, please.” She forced a laugh but his slight frown indicated he clearly saw through her pretense. “Stay here. I shall return shortly.”

Jeremy stood and bowed to Susanna. “Do you care to take a stroll before the next act, Miss Olivier?”

Her glance at Frederick had been so subtle Jane would have missed it, were she not so focused on the extent of their relationship. Susanna smiled breezily and tapped Jeremy’s arm with her fan. “I think I shall stay here and keep Frederick company.”

Jeremy’s scowl vanished almost as quickly as it appeared. His face a smooth mask, he bowed and swept out of the box. After a moment’s hesitation, Jane followed him.

She didn’t get far. The mezzanine was crowded. She couldn’t see a way downstairs and reluctantly headed back, dreading the second half of the opera where she’d endure another few hours of watching two people in love. She stroked her hand idly over the embroidered silk skirt of her evening gown. Sarah had seen the modiste’s bill and had murmured appreciation over Frederick’s endless good taste and generosity. The embroidery resembled Susanna’s gown, in its butterflies and roses design. The lace could have been the same, but she hadn’t studied it before. Why would he choose her clothes based on Susanna’s tastes?

Unless, of course, the gown was meant for the other woman and had come to her by mistake. She preferred simpler styles with less adornment. Susanna’s personality could carry feathers and furbelows. She nearly gasped aloud at the realization. Even her wardrobe was meant for the other woman, carefully selected to accent Susanna’s coloring and style.

A wave of dizziness caused her to grip the molding on the wall. She had no choice but to give Frederick an ultimatum.

Her heart sank with the futility of her situation. Even if she did object, what could she expect? What if he refused to give up Susanna? Would she have to bite her tongue and stifle her heart for the rest of her life? Or walk away from the only man she’d ever love?

It didn’t bear thinking about because she knew she would never confront him. That was not the way of the
ton
. Of the life she had chosen.

And what had she chosen?

She closed her eyes against an expected onrush of tears, but they didn’t come. She was empty. The few short months of marriage had passed by before she’d noticed, and she was no closer to settling at Dornley Park than she was at flying to the stars. The once vivid dream of sharing her life with Frederick faded as the days passed, leaving her desperately lonely and frightened. Frightened she had tempted fate by daring to believe a man like Frederick could have possibly loved her.

She pressed her hand to her heart to steady its rapid pounding. He and Susanna probably hadn’t noticed her absence. She could stay in the gallery the rest of the night and not be missed.

A soft wailing sound startled her until she realized it was her own heartbroken cry.

Why had he married her? She had questioned it repeatedly before the actual wedding day, not quite believing he would go through with it until the very moment she saw him at the altar. How strange to walk down the aisle toward Frederick.
There must be a mistake
, she’d thought, unable to tear her gaze from his chiseled jaw and smiling lips.
Any moment now, he’ll say it was all a grand joke and walk away
. But he’d taken her hand and squeezed it, and she’d never let go.

She was no countess. She was barely suitable for a gentrified colonel, for that matter. If she’d ever doubted her suitability for a man such as Frederick, London had certainly assured her she was a poor match.

He had another choice. A better choice. Susanna’s winning smile haunted her mind.
She
would have made a perfect countess.

But Susanna had spurned his suit. She’d broken his heart because he’d returned maimed from the war. Seeing them together now, however, Jane could hardly believe Susanna was the same person of whom Lucinda had spoken. Or, perhaps his newly gained title had replaced the missing hand she’d once found so repulsive.

The audience was returning to their seats. Jane reached for the partially opened door when Susanna spoke as clearly as if she were standing beside her.

“You made the mistake of bringing her here, Freddie. You have only yourself to blame.”

Jane’s spine tingled. Her hand dropped to her side. Heart thumping, she caught her breath as she waited for Frederick’s reply.

“What else could I have done? Henry left a colossal mess, and there is poor Alice to consider. I thought…oh, what does it matter anymore? I know I’ve done wrong by her, but you must know, dear Susanna, you must know”—he gulped audibly—“if I’ve loved too much, I will accept punishment.”

“What do you propose to do, then? You’re dying of misery. It is too much to bear.”

Jane clutched her fist to her mouth. She would not cry out though her soul was rent in two. She should be grateful she could finally hear it spoken aloud, rather than relying on gossip and conjecture. Somehow, she didn’t feel very grateful.

“I hardly knew her when we married. I hardly know her now. Even after all this time.” He was silent a moment. “I fear…I fear she hates me.”

Susanna’s skirts rustled gently, and Jane imagined her clutching Frederick’s arm. Holding his hand. Stroking his brow in calculated comfort.

“She doesn’t hate you. You could hardly expect her to be happy here, in this…this situation. I am also to blame.”

He murmured something soothing. Jane fought the urge to flee. Perhaps if she feigned a headache Frederick would order his coach to take her home. He probably wouldn’t even miss her, not as long as Susanna was there.

Jeremy called to her from the end of the gallery. Not wanting to explain why she was standing outside, she pushed open the door and entered the box. She had to give Susanna credit. She didn’t even look surprised when Jane entered.

Frederick turned away, and Jane pretended not to notice his red eyes. She took her seat.

Susanna gave her a wavering smile. “Was it very crowded?”

“Yes. I stayed in the gallery.” Frederick glanced at her, and her heart melted at the lingering traces of his misery still etched on his face. “I walked to the end and…and said hello to someone I know.”

“Oh, who?” Susanna asked pleasantly, but Jane was saved from responding by Jeremy’s hasty entrance. He handed both ladies a packet of sweets and tapped Frederick’s shoulder.

“Falconbury, do me a favor and trade seats. Your seat is partially hidden by that curtain, and I do wish to take a nap through this next part.” He winked at Susanna, who laughed. Jane gave a little smile, turning her gaze toward the stage when Frederick sat beside her. Odd how Susanna didn’t mind Frederick moving his chair, especially after her grand declaration.

The music from the second act filled the theatre, the notes merging with her thoughts. Suddenly, a decision struck her, and she nearly swooned with the force of it.

She would leave London. She had no other choice. Frederick and Susanna could carry on their love affair, and Jeremy would find somebody else. Her hands closed into tight fists until her muscles ached.

Frederick leaned close, his breath fluttering on her bare shoulder. “Are you enjoying the music, my darling?” She nodded, unable to look at him. She could maintain her composure so long as she didn’t look at him. He covered her hand with his, working her fingers open until he could hold it. “Jane, is anything wrong? You’ve hardly said two words the entire evening.”

She shook her head, wanting to speak, but was afraid all she’d do was sob aloud. He slipped his arm around her, hugging her close as much as their stiff chairs permitted.

“What is it?”

“I…I received word from Amelia this afternoon,” she lied, thinking quickly. “She’s at the end of her confinement and desires me to stay with her.”

She broke away from his embrace and patted her face with her gloved hands, absorbing the tears streaming unchecked down her cheek despite her best efforts.

“Why did you not tell me? Poor darling, to have kept this to yourself.” His arm squeezed around her waist. “We’ll leave in the morning.”

“No.” The word was sharp. His eyebrows knitted in confusion. She swallowed. “I’d rather go by myself,” she said, in a softer tone. “You are quite busy, and I do not wish to interfere…”

“Interfere with what, my love? My cousin Felix can take my proxy at Parliament.”

The countess on the stage sang of her unrequited love for her husband. Her voice rang out in misery. Jane blinked. “I had hoped to stay longer than a few days.”

He shrugged. “A fortnight, then.”

“She needs me for longer. At least…at least a month.” She chewed her lip to keep it from trembling. “I will go alone. You are…too involved here.”

The buttons on his glove snagged her hair as he stroked her neck. “I’ll escort you. You must go to her.” He kissed her cheek. “Stay as long as you wish…as long as she needs you. But, Jane,” he released her to raise her face, “I need you, too.”

How did he manage to seem so thoughtful and loving after his terrible admission to Susanna? He was so gallant in his pretense of the faithful husband. “I won’t be long,” she said at last, wishing she possessed Susanna’s easy personality. “One month.”

“And then we’ll be one month closer to the country, to settle there, once and for all.”

His mouth brushed over hers. A hundred butterflies fluttered in her stomach at the touch of him. She never failed to react thus; he was her very sustenance. How she’d miss him.

She hadn’t meant to but responded with more passion than she’d wanted. The kiss deepened, and his hand gripped hers. The rising heat of his body melted through their gloves to sear her skin.