He was spared from formulating a reply, as servants rushed forward with platters of food, diverting her attention. Yet, as he sat there, he wished he could be everything Jane deserved.
Chapter 24
Having been the daughter of a duke’s mistress, Society and servants alike surely expected that one such as she would have learned her mother’s tricks and inherited her wanton ways.
Yet, with nothing more than Mrs. Wollstonecraft’s book for company on her wedding night, Jane reflected with a droll amusement on the fact that she: one, didn’t have an inkling as to what truly transpired between a man and woman on one’s wedding night and two, that it didn’t really matter, for hers would never truly be a wedding night.
With a sigh, she pulled her knees up and flipped open her copy of A Vindication of the Rights of Woman to the folded and marked page. She instantly located the familiar portion of text and mouthed the long ago memorized words.
“…Whilst they are absolutely dependent on their husbands wives will be cunning, mean, and selfish, and the men who can be gratified by the fawning fondness of spaniel-like affection, have not much delicacy, for love is not to be bought, in any sense of the word, its silken wings are instantly shriveled up when anything beside a return in kind is sought.
She sat back in her seat and leaned against the wall. Those words took on an altogether new meaning. A love that was not bought, for if it was, the sentiment would shrivel and die. Her mother had been bought. And now so had she. How had she failed to see that? How, until Gabriel had kissed her in his brother’s parlor, did she not realize that she’d sacrificed her future to secure her future? Her mother had shiny baubles and satin skirts. Jane would have her finishing school. Neither knew love, and she never would, by her husband’s horror at her admission.
A knock sounded at the door and she glanced up. Her heart climbed, and then Chloe entered the room, and Jane’s heart slipped all the way down to her toes. “Chloe,” she said softly as she took in the usually cheerful woman’s drawn features. She squinted into the dark at the ormolu clock atop the fireplace mantel. “It is late. Is everything all right?” She jumped to her feet. “Is it your head?”
Chloe pushed the door closed and waved. “No, it is not another of my megrims.” She walked with a brisk clip over to Jane and then stopped before her. “It is Gabriel.”
She looked about, her heart thundering hard once again.
“He is not here,” the young woman said, interpreting Jane’s question.
Sleep had eluded her, and since they’d returned from the lavish wedding breakfast thrown by Lord Alex and his wife, Gabriel had disappeared. Unknowing how else to respond, Jane merely uttered, “Oh.” Of course he was not here. The office had been empty and quiet from the moment she’d retired for the evening.
Chloe gave her head a firm shake and pursed her lips. “You misunderstand me, Jane. He is not here. He is,” she slashed the air with an angry hand. “He is gone out to his clubs or…wherever else it is gentlemen go,” she said furiously.
Jane drew back to prevent from being hit by one of those wildly gesticulating hands. The young woman’s words registered and pain knifed through her heart. It should not matter. Gabriel had already been abundantly clear that theirs was to be a marriage in name only. Yet foolishly she’d believed, nay hoped, there would be more…that there would be a real marriage and a wedding night and—
With a growl, Chloe planted her arms akimbo. “You are not to look like that.”
She cocked her head.
“Dejected,” Chloe supplied. “You should be livid. Why, it is bad enough he’s allowed me to remain here so that you can’t…be alone as husband and wife.” Most young ladies would have been blushing red after having uttered those words.
A strangled laugh bubbled up and lodged in her throat. Oh, God love Chloe. She no longer knew whether to laugh or cry.
Chloe made a sound of sympathy and then patted Jane’s shoulder. “Don’t cry, please don’t cry.”
Jane smiled. “I was laughing.”