Her One True Love

by Rachel Brimble

  She nodded. “Apology accepted and you are more than welcome.”

  He dipped his head a second time, his gaze unreadable. “Thank you.”

  Their eyes remained locked.

  “Well, then . . .” Thomas’s voice echoed around the room. “Would you like to join us in a glass of wine before dinner, Jane?”

  Jane blinked and dragged her gaze to her loving brother-in-law, her smile so less strained when trained on him rather than Matthew. “That would be lovely, thank you.” She joined Monica on the settee, all too aware of Matthew choosing to sit in the armchair barely two feet from her elbow.

  She kept her concentration on Thomas’s turned back.

  “Jane?”

  Briefly closing her eyes, Jane turned to face Monica. “Yes?”

  Monica smiled, but her eyes glinted with warning. “Before you came to join us, I was about to tell Matthew of your news.”

  “My news?” Jane’s cheeks warmed.

  “Of your leaving.”

  Jane struggled to keep her smile in place. “My leaving is hardly cause to broadcast—”

  “You’re leaving?” Matthew’s clipped question split the room like the crack of a whip.

  Jane flinched and faced him, her spine rigid. “Yes, I’m going to the house in Bath.”

  “For how long?” His jaw tightened and his eyes blazed with a passion that was almost possessive. “And why?”

  She stared. Why should you care? She lifted her chin. “Because that is what I wish to do. I want to escape the village for a while. It’s about time I decided what to do with my life. I attended to Mama for so many years, I feel as if I’ve achieved little else than trying to keep her happy.”

  He took a mouthful of wine. “That’s nonsense.”

  She glanced at Monica beside her and then at Thomas, who stood at the drinks cabinet. They stared at Matthew with mixed expressions of surprise and amused interest.

  Irritation battled for release as Jane turned to Matthew. “Is it? Why? You have your work out of the house, do you not?” She fought to maintain her composure by curling her fingers into the satin fabric of her skirts. “Well, I want mine too. I want to do more. I want to help people, and whether you approve or not, I believe my time would be better spent in the city, than here. There is little I can do to help the villagers as far as farming is concerned, but that doesn’t mean my help won’t be welcomed in Bath. There are women and children there who struggle every day. I want to help them, not stay in a place where I’m beginning to believe the residents will never look at me as anything else other than Noel Danes’s daughter.”

  His gaze lingered over every inch of her face until Jane thought she would buckle under its power and be forced to look away. Thankfully, Thomas came to stand beside her with her wine, providing Jane the perfect excuse to look away, rather than suffer the humiliating loss of eye-to-eye battle with Matthew.

  “Thank you, Thomas.” She took the wineglass, triumphant that its deep, red contents didn’t as much as quiver in their delicate vessel.

  “Dinner is served.” Mrs. Seton curtsied at the drawing room door.

  Jane took a fortifying sip of her drink and rose. Matthew stood at her side and offered his arm. Swallowing hard, Jane slipped her hand through his elbow and together, they followed Monica and Thomas into the hallway.

  Round one to her. Now all she needed to do was deflect his every jab throughout an undoubtedly trying dinner.

  The clock above the Danes’s dining room mantel struck ten, and Matthew took it as a sign to leave. He drained his glass and cleared his throat. “Well, I really need to head home. Monica, thank you for inviting me for such a delicious meal. I will find Mrs. Seton before I leave and give her my compliments.”

  Monica beamed, her smile as strained as the entire dinner had been. “We ladies completely understand if it’s time for port and cigars, you know, Matthew.” She glanced at Jane. “We might not always conform, but Jane and I have our moments of propriety. Maybe you’d like to stay here with Thomas? Jane and I will retire to the drawing room. It would be such a shame to have you leave so early.”

  Matthew stared at Jane’s bowed head, urging her to look at him—something she had barely managed all evening. When it appeared her manners toward him were as vanished as her conversation, he faced Thomas, as his host rose and strode the length of the table toward Matthew, his hand outstretched.

  “What do you say? Shall we grab my wife’s rare agreement to release me? I could take some port.”

  “I’m still here, you know, Thomas,” Monica admonished, but the twinkle in her eyes clearly gave away her deep love for her husband. “I’ll cut my offer short if you continue to give Matthew the impression I keep you like a dog on a leash.”

  Matthew tried and failed to smile when Jane continued to stare resolutely at her plate, despite her sister and brother-in-law’s attempts to lighten the awkwardness permeating the room like an ash cloud.

  He shook his head and looked at Thomas and Monica in turn. “Maybe another time. I have some matters to attend to that I wish to get done this evening. Again, I thank you for such a splendid meal. Will Mrs. Seton be in the kitchen?”

  Thomas clasped his hand, the other at Matthew’s shoulder. “She will, yes. It’s been too long since we’ve seen you. Don’t make your absence at Marksville a habit. Tonight has been good. We’ve enjoyed having you here.”

  As much as Matthew longed to match the enthusiasm in Thomas’s words and actions, all he really wanted was a few moments alone with Jane. Her attitude toward him had bypassed chilly and veered, inexplicably, toward downright frozen. Forcing a tight smile, Matthew shook Thomas’s hand. “Well, I will endeavor to come by more often. I have been inexcusably busy over the last few weeks, and socializing has been far down the agenda, I’m afraid.”

  He glanced along the table at Jane once more.

  She stared at him, her hazel eyes gleaming with irritation. “As has the care of the villagers, it seems.”

  Matthew dropped Thomas’s hand and glared. “I’m sorry?”

  She shook her head, her cheeks turning pink as she looked at her plate. “Ignore me.”

  “To do that is impossible.”

  She snapped her gaze to his and their eyes locked. Her determination to be aloof toward him, to berate him at every turn, had worn his patience thin over the last couple of hours. He cared too much for her to have their friendship less than it had always been before she departed for the city. Why was she going to Bath, for goodness’ sake? Biddestone needed her here. If the villagers didn’t, he did. There was no one as dear, kind, or reliable to him than her. No one. Hadn’t he always sought her advice and company?

  “Jane?” Monica’s voice sliced the silence. She stared at Jane as though looking at a madwoman. “Whatever is the matter with you speaking to Matthew like that?”

  “Nothing’s the matter with me.” Jane glared at her sister, her shoulders high. “Am I not entitled to speak freely in the house where I was raised?”

  “You should not speak to Matthew or any other guest like that. I want you to apologize.”

  Jane huffed out a laugh. “I will do no such thing.”

  The sisters’ gazes locked in battle, their equally porcelain skin tinged red at the cheeks.

  Thomas laughed and slapped a hand to Matthew’s shoulder. “Well, well, my friend, it seems you have somehow set the cat among the pigeons. Why don’t I see you out and let these two fight it out in private?”

  Matthew continued to study Jane. Her dark brown hair was adorned with ribbons and pearls, and her creamy white neck curved down to the soft hump of her breast, above the laced bodice of her dress. His groin twitched as though waking from a long sleep. How much longer could he bear fighting his attraction toward her? He cleared his throat, rare nerves tumbling through him. “Thank you, Thomas, but I must ask that Jane see me out.”

  It was challenge, a gauntlet thrown down in the sphere.

  Her gaze snapped to his,
burning with a fire that made her eyes gleam like a palette of autumnal color beneath the lamplight. “As you wish.” She stood abruptly, her chair teetering behind her. She gripped the chair and held it steady, the orbs of her breasts rising and falling with each harried breath. “Shall we?”

  Undeniable heat simmered between them as she gripped her skirts in one hand and marched toward him. When she was close, he bowed and she swept past him to the door. A real, heartfelt smile tugged at Matthew’s mouth for the first time in months, causing an unexpected burst of energy. He snatched his gaze from the back of her head and nodded first to Thomas and then Monica. “Again, I thank you both. I will no doubt see you again soon.”

  Thomas grinned. “You will. Good night.”

  Monica merely nodded, her bemused gaze fixed on the open door through which Jane had disappeared. Matthew exited the room, his body wired with anticipation of his forthcoming exchange with Jane. Whether she wanted it or not, he was determined that she explain the change in her attitude toward him. Something told him he’d better damn well listen, because he could not, would not, allow her to leave with this insufferable tension between them.

  She stood at Marksville’s closed front door, her spine rigid as she faced the opposite wall. Mrs. Seton shifted uncomfortably beside her, her hands clasped tightly in front of her apron.

  Matthew bit back a groan as he approached them. He’d hoped to speak to Jane alone. “Mrs. Seton, I just wanted to thank you for the most delectable meal. It was a feast I didn’t deserve.”

  “You’re more than welcome, sir.”

  Jane sniffed in clear disapproval. Ignoring her, he dipped his head to Mrs. Seton. “Well, I extend my gratitude to you and no doubt Jeannie too.”

  Mrs. Seton smiled tightly and looked to Jane. “Miss Jane? If there’s nothing else . . .”

  Jane faced her and smiled so genuinely that Matthew suddenly hankered for the same fondness in her eyes and her lips to be directed at him.

  She touched Mrs. Seton’s arm. “Of course. You go and do what you need to do and then I want you to retire for the night. You worked so hard to feed us this evening. I have no idea why Mrs. Ashby, Monica, wanted to make such a fuss of dinner tonight . . . considering the company was nothing out of the ordinary.”

  Mrs. Seton’s eyes widened and Matthew bit back another smile at Jane’s jab at him.

  With a quickly executed half-curtsy, Mrs. Seton hurried away toward the kitchen at the end of the hallway. Matthew stared after her until the door closed and then faced Jane. “So, here we are, alone at last.”

  “Indeed.”

  He stepped away from her and paced a slow circle, his mind running through the words he should say, and the words he felt compelled to say. His mind scrambled with rare self-consciousness. Why had the talk of Jane’s imminent departure stretched his nerves tighter and tighter over the four courses of the meal?

  Fire simmered in her hazel eyes as she stared expectantly. “Well?”

  He cleared his throat. “What have I done to upset you? I wouldn’t wish for you to leave with bad feelings between us.”

  Her gaze dropped to his mouth before she inhaled and released a shaky breath. “You have changed. I can’t say I like it.”

  Surprise rippled through him, and he raised his eyebrows. “What does that mean?”

  She stepped back, opening the space between them. She looked toward the wall behind him. “It means you are colder, more abrupt than I’ve ever known you to be with me, my sister, and most of the villagers. When we do see you around the village, you stride around wearing a permanent scowl . . .” She looked at him. “Rather than the smile we have all become used to. Everyone knows what the squiress has done. I see no need to punish us when it’s she who has betrayed you. I’m tired of it.”

  “You’re . . .” He glared. “And you think I’m not? You think I enjoy being humiliated and thrown aside for another man? My wife left me, Jane. You have no idea what that does to a man. No idea at all.”

  Two spots of color darkened her cheeks, and what Matthew could have sworn was disappointment flashed in her eyes, before she blinked and fire raged once more. “Well, be that as it may, she’s gone, and I will soon be too. I’m sharing my feelings not for me, but for the people whom you are supposed to take care of, whom you are supposed to care about.”

  He clenched his jaw and spoke his next words through gritted teeth, fighting the urge to take her upper arms and shake her. “You have the gall to imply I have no care for Biddestone? For its people and problems?”

  She lifted her chin. “I do. They need to see your actions. They need to see you working to do everything you possibly can to get them through this coming winter and beyond. Your wife undoubtedly worked hard beside you, ensuring she supported—”

  “She did nothing of the sort.”

  She flinched. “Pardon?”

  Anger simmered like a ball of heat in his stomach, and he turned away from her wide eyes. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes, confused by the rush of wanting. He wanted Jane’s approval, not her disappointment. He wanted her to look at him with admiration and enthusiasm for his work, as she had for most of her adult life. Why he craved a single look of respect from her as they stood here now, he did not know. Yet, being with her here, like this, he couldn’t imagine weeks ahead without her being a part of his life.

  He turned. “When are you leaving for the city?”

  She took another step back, her gaze darting over his face. “The day after tomorrow. Why?”

  “Because I will escort you. We can travel together in my carriage.”

  “No, I do not need your—”

  “I will be going anyway. Despite your clear dismissal of both my work ethics, and me, I planned to visit some contacts in the city in the hope of securing guaranteed trade for Biddestone in the coming year. It seems unnecessary for us to make the trip separately when I have a carriage plenty big enough for us both.”

  “There is absolutely no need. Jeannie will be coming with me.”

  “My offer still stands.”

  She glared. “It’s my intention to start on the path of independence, of finding out what the world has to offer me on my own merit.” A pulse beat in the hollow at the base of her neck. “I will hardly be carving out my own path when at the first step from my home, I lean on you. I thank you, but no. Jeannie and I would prefer to go alone.”

  “You are being stubborn.”

  She pulled back her shoulders. “And you are not?”

  The longer he looked at her, the more Matthew saw the quiet beauty he had desperately tried to ignore. He took a deep and steadying breath. “Please, Jane. Let me escort you to Bath.”

  The seconds passed, but Matthew held his tongue. It was imperative she spoke next, that she understood he didn’t mean to bully her but wanted to ensure her safety to a city ravaged by danger, as much as opportunity.

  She sighed. “Fine. On one condition.”

  He held her gaze. He always knew Jane had gumption, but it seemed her gumption flowed harder than ever before. “Which is?”

  Her eyes softened, slowly lighting with mischief. “You smile. Now. You smile at me like you did before she left.”

  Heat rose to his face. “You want me to smile?”

  “Yes. Smile for me, Matthew.”

  He looked into her eyes. Gentleness, empathy, and passion swirled in their depths, but they also bore a deep, painful awareness that scratched hard over his heart. The longer he stared into her eyes and then at her mouth, the more he wanted to make her happy.

  He smiled, his gaze on hers . . . and was surprised to find the trade no effort at all.

  Chapter 3

  Jane stared around her bedroom one last time. The cream and pale blue drapes around the bed, even the plush carpets and wall coverings, pulled at her to unpack her cases and return to sanity. No matter her will to leave and strive for adventure, doubt and the pressure to stay and look after her family, as she’d been raised to do
, continued to linger.

  Yet, leaving was her only option if she were ever to spread her wings and rid herself of the surety Matthew was, and forever would be, her one true love. Loving just one man with the depth she loved Matthew had torn her heart in two, and she could bear it no longer. Were her feelings not little more than romantic nonsense fit only for the pages of a novel, rather than true life?

  “I’m a fool and so is he.” She whirled away from the bureau and placed a shawl atop the clothes in the last of her cases. She slammed the lid and closed her eyes, her fingers clawing into the case’s leather. “It is one journey and if I stay in Bath, I never need see his face again. Even if I return, it will be as a new and wiser woman, not the foolhardy girl I am now.”

  Through the open window, the crunch of gravel under hooves sounded. Jane hurried forward and gripped the sill. Matthew’s carriage, ebony black, trimmed with gold and topped with golden lanterns, came to a stop in front of the house.

  Jane’s heart beat faster. Why had she agreed for him to accompany her and Jeannie? Being in such proximity for the hours it would take to reach Bath would only add to her irritation with the man.

  Two days had passed since he’d come to the house for dinner, and she’d not seen hide nor hair of him since. Of course, the reason for that might well have been her reluctance to leave the house and risk making his acquaintance in the village. Over and over, callers had stopped by Marksville once word spread of her leaving . . . but never Matthew.

  The carriage door opened, and Matthew alighted. She cursed the stumble in her chest. How stupidly she’d bartered his accompaniment to Bath in exchange for something as simple as a smile. Why had she done such a thing? Wasn’t getting away from him part of her reason for fleeing Biddestone? Yet here he was beside her once again. She only had herself to blame.

  Thomas walked outside, his smile wide and his hand outstretched.

  Jane spun away from the window, not wanting to witness Matthew’s greeting in case it was for everyone now to draw his smile, in case he held the same fondness for her as he did all his friends.