Page 45 of Stolen By the Duke of Stone

“Is everything all right?” he asked when she said nothing.

“I came to check on you,” she blurted.

He frowned. “Check on me?”

“Yes. Because…” How to phrase this without sounding as though she had been watching him this entire time, and that she wanted nothing more than to soothe whatever pain he was experiencing? “I thought perhaps you might be a little sad.”

His eyes searched hers for a long moment.

“A little sad,” he repeated.

“I saw your face earlier.”

He tilted his head. Not angry, but not open, not yet. He was a closed book to her. “You seem very concerned about my face, Jessamine.”

“Merely…” After a moment’s hesitation, she sat beside him, hands braced on the bed on either side. There was enough distance between them that there was no danger of them accidentally touching. “Well, you were looking at me.”

That prompted him into a snort, and she smiled a little. They sat in silence for a long moment, and for once it didn’t feel awkward or strained. So much had sat between them since they were married, but this felt like harmony, in a strange way.

“I thought perhaps it might be to do with Rebecca,” she said.

He leaned forward so his arms were braced against his knees, hands clasped between them. “What made you think that?”

“It was an event celebrating her son,” Jessamine said. “And also erasing her from the picture. No one knows that William is her son.” She laced her fingers together, staring down at them rather than at Andrew.

Lady Marwich’s advice rang through her ears again, insisting that a man like Andrew needed a gentle touch.

This had to be it. There could be no denying he was locked inside his own head, thinking about something she had no access to, and there could also be no denying that if they could just talk about it—if he could finally open up to her—they might have one of the most honest conversations they’d had since their marriage.

“Rebecca was my friend,” she continued when Andrew didn’t speak. “I know it’s not the same as the bond you two had, and I would never compare my loss to yours, but I loved her too.”

Slowly, Andrew turned his head to look at her. For once, his blue eyes weren’t hard. The sternness in his face had softened into something she knew well: grief.

“Talking about Rebecca has…” His voice came rough, and he coughed to steady it. “It has never come easily to me.”

“That’s all right.” Jessamine smiled gently. “I can do the talking, if you like. Here’s what I remember. Rebecca was a kind woman. She loved freely, and openly, and was never afraid to say what she thought. Her marriage had been a source of sadness, yes, but it had never defined her. She was bold and bright, and she made the world a better place for being in it.” Jessamine shot Andrew a sideways glance. “And I know she was close with you when you were children.”

He blew out a long breath and closed her eyes. “I failed her.”

Jessamine waited, knowing there was more.

“Her father… My uncle, he was determined for her to marry Lord Cartwell, despite his age and infirmity. It was cruel to expect a girl so young to marry a man so old. She begged me for help, but…”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and Jessamine put a daring hand on his.

“She begged me,” he repeated, “but I was unable to stop it. No matter how I tried, I couldn’t convince her father to do otherwise. No one could convince him of anything he didn’t want to do. He had never known compassion, much like my own father. Neither of them ever once felt sorry for the woman they condemned. And… All her father saw was the personal gain.” Andrew shook his head, his mouth turning down. “As for my own father, he sent me into the army. Bought me a commission and all but shipped me away as Rebecca married. We exchanged letters for a while, but I knew how desperately sad she was, and she knew I had let her down. I should have tried harder. Run away with her. Defied our fathers.”

He made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat, and Jessamine ached for him.

“It sounds as though there was nothing you could have done,” she told him.

“That’s nothing but an excuse!” His jaw snapped shut. “Claiming there is nothing else to do amounts to giving up. And she was my family, Jessamine. She deserved more than giving up.”

All at once, Jessamine felt as though something had clicked into view, as though she had finally put on a much-needed pair of glasses.

Andrew was not cold and unforgiving. He grieved his cousin, but worse, he held himself accountable for every bad thing that had ever happened to her, and blamed himself every time he thought of her.

“Andrew,” Jessamine whispered, shuffling closer. “You can’t carry this burden around with you for the rest of your life.”