Page 2 of The Widow Wore Plaid

“But instead, Jane has put you off.”

Gareth stopped and stared at his friend. “In some ways worse than Fanny did to you.”

A grimace flitted over Lathbury’s face. Fanny had led him a merry chase for months on end last summer and into the late fall. “Sorry to hear that, old chap.”

Kinellan shrugged, then began his long strides again. “The problem is, like you, I need a wife to give me an heir. I’d prefer it to be Jane.”

“Is there anyone else you’d consider?”

“Was there any other candidate for you?”

Lathbury sighed. “I take your point.” They walked in silence until his friend spoke once more. “Jane will come around. You must give her time.”

“Time may not do the trick in this case.” They continued around the property, along the crushed stone pathway that led toward the formal garden on the extreme north side of the castle.

“Why do you say that? What reason has she given you for her refusals?”

“The same as Fanny originally gave you: independence.” Gareth almost spit out the word. “Her late husband had arranged his affairs so that she would be extremely well set-up upon his demise.” He hated to think ill of the dead, but the man had made it too easy for Jane to eschew another marriage. Perhaps jealousy had been a factor and he hadn’t wanted Jane to take another husband. “Tarkington invested his money well, in both property and a shipping venture that has brought in astonishing returns on several voyages. Jane and their children will want for nothing as long as they live. So my offer won’t appeal to her for reasons of finances or security, as yours did with Fanny. It seems I myself must be the major attraction to induce Jane to give that all up.”

“You do get along well, though.” Lathbury’s tone was hopelessly optimistic.

“We have until recently.” Clenching his jaw until it ached, Gareth forced himself to relax it. He had to remind himself he had no control over what Jane did. “Do you know she moved her children to a property in Lincolnshire?”

Lathbury frowned. “No, I hadn’t heard. Why?”

“Well, she wanted to remove them from Theale House in London and the influence of her brother-in-law. I can’t say I blame her for that, especially after Fanny’s horrible experience with that madman. Her two oldest boys are away at school, but the younger boy and the girl have been in London. In March she sent for them and settled them at Cranston Park, a property her late husband had purchased. The tenants’ lease had just ended.”

“Why didn’t she bring them here?” A judiciously raised eyebrow spoke Lathbury’s censure toward him.

“Oh, I assure you, that was not my fault. I encouraged her to do just that.” Gareth all but growled. It had been the first indication that all was not well between him and Jane. “She declined, stating she’d never had her children underfoot and didn’t wish to start now. The mothering instinct is not strong in her, she claims.”

“That is perplexing.” His friend sent him a sympathetic look. “Do you think, perhaps, that might change if she were to have your child?”

“I can only hope she’d take more of an interest in our child. If there is to be a child. We have to get married first and she’s adamantly refused me multiple times. The last time I asked . . .” Gareth halted at the gate to the formal garden, the image of Jane’s face as she spoke as fresh as if it were yesterday. An image he wished he could forget. “In June I deemed the time right to try again and got down on my knee here, in the garden, and begged her to become my wife.”

“And she said no.” The look of pity on Lathbury’s face cut him to the quick.

“Not only did she say no, but she implored me never to ask her again. She said if I did she would leave and never return.” The sunny future he’d envisioned for him and Jane had died that day. “I swear to you, Lathbury, I won’t ask her to marry me again. Although if I’m to have any hope of a future or an heir, I may need to ask her to leave.”

* * *

“So you are happy now you are finally in Scotland, Jane?” Her dearest cousin, Charlotte, Lady Wrotham settled her teacup back in its saucer and fixed Jane with a curious stare.

Happiness was less easy for Jane to admit these days than others might think. Sitting with her best friends in her favorite green and pink drawing room in Castle Kinellan, she could indeed say she was happy, though not for the reasons they’d imagine. She’d not seen Charlotte, Fanny, Elizabeth, Georgie, or Maria, all members of their self-proclaimed Widows’ Club, for more than six months. Not since Maria’s marriage to Hugh Granger in January. So it was wonderful to have them all with her again. Her happiness should know no bounds . . . and yet it did.

“Why do you ask, my dear? Do I not seem happy to you?” Jane meant her comment to be light, but it came out rather defensive instead. Now Charlotte would pursue the matter like a dog with a bone.

“Frankly, no, my dear.” Fanny, Lady Lathbury jumped into the conversation with both feet. No surprise, that. “You’ve tried to look happy ever since we arrived, but we can tell it’s only been for show, Jane. Something is wrong, I can tell. What is it?”

With a sigh that might well have come from her very soul, Jane set her cup and saucer on the table beside her with a rattling clink. Seeing her good friends again after such a long time was as wonderful as it was trying for several reasons. “There is no cause for me not to be happy or content, Fanny. I have been reunited with Kinellan, I’ve removed the children from the terrible influence at Theale House and into Tark’s estate in Lincolnshire.” She beamed first at Charlotte, then at Fanny. “And now I have all my friends around me once more. Why should I not be content?”

“Being content and being happy are two different things, dear.” Charlotte smoothed her summer yellow gown, her hand rounding the curve of her belly that announced she was increasing once more. “Aren’t you happy with Lord Kinellan?”

“Of course I am, Charlotte.” Fingering her sapphire pendant, a surprise gift from Kinellan upon her arrival in Scotland in March, Jane dropped her gaze to her lap.

“But?” Fanny leaned over the sofa to peer at her. “Have you said something you shouldn’t? Or has he?”

“I suppose I did.” Well, now it would come out. She should have expected this inquisition, so why she wasn’t better prepared for it was her own fault. Whoever said confession was good for the soul obviously had never had to make one before their friends. “I’ve refused Kinellan’s proposal.”