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Chapter Ten
Ava descended the stairs holding up the hem of Sarah’s elegant silver-gray cambric gown, which was several inches too long for her and a bit tight across the bodice even though the laces were loosened at the back. She rounded the bend in the stairs and saw her brother and Jerome waiting for them in the entrance hall.
Her heart turned over at the sight of Jerome. He’d dressed and shaved. His hair, still damp, was slicked back, and he looked almost his usual elegant self. Except for his pallor and the dark circles under his eyes.
He was speaking to Rob, but she couldn’t hear what he was saying. As if sensing her presence, he broke off and looked up. The smile that spread across his face at the sight of her lifted the heaviness from his shoulders and her heart. She lifted her skirts higher and ran down the remaining steps, trailed at a more sedate pace by Sarah.
“Jerome!” she said, coming to a stop before him, a hank of blonde curl coming loose from its pins and falling on her forehead. She pushed it away and stared up at him yearningly. He took her hand and kissed it formally, and she flushed, realizing that they were, of course, not alone. Her brother was scowling at her, and she dropped a curtsy and resisted the urge to fling her arms around Jerome’s neck and kiss him.
“I will see you in three weeks,” he said, his intense blue eyes locking with hers.
“Three weeks?”
“I have to go to London.”
The countess is in London. A stab of jealous anxiety shook her usual confidence. As if sensing her attack of insecurity, he leaned down and kissed her cheek gently. “Go with Robert and Sarah. They will take care of you. I’ll see you soon.”
She swallowed and nodded. He escorted her to the door and down the steps to the waiting carriage. The rising sun was tinging the sky with pale bluish-gray and gold, chasing away the darkness. He handed her up into the carriage and stepped back.
She twisted to watch him until he was lost to her sight as the carriage pulled away down the drive.
*
London, Four Days Later
Jerome found the Countess of Esberry in her parlor writing letters. She looked up, startled at the announcement of his name. She dropped her pen and rose, a faint flush staining her cheeks.
“My lord, I did not look to see you again for some weeks. What has brought you back to London so quickly? Not some bad news, I hope?”
“I needed to see you.”
“Oh!” Her color deepened, and his heart sank further. He was wretched and deeply embarrassed over this, but there was nothing for it except to tell her the truth and hope that he didn’t hurt her too much. At best, she would be deeply insulted. At worst . . . She waved him to a seat on the sofa and they both sat. Gathering her composure, she said with commendable calm, “What is it?”
“I hope that I can rely on your discretion—”
“Of course,” she frowned and then, as if sensing his distress, she laid a hand on his and said softly again, “What is it?”
“I came to tell you that my circumstances have changed. I felt that after our previous conversation, I owed you nothing less than the truth and that I should deliver it in person.”
She nodded slowly, eyebrows raised.
He took a breath and plunged in. “The fact is, I am no longer free to follow through on my offer of marriage to you.” His face felt flaming hot. He’d not been this embarrassed or ashamed in years. Not since Charis.
“I—I see.” She swallowed visibly and looked down at her lap.
“I realize how insulting this is—I am sorrier than I can say to put you in this position—but through an unforeseen circumstance I find myself honor bound to offer the protection of my name to another lady.”
She looked up at that, her large, dark eyes scanned his face for something—he didn’t know what. Her own expression had become quite blank. As he had previously observed, Isabella Mortimer was good at masking her feelings. His own heart lurched at what that suggested about her past. This woman wasn’t for him, but he found himself fervently wishing she would find a man who would love and care for her as she should be cared for.
“Do you love her?” she asked softly.
He closed his eyes. “God help me, yes.”
“When you spoke with me previously, I gather you did not believe that you had any hope?”
“That is correct. I believed her to be on the verge of contracting an alliance to another.”
“I see. Then I wish you every happiness, my lord.” Her voice was steady as she spoke.
