tears. The nurse had had no right to be so cruel and dismissive, and neither had Jasper. I was only trying to help him, like I wanted to help Mother.
Her father and mother had been the first ones to leave her.
He won’t leave me. He can’t. He needs me. She dashed into their room and slammed the door shut. She snatched up the poker and knocked the coals with it, trying to elicit some warmth from the fading fire and making the flue ring with the racket. Without her, Jasper would never have his club, assuming he really wanted it. She’d heard nothing more about any plans to turn the hell over to Mr Bronson but she also hadn’t asked. After tonight, she wondered if she’d be able to question him about anything without it getting his hackles up.
She dropped down on the hearthrug, tossed the poker aside and pulled her knees to her chest, barely touched by the warmth emanating from the grate. The chill creeping through her was too severe and it made her teeth chatter. She wondered if the man she’d faced tonight was the real Jasper, the one she’d caught more than once hovering in the shadows just behind the carefree man. Perhaps she hadn’t noticed it before because she’d been too eager to marry to see the truth.
Tears slid down her cheeks. She’d wanted a life for herself and in marrying Jasper she’d thought she’d achieved it. She’d also wanted to be the most important person to someone and she wasn’t. Whatever he was hiding or trying to accomplish by keeping their spheres so separate was the most important thing to him. She came in a distant second and it stabbed at her because for all her hesitations about saying the word while they’d been intimate yesterday, she did love him. She always had and it hadn’t stopped during their time apart. She’d tried to convince herself she didn’t need his heart and could exist in a marriage without love, but like so many other aspects of her present situation it was a lie. She wanted him as much now as the night she’d tried to secure his heart nine years ago, to be his true wife in a real marriage, and he was pushing her away this morning like he had then. It made the sting of it even more severe.
This wasn’t at all how she’d expected marriage to be.
* * *
Jasper slouched in the chair with a view of the window. He stared at the brightening sky and the single star visible over the building across the way. He needed sleep, but he didn’t go upstairs. Jane had left him an hour ago and other than the clank of a poker echoing through the chimney, he hadn’t heard anything from the floor above since. If she was asleep, he could slip in beside her and rest. If she was awake, he wasn’t sure he could endure another spat. If she did rail at him, then he deserved it. She’d come down to find him because she cared and he’d shoved her away, as careless of her feelings as Uncle Patrick had been of Mrs Robillard’s plight. He hadn’t meant to be short with her, but during the day it was easy to be close to Jane, to laugh and tease with her. Not even her tender touch could drive back the ghosts at night.
He tapped the arm of the leather chair. The charade required to maintain his life was starting to crack around the edges and he wondered how much longer he could hold it together before something slipped and he revealed more than he was willing to explain. The effort of having to conceal his troubles, to sneak past her and then add more lies to the ones he already maintained when caught made it more difficult to control. He needed space to wrestle his past into submission and there was only one way to achieve it. She wouldn’t like it, but it must be done if he hoped to find a way to defeat his demons and be the kind of husband Jane deserved.
Jane climbed the stairs to their room in search of Jasper, her feet dragging with her exhaustion. It had taken ages to fall asleep after the row with him this morning. When she had, it’d been a light sleep only. Near sunrise he’d climbed in beside her, careful not to touch her. She’d pretended to be asleep to avoid another argument, but she’d remained wide awake, sure he did, too. Around six, when he’d at last fallen into a deep sleep, she’d risen, unable to lie there any longer.
She’d gone downstairs and thrown herself into business for the club before paying a visit to the furniture maker to arrange for the sale of the remaining things in the warehouse and to purchase more sedate items for the private conversation rooms. She was back home now and there was no more avoiding him today, not when she needed to discuss the transfer of goods from the warehouse to the furniture maker. Jasper had granted her a free hand to make contracts or buy and sell items, but some matters still required his assistance.
The sight in their bedroom stopped her short.
Mrs Hodgkin and the scullery maid were carrying Jasper’s things out of their room and into the adjoining one.
Fear slammed into her chest. He doesn’t want to be with me any more.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked the housekeeper, hating the way her voice shook.
Mrs Hodgkin stopped, surprised by the question. ‘Setting his things in the other room as Mr Charton requested.’
‘But this is his room.’
‘I thought you’d be more comfortable if you had this one to yourself.’ Jasper’s voice carried from behind Jane. Mrs Hodgkin and the scullery maid slipped away to finish their task as Jane faced her husband. ‘I don’t want to disturb you as I come and go at night, nor can I be disturbed when I’m sleeping in the mornings.’
He made it seem as if it was for her benefit when in reality it was for his. She refused to allow it to stand. ‘And you thought to inform the servants before you told me?’
‘You’ve been gone for some time,’ he stated as if it was reason enough to take action behind her back. It made her wonder what else he was doing and not telling her about, like the letter and the woman who’d written it.
‘And you were so eager to be out of my room you couldn’t wait?’ She might not have wanted to hurt him at the auction, but she wouldn’t mind doing so now. All she could see was her having to face Philip, her friends, all of the Fleet while they sneered at her for not having been able to keep a husband. ‘How long until you decide to leave this house as well?’
He had the nerve to balk at the question. ‘Never.’
‘Then am I to go?’
He hesitated before answering in a measured voice, ‘Jane, this changes nothing between us except where I sleep. Most married couples don’t share a room and it will only be until I give up the hell and return to normal hours.’
‘And when will that be? Have you spoken to Mr Bronson about it, made any arrangement, or were you too busy packing up your things to see to your own affairs?’
He pressed his lips tightly together and she knew she was right. It terrified her because it meant she might be right about his leaving, too. It was the man from the sitting room this morning appearing again. It frightened her as much as seeing his things piled on the bed in the adjoining room.
‘This isn’t right, Jasper, and you know it, and nothing you say will convince me otherwise.’
His face softened, as if he sensed his decision had hurt her and he wanted to soothe the sting. He slipped his arm around her waist and tried to pull her close. ‘Having separate rooms doesn’t mean you’ll always be sleeping alone.’
She went stiff in his arms, waiting for him to apologise to her and explain what had happened last night at the hell and promise
