receptions to business acquaintances.
“Perhaps we should go into my office?” he asked, gesturing behind him.
There was no reason not to. After all, they could hardly discuss their situation standing in the foyer. Charles had disappeared, as butlers always do, but she was certain he and some of the other staff were well within earshot. Yet going deeper into the house—with Brandon—caused Jana’s palms to dampen and set her nerves on end.
The heat of his body wafted over her as she crossed the foyer and he fell in step beside her. His scent came with the heat, stirring her memories once more.
As they passed the parlor doorway, Jana glanced inside, then stopped and gasped aloud. The room that she’d begun decorating—along with the entire rest of the house—stood just as she’d left it fourteen months ago. One wall half papered, cans of paint in the corner, shrouded furniture pushed to the center of the room.
“You never finished the work?” she asked, unable to keep the surprise from her voice.
“No, of course not,” Brandon replied, as if he didn’t really understand why she would ask such a question.
He continued down the hallway leaving her to follow. When she stepped into Brandon’s office, another wave of emotion struck her. The room, with its heavy walnut furniture, deep green carpet and drapes, had been the first completed in the new house. The decorator—that dreadful Mr. McDowell—had seen to it. No one had asked Jana’s opinion of the color scheme or the furnishings. Or anything else, for that matter.
But it suited Brandon. The office was his refuge. He spent most of his time there, when he was home. Jana had seldom entered the room.
How odd that she’d be there today, when she intended to end their marriage.
Somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to sit on the dark leather sofa. She stood, with the oil painting of cornered foxes, snarling bears and mountain lions glaring down at her.
“I see you’ve kept everything here the same,” she couldn’t help but say.
Brandon’s gaze bounced from wall to wall, then fell on her again as she stood a few yards in front of him.
“Why would I change it?” he asked, frowning slightly.
Why, indeed? Brandon preferred—demanded—things stay the same. Jana knew that all too well.
A long silence passed, and finally Brandon spoke again.
“So,” he said briskly. “You’re home now. That’s the important thing. We can put all this nonsense behind us and—”
“Nonsense?”
“Yes,” he went on, rubbing his palms together. “We can forget about what you did, and get on with our lives.”
Stunned, Jana just stared, unable to speak.
Brandon moved to his desk and began sorting through papers. “You’ll want to continue with decorating the house and pick up where you left off with the women’s organizations in town. The servants have done an adequate job, but you’ll need to supervise them more closely this time. There are invitations and correspondence that you will need to attend to before—”
“You…you expect me to take over all my old duties?” Jana asked, shaking her head slowly. “Is that why you think I came back?”
Brandon’s hands stilled on the papers and his gaze came up quickly. “Well, yes.”
“That’s not why I came here,” Jana said. “I’m only here to tell you I want a divorce.”
Breath left Brandon in a huff as color drained from his face. Jana rushed on, anxious to get this ordeal over with, to leave and never return.
“My aunt’s attorneys will arrange everything,” she said.
Brandon didn’t respond.
“You needn’t worry. I won’t ask for anything.” Jana gestured around the room. “You can keep it all.”
“No…”
“I’ll be certain everything is handled quickly. Goodbye, Brandon,” she said, and hurried toward the door.
“No!”
The wrath, the raw anger in Brandon’s voice brought Jana up short. She whirled. Fists clenched, shoulders rigid, jaw set, Brandon glared at her.
She hadn’t expected him to say nothing at all. But she hadn’t expected him to disagree, either. After all, it had been fourteen months, fourteen long months, with no communication whatsoever. Certainly, Jana hadn’t anticipated the fury she saw now on her husband’s face.
He came around the desk. “You want a—a—a divorce?”
Jana drew up her courage. “Yes.”
Brandon didn’t speak, just glared. She rushed on, feeling pressured to explain. “I’ve been gone too long. We’re practically strangers.”
“No…”
Jana drew in a breath. “Our marriage is dead.”
“No!”
She dug deep, finding the calm she’d struggled to develop these last fourteen months. “Brandon, you have to face the truth. It’s over.”
“We’re married,” Brandon told her, his anger growing. “Whether you like it or not. Legally and in the eyes of God. We’re married.”
Her anger flared. “I hardly need you to remind me of the vows I took.”
“Somebody needs to.” Brandon flung the words at her. “Before you go running off again.”
“I don’t deserve to be spoken to as if—”
“And fourteen months ago I deserved to hear you tell me to my face that you were leaving!”
“I was gone two days before you realized I’d left!”
That shut him up. Brandon’s anger subsided, but only a little. He drew in a breath and tilted his head left, then right, easing the tension in his neck, as she’d seen him do so many times before.
“At the time, I was heavily involved in a crucial business deal that was teetering on collapse, if you recall,” Brandon explained, his voice softer but just as tense. “I had early-morning meetings, meetings that stretched into the night. It didn’t occur to me to look into my wife’s bedroom each evening to see whether or not she’d run off.”
Jana met his gaze but didn’t answer. His explanation was reasonable, yet didn’t erase the pain she’d gone through at the time.
After another long moment, Brandon spoke again, his voice straining for calm.
“As I said, we are married. You and I are bound together by law and in the sight of God. Our marriage isn’t over simply because you declare it to be.”
