Julianne choked back a sob.

Seth looked away, hands knotted at his sides, furious with Knightly for putting her through this ordeal, for giving her hope that she could ever lead a life where courtship and marriage were the normal course of events for her.

Setting her from him, Knightly marched from the room with stoic restraint, never once looking back. Julianne stumbled to the sofa and collapsed upon it, her shoulders shaking with dry, silent sobs that wrung his heart dry. Seth approached and gently laid a hand on her shoulder.

She jerked as though burned. “Don’t,” she cried. “Don’t comfort me as though you have no hand in my misery.”

“Julianne—”

“No,” she bit out, her voice a crack of gunfire. “I never blamed you, Seth.” She lifted her face.

Tears glistened on her cheeks. “What happened to me was an accident. I never blamed you. But this, today… I shall never forgive you. You may be too afraid to love, but that doesn’t give you the right to steal my chance.”

She dropped her face into her hands then and wept, the sound ripping through him like the slash of a sword.

Without another word, he slipped from the salon and stalked upstairs, refusing to mull over her words, to examine them for truth. She didn’t know what she was saying. Right now, pain incited her words. But the pain would fade. Along with the memory of Knightly. And time would prove him right.

He was halfway down the corridor to his chamber when the sound of his name stopped him.

Turning, he faced Jane, the sight of her doing nothing to ease the betrayal stinging his heart. She knew how deeply he took his role as Julianne’s guardian. She knew and had said nothing.

She approached, hands clenched before her. Moistening her lips, she drew a breath and spoke quickly, as if she feared losing the courage to speak, “I know you’re angry, but if you interfere between Julianne and Mr. Knightly, you will live to regret it.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Is that so?”

“Yes.” She lifted that little chin of hers at a stubborn angle. “I believe she genuinely loves him.”

“She hasn’t a clue—”

“No. _You _ haven’t,” she fired. “Don’t underestimate her. She possesses a warm and loving heart.”

“That is not what I hold in question,” he snapped. “She cannot manage the responsibilities of marriage. Can you imagine her having children in her condition?” He shook his head. “And to a man with no prospects. Such a life would entail more than she could endure.”

“What kind of life would you have her lead, then? One where she stays indoors and has someone read to her and prepare her tea? Dull and bored all of her days?”

“Yes,” he boomed. “She’ll be safe. Anything else carries too much risk for a woman like her.”

“A woman like her?” Jane echoed, her expression one of bewildered frustration.

He dragged a hand through his hair in mutual frustration. “Am I the only one aware of my sister’s limitations?”

“You’re certainly the only one willing to have them define the sum of her. She’s not as helpless as you would have her.”

“And who are you to meddle? Marrying you does not automatically invite you into all matters of my life. You have been assigned two tasks. Provide an heir and protect my sister as I would.” He raked her with a withering glare. “The latter you’ve proven yourself ill-equipped to accomplish.”

She flinched and pulled back her shoulders, the blue fabric of her dress straining across her br**sts, distracting him in a way he despised, evidence of his intolerable weakness for her. At a time like this, with the sting of her betrayal still fresh, he should look on her with utter apathy, his heart hard against her.

“Julianne is my friend, and although you may disagree, I have her best interest at heart.”

He gestured to the salon where even now the sound of his sister’s tears stabbed his ears. “You may wish to reevaluate the manner in which you treat your friends.”

“I’m not the one responsible for her tears! You’re the culprit on that score.”

His eyes flicked downward, to the slight curve of her belly nearly undetectable beneath her gown. “You may carry my child, but do not mistake that you have the right to lecture me on matters involving my sister.”

“Indeed.” Scorn laced her voice. She gave a single, tight nod. “We’re simply husband and wife.

Nothing more.”

 Nothing more. They were becoming too damned much more. More than he had ever intended.

More than he would acknowledge to her. More than he could acknowledge to himself. Shaking his head, he turned to leave. Her voice stopped him.

“Walk away,” she goaded. “You’re good at that. That and living in the past.”

Tension knotting his neck and shoulders, he swung back around. “Explain that remark.”

That slim nose of hers lifted, giving her the appearance of looking down on him. “If you permitted your sister to live her life, you might actually have to start living your own.” Her furious gaze swept over him. “Instead of living in the past and pining for a woman who will never love anyone more than herself.”

He grabbed her by the arms and gave her a small shake.

She still thought he loved Madeline? Did she know him so little? How could she think such a thing when all he thought about, all he craved, was her?

“I’m not pining after Madeline,” he growled savagely. “You’re the only woman…” He stopped himself just short of saying something truly regrettable. The sort of thing that gave a woman total control over a man.

“What?” she demanded.

Shaking his head, he released her and took a step back. Hands dropping limply to his sides, he stared at her, letting his silence speak for him.

“You don’t love Madeline.” She nodded as if only now realizing that fact, accepting it for the truth. “You don’t know how. You’re incapable of love.”

“You’re right, of course,” he agreed, wondering at the dull ache her words caused. “I warned you of as much when I married you.”

“Yes, you did.” Her eyes took on a faraway look as she nodded again. “Although I didn’t let that stop me from hoping. Foolish, I know.” Her gaze snapped back to his, her eyes mysteriously moist. “But that’s not good enough anymore. Not for me. I can’t live like this.”

“Like how?”

“In love with you,” she confessed, her voice quick and desperate, harsh in the narrow corridor.

Seth stared.

She smiled mildly. An indulgent, mirthless smile that only added to his bewilderment.

 Jane loved him? Panic and elation bubbled to life in his chest. He stomped down on the elation, cautioning himself to keep his head, to stay in control.

“Why do you think I became Aurora and followed you to Vauxhall? I wanted to be with you.

Only you. _Always _ you.” Her smile slipped and her expression became one of infinite sadness. “I never stopped loving you. Not once all these years. But I see now you’re not even remotely like the boy I once loved.”

She dipped her head, her voice small and quiet, pulling at some forgotten part of himself that he refused to release. “I mourn him. That boy was not afraid to give his heart.”

 Afraid? He stiffened. Through hard lips, he reminded, “I told you when we married not to expect—”

“Yes, yes.” She lifted her gaze, a smile that failed to reach her eyes curving her full lips. “I know.

You were unfailingly honest with me.” She drew a deep breath. “That’s all very well. Only I can’t live like this anymore. I thought I could. I thought…” Her voice faded and she sighed.

Rubbing her forehead, she looked suddenly tired. “I thought so many things. Mostly that _my _ love could bring you around. But I was wrong. So wrong. Because not only can _you _ not let yourself love—you forbid anyone around you to love either. Whether it’s your sister… or me. I’m finished living my life at the whim of others, Seth.”

“What are you saying, Jane?”

“I think I’m being fairly clear.” Her gaze drilled into his steadily. “You can’t love. And you won’t let me love you.” A small, tired laugh escaped her. “So what’s the point of any of this?”

Before he could respond Rebecca arrived at his side, her words spilling forth in an agitated rush,

“You need to attend to your sister, my lord. She is insisting on going after Mr. Knightly and wants me to help her pack.”

Sighing, he nodded. Turning back to Jane, he said, “We’ll finish this discussion when—”

“It’s finished, Seth,” she murmured, her words final in an oddly unsettling way. “Go. Do what you must.”

She whirled around, her steps falling silent on the runner.

With that curious tightness constricting his chest, he watched her disappear inside her room, wondering why he felt as though something very important were disappearing from his life.

Something that he may never have a chance at again.

Chapter 27

“I don’t know about this… don’t know at all.”

Jane gave Anna’s hand a reassuring squeeze as she settled across from her in the carriage, a curious calmness settling over her that made her exodus from Seth’s life not nearly as difficult as she had feared. “It’s for the best.”

“Running away—”

“It’s hardly that,” Jane objected evenly. “Most _ton _ marriages consist of the husband and wife living apart.”

“But your husband—”

“Won’t care,” she finished, splaying a hand on the seat to steady her as the carriage lurched forward. She rather suspected Seth would be relieved to hear she had gone. His horrified expression when she had told him she loved him had been all the incentive she needed to reach the decision.

“That man is not going to like you up and leaving like this. Pride alone will send him running after you.”

“Perhaps,” Jane allowed, resolve hardening her heart. “But pride won’t keep me at his side.” Only his love could do that. And love was the one thing he would never give her.

Jane had meant every word she said to Seth. She couldn’t continue as she was. One day she would wake up and find her love for him gone, replaced with bitterness and resentment for a man incapable of loving her back. Leaving was her only option.

Anna sighed and shook her head in a way that told Jane she disagreed. “Where are we going, then?”

“To the cottage. Mr. And Mrs. Lowery will be happy to have us. We won’t be in anyone’s way there.”

Most especially Seth’s. He could go on ruining his sister’s dreams for a life of love and happiness and live exactly as he pleased.

Without her. Without love.

“What do you mean she’s gone?” Seth rose from his seat at the empty dining table. His sister had yet to emerge from her room, refusing to see or speak with him. Her absence for breakfast came as no surprise. Jane, however, he had hoped to find in her usual seat.

“She left yesterday, my lord.”

“Why was I not informed?” he demanded, flinging his napkin on the table with unchecked violence.

The hapless butler darted a nervous look to a nearby footman. “We thought you knew, my lord.”

That his wife had left him? No, he did not know. Apparently he was the last to know. His fists curled at his sides. Though he might have guessed. He knew when she walked away yesterday afternoon that something had changed.

“Where has she gone?”

“I’m not certain, my lord. Although I think I heard her mention the cottage to your sister.”