Page 84 of Sinful Persuasion of a Lady in the Making
Chapter Thirty
“Come on, Jenny. You can’t lie in bed crying forever.”
Alison gently coaxed Jenny up, but Jenny merely groaned in reply and buried her face further into her blankets. Her hair was a tangled mess, her eyes red and sore, and though she had done little for days, she felt entirely spent.
Why can’t I stay here forever?
Alison rubbed her shoulder, and Jenny reluctantly rolled onto her back and looked up at her.
“I really thought Lady Diana was talking nonsense at the party.”
“I know,” Alison said softly. “As did I.”
“I didn’t think Sebastian capable of such hurtful behavior. I thought he must have just been held up somewhere, that he would arrive and surprise us all, tell us all how it had been a joke.”
“Come down to dinner,” Alison urged. “It will do you go to get out of bed, and even more to have something to eat.”
Jenny closed her eyes and sighed.
“I never thought I would get into such a state over a man,” she said, although without opening her eyes. “Am I really that weak?”
“You are not weak at all,” Alison said firmly. “You are grieving over the loss of what you thought would be your future. There is nothing wrong with that.”
“It’s been three days now, Alison,” Jenny cried, finally opening her eyes and looking up at her sister-in-law with a pleading gaze. “And I haven’t heard a single word. Everything Lady Diana said must have been true, or he would have said something, sent something, wouldn’t he?”
“It would seem that way,” Alison said, looking briefly down at her hands.
Jenny pushed her lips together as hard as she could, forcing back yet another sob. She had lost her love, and in among all the pain and despair, her mind kept reminding her about the letter. Whoever had written it was right—their potential marriage was a joke.
Still, she knew she couldn’t keep crying; she had to find a way to pull herself together. As devastated as she was, he was a scoundrel for doing this to her, and she was just as angry at herself for not seeing it before.
“Come to dinner?” Alison asked hopefully.
“Will Luke be especially hard on me?” she asked, half-wincing at the thought. Alison gasped at the idea.
“Hard on you? Goodness me, he will not be hard at all. He loves you, Jenny, you know that. And he is as sad as I am to see you in such a way. Have a little faith in your brother. I know he has changed since we were married, but it’s because he’s working so hard to make everything just right for all of us.”
“You’re right,” Jenny said with a nod. “I’ll come to dinner.”
“Excellent!” Alison sat back with a satisfied expression. “Shall I send Fanny in to assist you?”
“No, thank you. I’d prefer to dress alone today.”
“As you wish.”
It took Jenny a few minutes after Alison had closed the door before she found the energy to drag herself from her bed. She pulled off her nightclothes and then slipped into a simple muslin gown, beige in color to match her feelings.
She scraped back her hair, pulling it from her face and pinning it roughly. It was far from perfect—barely even presentable—but it was enough for dinner with her brother and Alison.
Her reflection was gaunt and pale, her eyes lined with dark, heavy circles and red-rimmed.
“You’ve been a fool,” she muttered to her reflection, prodding at the skin on her cheeks. “You must stop this and rise again. You will not let a rascal like Lord Sebastian Hartwood destroy you.”
She sighed at her own words, knowing how difficult it would be to truly embrace them, but she nodded with a burgeoning determination. And dinner was the beginning of her recovery.
“I’m pleased you could join us,” Luke said as soon as she trudged into the dining room, and he did, indeed, seem genuinely pleased.
“Good evening.”
