Page 49 of The Truth about the Marquess
Jane swallowed thickly and tried to smile. The words were there for her to speak but they would not come and thus, silence filled the space between them for some minutes.
Then, Lord Edenbridge leaned a little closer and, putting his hand on top of hers, gazed back at her.
“You appear a little ill at ease, Jane. Are you quite all right?”
Nodding, Jane closed her eyes.
“I – I am well. It is only that there is something I wish to tell you.”
“Oh?”
His hand had not left hers and heat began to prickle up Jane’s arm, going straight to her heart, where a fluttering sensation had begun.
“I wanted to tell you that…” Closing her eyes to shut out the sight of him, Jane took in another steadying breath. “I wanted to tell you that I received your letter.”
Silence was her only response and, opening her eyes, Jane looked into the face of Lord Edenbridge, seeing him frown. She could say nothing more, watching as he searched her face, praying that somehow, understanding would come before she had to make any further explanations.
Then, Lord Edenbridge’s breath caught in a gasp, his eyes flared wide and he stared at her with shock rippling across his expression.
Jane dropped her head.
“It was you?” he breathed, his hand now tightening on hers rather than pulling away. “You are the one who has been writing to me, the one who responded at The London Chronicle?”
She could do nothing other than glance at him and give him the smallest of nods.
Lord Edenbridge rose suddenly, standing back from her, staring at her as though he had never seen her before, and a great and terrible fear rose up in Jane’s heart. He was going to be angry with her, upset and broken that she had kept such things from him, was he not? He might ask her to leave his house, might demand that she no longer be in his acquaintance, and all because she had not told him the truth.
“You wore peacock feathers in your mask,” he murmured, as Jane closed her eyes tightly, her fingers weaving together as she fought back against her fears. “You came to tell me about Miss Leverton and then were you not eager to say more?”
Tears burned behind Jane’s eyes.
“I wanted to tell you the truth of who I was,” she said, her voice rasping. “But then Lord Tertford came, and I could not continue.” Opening her eyes again, she blinked back against her tears again, trying to keep him in focus. “I am sorry that I did not tell you before, but I did not feel that it was necessary and, truth be told, I hesitated because I did not always want to admit to anyone else that I had employment. I know that you must be angry with me for hiding that part of myself from you–”
“Angry?” Lord Edenbridge interrupted her, sounding astonished as she nodded. “No, Jane, not in the least!” He hurried towards her now, bending down in front of her, covering her hands with his. “Jane, I am overjoyed!”
The fear that had held her shattered in an instant, her breath hitching as she tried to understand, astonished at the smile which was spreading wide across his face.
“You – you are?”
“Of course I am! I have wondered who this wise, kind creature might be, only to realize that the wise, kind lady that I already know, that I already call a dear friend, is the very same! I should have guessed, mayhap, that you were the writer at TheLondon Chronicle, and your consideration of me and your gentle encouragements have been the only things to bolster my heart.”
A dear friend. There was a slight tinge of sadness now in Jane’s faint smile, realizing that though he was glad to know the truth, though he was happy to hear that she was the one that had been writing to, there was nothing more to their connection for him than that.
“I am relieved that you have accepted the truth so easily,” she told him, squeezing his fingers back gently. “Thank you for your understanding.”
“Thank you for all that you did for me.”
Jane let out a slightly broken laugh, looking away from him.
“Though I am sorry that it did not bring you success.”
There came a momentary pause, only for Lord Edenbridge to lean a fraction closer, forcing her gaze back to him simply by his nearness.
“Oh, but I think that it did.” Jane did not know what he meant. The look in his eyes made her feel as though she had stepped out of a cold rain into a warm room where the fire burned hot in the grate. When a slow, small smile began to cross his lips, Jane shivered, though it was not from fear, but rather from a tiny flare of hope which began to burn in her heart. “You have made me feel a good many things of late, Jane.” Lord Edenbridge, perhaps seeing that she was not about to speak aloud, rose to his feet, only to then come and sit directly beside her. “But the truth is, I have kept all of those emotions back from myself because I know that you have no interest in pursuing any sort of closer connection with me.”
Her breath hitched, her eyes widening.
“I do not… how do you know such a thing?”
