Page 21 of Miss Vincent’s Vow

“I was so delighted not to have to talk to Eugenia I could have hugged you. I thought better of it, not wishing to embarrass you, though it might have persuaded the gossips we held each other in affection.”

Jethro’s pulse quickened just thinking of his wife’s arms around him. The prospect was more inviting than he cared to admit.

But no sooner had the notion entered his mind, then his ears started to ring, as if his mother was standing over him, boxing them all over again. How dare you, Jethro Hunt? A true gentleman does not behave like that.

The old accusation sent heat coursing up his neck and it threatened to flood his cheeks. Jethro willed it to subside, desperate to regain command of his emotions. He hated losing control.

He focused on the rest of Cassandra’s words. What was it she had said? It might have persuaded the gossips we held each other in affection.

The heat faded without effort as the implication sunk in. A hug would have presented a picture of mutual regard—a regard which needed to be pretended.

Or did it?

Jethro already cared about his wife’s welfare. He wasn’t sure where the concern had come from. On their wedding day, she’d ruffled his peace and received the lash of his tongue. But somewhere during the course of the few days they’d been married, he’d grown decidedly protective of his wife.

How had that happened? He hardly knew her. Was it the promises he’d made? Perhaps. Only time would tell. But it could prove awkward if this protectiveness turned into something more. Especially if any affection on her side had to be fabricated.

Emotions were messy, uncontrollable things, as he had just proved. They would only complicate matters. He needed to keep his marriage on a businesslike footing. It would be better to maintain his distance. Not lose control.

He would never have risen to become a successful merchant if he’d got choked up every time events hadn’t gone according to plan. His marriage was just the same. His business principles would ensure he kept both his feet planted firmly on the ground.

“Forgive me for deserting you again so soon,” he said, “but I wish to spend some time in private devotion.”

With a brief nod toward her, he fled to his study, but not before he’d noticed the disappointment in her eyes, as if she truly regretted his abrupt departure.

All the more reason to leave. He needed space. Time to think. Away from his wife.

Chapter 11

Cassandra still smarted from Jethro’s desertion three days later. Even then, she couldn’t figure out what she’d done wrong. One moment, they’d been in harmony with each other, standing together against Eugenia Frampton. The next, she was alone again.

If only she knew her husband better, perhaps she would understand what had caused him to withdraw, and she could ensure she didn’t repeat the mistake.

Every time Cassandra was tempted to moan at her lot, she reminded herself the situation was of her own making. No one had forced her to marry Jethro. But she had vowed to love him, and love him she would—or she would die trying.

But how was she supposed to love her husband when she didn’t know the man? And how could she get to know him when they had so few hours together? Since Sunday, she’d only seen him at dinner each day. All his remaining time was spent at the warehouse or in his study.

It was this thought that propelled her to rise early enough to join Jethro for breakfast before he left the house.

She wondered why she had made the effort, as he spoke no more than ten words to her during the meal. As soon as she had drained her teacup and returned it to its saucer, her husband rose from the table and bid her a curt goodbye.

Cassandra tried to ignore the ache in her heart caused by his coldness, but it wouldn’t go away.

Was it wrong of her to want more? To long for some physical demonstration of the love Jethro had sworn to give her? Something that would set her apart from his servants, and show that his wife meant more to him than Mrs Timms or one of the maids?

A kiss on the cheek. A hug. Even a handshake would be better than nothing.

But no. He treated her more like an employee than the woman he had married. Was she only there to be called upon when it suited him?

It had not occurred to Cassandra she could be as isolated as a married lady as when she had been shut away in the rectory, caring for her father during his last illness. She felt so alone, she could have screamed.

In desperation, she sent a note to Miss Seymour’s School, asking her stepsister to call whenever she next had time off from her teaching responsibilities.

It was something of a surprise to find Julia at her door less than half an hour later.

“I happen to have the morning off and thought I may as well come at once. Now, are you going to show me around your fine house, or is your husband lurking in a corner somewhere?”

Cassandra blushed at her sister’s bluntness, but hastened to assure her of Jethro’s absence.