Page 61 of Miss Vincent’s Vow

Jethro immediately regretted his behaviour. He shut the study door behind him and slumped into his chair. With his elbows on the desk, he propped up his head with his hands.

There was no use pretending. He was jealous of Mr Barnes. She was his wife—not the curate’s. No one else had a claim to her affections. She had promised.

Every mention of Mr Barnes had pushed Jethro nearer the edge until he couldn’t stand it anymore. Consumed by bitterness, his tongue had taken on a life of its own, lashing out at Cassandra, pushing her away.

He was not used to minding his words with anyone. His tart responses were well known in the business community. He said what he meant and didn’t dress it up. People respected that.

But Cassandra deserved better. He must master his jealousy and learn to control these outbursts before they eradicated what little regard his wife still had for him.

Her brother would be able to give her emotional support. His gut ached at the thought of her sharing her disappointment with him as a husband, but if she wanted to divulge her secrets to Alexander, so be it. He would not stop her.

But first, he needed to repair the damage his unkind words had done. To do that would require honesty, and that wouldn’t be easy. Because it would mean confessing how possessive he felt whenever Mr Barnes was mentioned.

He dreaded the conversation. Somehow, it would make her feelings for the curate more real to talk about them with her, but it had to be attempted if they were going to reach an understanding. A way forward, in a marriage which they’d come to without love on either side.

There was always the chance he was reading too much into it. Was it so surprising that Cassandra should feel something for a man she knew so well? Better than her own husband.

It mattered not a jot that she would have preferred to marry the curate. She was married to him, and that was that. They needed to find a way to make it work. For both their sakes.

The following morning, Jethro lingered at the breakfast table, rather than heading for the warehouse as soon as he had finished eating. “Would you like to take a walk along the seafront?”

Cassandra narrowed her eyes at him. “Now?”

“Why not?”

“Doesn’t your business need you?”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“No. It’s just that there’s so much to do, getting ready for Xander’s arrival.”

Cassandra was not making this easy for him. “I’m sure Mrs Timms has it under control.”

“Very well. Let me fetch my hat and pelisse.”

They hadn’t walked more than a hundred yards when Cassandra yanked her hand from his hold and hurried toward a man walking in their direction. A man in a captain’s uniform, whom Jethro guessed must be her brother.

The sailor dropped his bag and opened his arms to her, and she ran right into his embrace. He spun her in a circle as if she were a giddy schoolgirl rather than a married woman.

Jethro’s chest tightened. How would it feel if Cassandra ran into his arms like that and he twirled her around?

The captain put her back on her feet, and she took his hand and led him to where Jethro stood.

“Xander, allow me to present my husband, Mr Hunt.”

Alexander bowed to him with notable restraint. The hostility was almost tangible.

Jethro’s hackles rose. How dare Cassandra’s brother show up six months after his father’s death, full of animosity toward the man who had saved his sister from destitution? The man who was also opening up his home to him.

He was about to utter a withering comment when a glance at his wife stopped him. Her face was alight with joy at being reunited with her brother.

To please Cassandra, he would be civil to Alexander, though it went against the grain. He must try.

With that goal in mind, Jethro extended his arm. After a moment’s hesitation, the captain took his hand and shook it, but the wary look in his eye did not bode well.

Cassandra seemed content with the way Jethro had greeted her brother, shooting him a brief smile before linking arms with Alexander and heading back toward the house.

Her walk with him was forgotten. She didn’t even glance behind her to see if he was following.