What did one do with a husband? What did one converse about? She envied her friends who had married someone they’d known since childhood. At least, those couples had topics to talk about. She knew very little about Moreham. The fact she now thought of him as Moreham was not lost on her. Yes, indeed the honeymoon was over.
It would appear she would not learn more about the earl since neither of them spoke until the coach was well away from Town. With no warning, Moreham took hold of her hand. “I’m so very sorry about the note. I can only imagine how you are feeling now. I am an unfeeling cad to subject you to continuing this farce.”
“No, you mustn’t take on that burden. As I said before I made my choice to come to you not the other way. I’m certain you regarded me as a nondescript brown bird not the proper wife for a peer of the Realm, am I?
“You are more of a woman than any other lady I know. You entrance me with your intellect and loyalty. Your belief in Whitney has never wavered even when you found the note. I do regret the turn of events. My apology for the distress I have caused you.”
She started to speak but he raised his hand to stop her and continued. “I have a plan. Once this mess is over, you can have your choice of my homes. We will visit each one in turn until you find the house you want. I’ll provide you with an income and household staff to see to your every need.”
Gillian was confused. What is the man saying? “My every need? Where will you be?”
“I’ll be here in Town. Seeing to the welfare of the government.”
Tears gathered in her eyes. Should her uncle be found guilty, he would be lost to her. Her aunt would not survive such a revelation of that much she was certain. Now, Moreham was saying he would ship her off to a country house to live out her life alone. Was this his retribution against her for being related to a traitor?
The hand holding of the past day had been so special for her. No man had ever touched her ungloved hand. His touch comforted her. After a single day of marriage, she craved his touch. The notion of not having him at her side was unthinkable.
Clearly, the obtuse man wo she regarded as Moreham was unaware of how upsetting his words had been. He didn’t care for her. She was a means to an end for him. She turned away to wipe at her tears.
Who had she married? Moreham or James? Oh, what a horrid situation.
The silence in the coach was deafening. How he wished he knew what Gillian was thinking. She’d not uttered a word for several miles. Feeling completely at sea, Moreham searched his mind for something to say to end the quietude.
Every now and then he would look up from his reading to find Gillian equally involved with her correspondence. After the second hour of silence, he began to resent her indifference. After the third hour, he tossed his reading aside and cleared his throat.
“Moreham, do you wish to say something?” Gillian asked over the rims of her spectacles. That was another surprise. His wife wore spectacles. Not that there was anything wrong with doing so, he groused, but why did she look even more enticing with the infernal accessory perched on her nose.
He felt betrayed. He didn’t know her well enough. He grimaced at that thought. They’d known each for mere days. What else did he not know about this woman?
“No, dearest Gillian, I am entranced by your spectacles.”
“Do you find them repulsive? Most do,” she asked.
He sensed the wall she threw up between them.
Words rushed from his mouth to reassure her. “Of course not, I rather like them on you. You look wiser somehow. I find it surprising is all. I had no notion. I am reminded how little we know of each other.” She shrank into herself. He had to say something and hopefully not the wrong something. “I find myself wanting to remove them and kiss you. Rather occupied with that thought, actually.”
Gillian said nothing. She remained still. He tried to think of what to say next. He didn’t want to read dry reports. He wanted her eyes light up when he managed to say something funny. He wanted to hear her giggle. He wanted to join her on the forward-facing seat, slip those rimmed spectacles off her face, and kiss her. Not the small buss of the lips he gave his mother, but a real kiss.
He wanted to know her taste, to treasure the sensation. Sadness engulfed his being. He realized he had no idea how to affect the closeness needed to get that kiss he craved so desperately. Gillian returned his gaze with a look as heated as his own must be, he accepted this woman was the most important person in his life. He refused to believe either of them was in love, but whatever emotion they were experiencing was growing into a stronger emotion than any he’d known before.
He cleared his throat. Gillian turned her somber gaze in his direction. If he lived to be a hundred years old, he would never understand the inner workings of a lady’s mind.
One fact that prevailed was her distress was his fault. Not that he had a single notion as to why, but he did have an inkling of how to ease her dismal mood.
“I find it’s getting a bit chilly. Do you mind if I hold you?” Gillian didn’t speak but nodded her agreement.
