Jane had not heard any of this before now. “So…it was not a selfish, capricious thing, when he jilted June for Ophelia?”
“Some might say my brother was wrong to remain with Ophelia the entire night, or even to carry her off from the fire in the first place, but she might have died and…” Elizabeth shrugged. “Well, it is neither here nor there. But you may believe Townsend was heartbroken, for he had wished to court and marry Ophelia. He and Wescott fought—truly fought, until the servants had to separate them—and Townsend went to Europe in a temper.”
Jane looked at Rosalind, but her sister-in-law didn’t deny any of this. She scowled at Elizabeth, yes, but did not interrupt.
“And then?” prompted Jane, wiping away tears.
“Winter came and Townsend’s parents called him home from Europe to spend the holidays and hopefully mend his rift with my brother. Instead, he got a plan in mind to exact revenge on Wescott by proposing to the woman he’d intended to marry. That is…your sister June.”
“But June was already married by then.”
“Indeed, but Townsend was still in such a fury over Ophelia, and so gleeful in his plan that he mistook you and your sister, with your names so close in nature, and offered for your hand instead.”
“You make my brother sound awful,” Rosalind said to Elizabeth. “He kept his word with Jane, after all of it. He married her despite his error.”
“His error,” Jane repeated softly. “So our marriage was a mistake.” Her voice caught in her throat. “No, it was a revenge.”
“You mustn’t think of it like that,” said Rosalind, before turning on Elizabeth again. “Now, what good has it done to tell her? You’ll do nothing but drive a wedge between them, and for what?”
“For her to know the truth,” said Elizabeth. “For her to understand.”
Oh, Jane understood. At last everything added up—Edward’s surprise proposal, the quick wedding, and the worrisome emotional distance between the two of them. He’d married her due to a mistake, a plot gone awry. He’d meant to propose to June to get back at Lord Wescott for marrying his beloved, and ended up with her instead, and married her because he could not get out of it without the loss of his lofty, upstanding reputation.
“How ridiculous,” she said. She felt numb. Bereft. Heartbroken. Humiliated in the extreme.
“Dear sister, you mustn’t cry anymore.” Rosalind embraced her, her eyes deep with sympathy. “My brother behaved badly, yes, but don’t cry here and let everyone see your misery. It will only make things worse.”
“Indeed, why cry about it now?” Jane said, grief giving way to something else, something rougher and wilder. “It’s done, isn’t it? All done and done for months now, and he’s stuck with me forever, and Wescott with Ophelia, although they seem happy enough.”
“Townsend is happy with you too,” Rosalind said. “He’s become very fond of you.”
Fond, as if she were some pet, for his greatest love had been spent upon another woman while gossips laughed behind her back. All through the early weeks of their marriage she’d blamed herself for not being good enough, obedient enough, polished enough to earn his love. Not only that, he’d punished her more than once for the capital crime of dishonesty. Why, she’d been punished for neglecting to tell him she owned an exotic snake, while he’d neglected to tell her the entirety of their marriage was a vengeful, failed plot based on his adoration of another woman.
Worse, he’d told her he’d proposed to her because she’d been jilted by Lord Hobart. He’d framed his proposal as some great act of honor when he wasn’t an honorable person at all. If only she’d overheard this gossip about her marriage sooner. If only she hadn’t been such a fawning, believing idiot, such a pitiable fool.
With a twist in her stomach, her numb roil of feelings was replaced by searing anger. How dare he be so dishonest? So duplicitous? So selfish and uncaring? He’d kept his misdeeds a secret from her because admitting the truth might paint him in an unflattering light. Meanwhile, gossips giggled at how stupid she was…
“I must speak to him,” she said, her voice hard and shaking.
“No,” they both said at once.
“Not here,” pleaded Rosalind.
“Wait until you’ve calmed a little.” Elizabeth reached for her hand, but Jane was already leaving, propelled by fury.
“Look at what you’ve done,” she heard Rosalind say to Elizabeth as she stalked away, but Jane was grateful to her, for she finally understood what had been standing between the two of them in their marriage—a lack of honor, honesty, and truth.
Chapter Fifteen
Terribly Unfortunate
Townsend looked across the crowded ballroom. It was time to fetch Lady Wescott for the dance she’d promised him, the dance Wescott and his parents had encouraged him to request.
He didn’t wish to cause a stir, or draw attention from his sister and her husband on their anniversary, but it was important to show all the gossips that the great Wescott-Townsend feud was over, and that he was no longer enamored of Ophelia.