“It’s best if I go. Send word if you need me.”
“I will.” Except the sad truth was that now the man she loved was here, Garson, for all his many marvelous qualities, had become irrelevant.
Love was a ruthless master.
He bowed again and left, the last guest to go.
She supposed she could approach Robert, insist on taking her place beside him. She was his wife, after all. But something about his rigid stance kept her marooned where she was. She’d barely shifted from where she’d stood when Silas had made the heartfelt speech about welcoming his good friend Lord Garson into the family. If Caro hadn’t been holding her arm, she’d have felt alone indeed.
Morwenna had always imagined that if the unbelievable happened and Robert came back, she’d launch herself into his arms without a second thought. But Robert in her fantasies had been the charmer she’d married. An invisible wall surrounded this austere revenant. At least as far as his wife was concerned.
Which didn’t stop her longing to touch him to prove he was real, the way someone perishing of thirst burned for a drop of water.
Through the ocean of conflicting emotions engulfing her, she drank in the details of his appearance. His hair was too long, and ragged with a bad cut. Whiskers shadowed his jaw. This, too, was familiar. He’d always had a vigorous beard.
“This calls for a celebration indeed.” Silas signaled to the butler. “Champagne, Hunter.”
Ignoring her half-hearted resistance, Caro drew Morwenna forward. Robert showed no reaction to his wife coming to stand a foot away from him. A chill ran up her spine, and she shivered.
Caro noticed and mouthed the word “courage.” Then she released Morwenna and laid a hand on Silas’s arm. “Perhaps we should save our carousing until tomorrow, darling. This has been the most wonderful night, and we all have so much to find out. But it’s late, and Robert looks ready to drop where he stands.”
“But...” Amy protested, then subsided into silence under Caro’s repressive look.
“I’ll bring you here for breakfast, sweetheart,” Pascal said. “You won’t miss anything, I promise.”
“If I must wait, I must,” Amy said grudgingly. She gave Robert another hug, not appearing to note his tepid response. “Good night, Rob. I’m so glad you’re back.”
Silas turned to the butler. “Hunter, forget the champagne. Instead, please prepare a room for Captain Nash.”
Robert frowned at his brother. Was Morwenna the only person attuned to the subtle parade of emotions on his face? Had anyone else seen the way those tense, straight shoulders under their ill-fitting coat had eased when Caro suggested leaving explanations until the morning?
“The blue chamber,” Caro said.
Robert swallowed, then spoke. He’d been taciturn in the extreme since coming in. Another change from his former self. “No.”
“You’d prefer a different room? Or have you already arranged lodgings?” Silas asked. “Please say you’ll sleep here. Otherwise I’ll wake up and decide I dreamed that you’re back.”
Robert spoke again, slowly as though each word emerged after he’d dredged it out of the depths. “My place is with my wife.”
Morwenna stiffened and stared at him in consternation. Another shiver rippled through her, this one made up of sheer alarm. Heaven help her. Did he mean to chastise her tonight, before she’d had a chance to come to terms with his arrival? She already felt on the verge of shattering. Defending herself to an angry husband asked too much of her right now.
Caro cast Morwenna a concerned glance. “Robert, perhaps it might be better if...”
Stubbornly Robert shook his coal-black head. “No.”
Silas sent her a worried look. “Morwenna?”
Of course he was worried about her. Nobody knew better than he how she’d grieved. He’d been delighted when she’d accepted Sally, Lady Norwood’s invitation to come to London this season to rejoin society and play a Dashing Widow. He’d never been insensitive enough to tell her to take up her life again, but his pleasure in her social success was clear. As clear as his approval of her engagement to Garson.
“Of course.” She forced leaden legs to bring her closer to Robert. She’d never been more aware of how little time she and her husband had spent alone together, and the abyss now yawning between them.
>
Robert’s expression didn’t change, and he didn’t look at her. What happened now? Should she take his arm and show him the way to her room? Did he want her to touch him? She’d quickly guessed that during his absence, he’d become uncomfortable with physical contact.
His hand, tanned, scarred and unfamiliar, snaked out to curl around her wrist. The first time he’d touched her in five years.
Even through her satin glove, she felt the heat. When she jumped, he cast her a narrow-eyed look and tightened his grip. For so long, she’d ached for his touch, but this ruthless hold made her feel like a dog on a tight leash.