The Misplaced Husband, page 8
Jasper stared first at him, then at Opal—an Opal who appeared to have finally lost her equilibrium. Her cheeks were stained scarlet, her gaze refusing to meet his own.
Guilt.
Fierce anger rushed through Jasper’s body. What—had she been courted by this man, this Mr. King, whatever his name was? Was he wooing her, hoping to gain her affections—worse, had she…had she given herself to him?
Rage followed the anger, but Jasper attempted to force it down. It was not uncommon for widows to do such a thing, he knew, and Opal had been pretending to be a widow. Few would have blamed her if she truly had been without a husband.
Unsure precisely what he was doing, Jasper rose from his seat and stepped toward the man, who took a step back.
“Sadly, now is not particularly a good time,” Opal said hastily to her guest. “Why don’t you go and come again another—”
“No, no, stay, Mr. King, was it?” said Jasper breezily, his words belying the anger within.
Mr. King looked between them uncomfortably. “Yes, Mr. King, a friend of Mrs. de Petras. And…and you are, sir?”
Jasper smiled broadly. “Her husband.”
“Jasper, there is no need to be so rude!” Opal said in a hiss while Mr. King looked genuinely astonished. “And you are not my husband!”
“Like hell, I’m not,” he growled.
“Her…ah,” Mr. King said slowly, a flicker of discomfort on his face. “Well, that…that changes things a little, Mrs. de Petras.”
“I thought it would,” said Jasper, his smile broadening just as his irritation blossomed. First Micah, then Opal, and now this brute! “Thank you for calling, Mr. King.”
Stepping smartly past him and opening the door, Jasper grinned inanely at the man until he stepped through it. Then Jasper slammed the door and looked at Opal.
His breathing was rather jagged, something he only noticed now, and he was not sure how he was going to control himself.
The thought of anyone else touching Opal—she may be the matriarch of the family, but he was still her husband.
“You cannot just upend my life,” Opal said curtly with a glare.
Jasper almost growled. “I am your husband. I can do precisely that if I wish.”
But she was not cowed by his ill-temper. No, she laughed. Rising, Opal stepped toward him, eyes fierce.
“You are not my husband! You disappeared for years on end!” Opal pointed a finger. “Look!”
Stepping away from him, she moved to the bureau, rummaged around in it for a moment, then pulled out a newspaper. Jasper stared at it. What on earth could this be?
“Here,” she said, forcing it into his hands. “See!”
Jasper looked down at the newspaper. Why on earth she thought he would want to…
His heart stopped. It started again most painfully, every beat twisting his chest.
It was his obituary.
Jasper de Petras, born Jasper Barnes, declared dead today, April 1, 1794, after being misplaced by his family for seven years. A man in his prime, it was the great shock and surprise of his family friends that Mr. de Petras disappeared and despite many efforts to locate him, it has been judged likely that he is deceased. The owner of a shipyard that transported goods across Europe and even to the tips of Africa, Mr. de Petras is survived by his widow and their three children.
Jasper swallowed. It was almost worse than the death certificate. Seeing his entire life summed up in a few lines…nothing about his wit, his passions, his friendship. Nothing that truly described him…printed there in black ink on smudged white paper…
“We joked about writing our obituaries once, do you remember?”
Jasper looked up, hardly able to think, to see Opal smiling wryly. “When we had just been married. We…we talked about all the places we would go, the children we would have, the great salon you would host.”
She nodded. “I never thought I would actually have to write yours. Not…not yet.”
He swallowed. It had just been a jest, a joke between them. He could well remember it, lying there on the blanket in their garden in Bath. The sun had shone, and they could not imagine a world without each other.
He was not smiling now.
“I cannot believe it,” Jasper breathed, but then his chest tightened. “And I suppose this Mr. King of yours saw this and thought you were…available.”
The very thought turned his stomach. His wife…well, to him at least, his wife, available to other men?
“Well, do not be surprised if I have…have missed certain things, Jasper, and considered finding them elsewhere!”
If he had thought himself astonished before, it was nothing to how he felt now. Blood boiling, heart thundering, Jasper found himself rather uncomfortably…aroused.
She had missed him. She had missed his touch. Considered finding them elsewhere?
Closing the gap, Jasper said quietly, “Well, I have missed certain things, too, and I think it’s high time we made up for that!”
It did not take much to pull Opal into his arms, to place his lips on hers, and to taste the glory of her touch.
For a moment, a heart-stopping instant, it was just like old times. Wrapped together, their breath intermingled, the whole world centered on their embrace.
Then Opal pushed him away. “It is not that easy.”
“It could be.”
She looked at him, still in his arms, still part of him, and Jasper knew it was all coming together, just as he knew it would.
“We cannot continue like this for long,” he said softly. “You need to make a decision, and soon. If Lady Romeril hasn’t spread it across London—”
“You can be sure she has.”
“Then our children need to be protected,” Jasper said urgently. “We need to marry again, declare me alive, whatever it takes to be together!”
For a moment, he was certain she would agree—sure she understood. His heart leapt at the idea of once again being together, as they should.
“Tomorrow,” Opal whispered, her eyes on his, “when I am calmer, when I have had time to sleep…tomorrow, I need to hear it.”
Jasper swallowed. “It?”
She raised an eyebrow. “It. What you have been doing these last seven years. You need to tell me everything.”
Jasper released her and sighed heavily. “Yes, I do. A conversation that is long overdue.”
But before he left the room, he bowed his head and captured once again those teasing lips—lips he longed for.
Chapter Seven
April 25, 1794
As Opal slowly descended the staircase the following day, it was clear something powerful had changed within her. Something felt…different. Something strange. Something she could not put her finger on.
After being the only adult in the de Petras family for such a long time, Jasper’s reappearance had rather put her off-kilter, but she had thought she had adapted to that.
But no. This was different.
“Tomorrow, when I am calmer, when I have had time to sleep…tomorrow, I need to hear it.”
“It?”
“It. What you have been doing these last seven years. You need to tell me everything.”
“Yes, I do. A conversation that is long overdue.”
Opal swallowed as she reached the bottom of the staircase and she hesitated, waiting there as though she had arranged to meet him.
Which she hadn’t, of course. She had not exchanged a single word with the man after that final kiss. Jasper had not joined her for supper, and as the children had all eaten earlier, Opal had dined alone.
She was accustomed to dining alone. She had felt lonely at first, naturally, but over time she had started to relish the opportunity without the constant demands of children and running a household.
But yesterday…yesterday had been different. She had missed Jasper’s company.
Opal took a deep breath. It was guilt, that was all. She should not have acted so carelessly with Mr. King when he had been announced. She should certainly not have permitted Jasper to kiss her, to regain hope so quickly that she could forgive him, move past his nonsense, and remarry him within the month!
But today was a new day. Stepping forward, Opal opened the door into the breakfast room and stiffened. Jasper was seated there.
“Good morning,” Jasper said quietly, laying down his knife halfway through buttering a piece of toast. “You look lovely. Blue always suited you.”
Opal stared. He had always said that. When she had cried, that time they had been invited to a dinner just before her first confinement, saying that nothing fit her and nothing suited her, what had he said?
“Everything suits you,” Jasper had whispered, his arms around her in their bedchamber in Bath. “But you suit blue. Wear the blue gown.”
Jasper laughed gently. “My word, it does me good to see you confused once in a while.”
A smile crept across Opal’s mouth, unbidden yet unrestrained. Yes, she supposed it was good to be surprised, truly, every now and again. At least, on small occasions like this. She was not sure her heart could bear another vanishing act from the man she had taken as her husband all those years ago.
“Come on in,” said Jasper gently.
That was always the trouble, Opal thought as she stepped in and closed the door. Jasper always had that…that way of speaking to her. As though whispering to a horse, gently encouraging it to do what you wanted.
She did love him.
Jasper glanced at the maid who hovered at the sideboard, making sure the breakfast things were still hot. “That will be all, thank you, Molly.”
Bobbing a curtsey, Molly put down the serving forks and slipped out into the hallway, leaving them alone.
Taking a deep breath, Opal took a hesitant step forward but found she could not entirely reach the table. Not yet. Not without knowing precisely what this conversation was.
Stirring herself forward, Opal reached for a chair by the table, opposite Jasper, and pulled it out, and sat.
“I…I am not sure I am prepared to hear the full tale, but I know I must,” she said weakly.
“Nonsense,” said Jasper cheerfully, shaking his head as he picked up the teapot and poured it into a cup for her. “You are more than ready for it. You’re certainly due the truth.”
He placed a slice of lemon at the side, just how she liked it. Opal’s heart pattered strangely. He still remembered how she liked her tea. With the lemons that had surrounded her home when she had been a child.
Damn it all, Opal thought wryly. It would be so much easier to speak to this man if he were not so endearing.
“I was wrong.”
Opal blinked. Had she really heard those words come out of Jasper’s mouth?
Feeling the blaze of his gaze like a furnace, she leaned forward and picked up her tea. It was scalding, yes, but nothing like the temperature of Jasper’s expression.
“I was wrong to treat you like that yesterday,” said Jasper quietly, genuine contrition in his words. “Wrong to snap at your friend—”
“Acquaintance.” She did not want Jasper to have an incorrect view of the matter.
At least, the matter as it currently stood. If Jasper had returned home a few days later…
“Still. He was a guest, a guest in your home,” said Jasper heavily. “I should not have spoken so hastily.”
Opal swallowed a scalding mouthful of tea and said nothing. Why did her heart ache so hearing those words on his lips? Your home. Not our home, but her home.
“Just because I have the fortune,” Opal could remember saying to him in happier, more joyful times, “that does not mean this is not our home.”
She said nothing but sipped more tea. What could she say? Whenever she found herself in Jasper’s presence, particularly when it was the two of them alone, she was overcome with longing for what could have been. Longing to be touched by him. So why did she flee him at every opportunity?
“I was wrong,” said Jasper again. “I am sorry. I love you.”
Opal could not help but smile at that. “Was that not the advice the Earl of Maltravers gave you on our wedding day? The words that will always keep your wife happy?”
Jasper laughed with a rueful shake of his head. “Ah, if only it was that easy.”
His dark eyes found hers, and Opal melted right there at the table. It was foolish of her, but then what woman could help it?
He was a handsome man, a charming one at that. There was a reason why she had married him so quickly—fear had struck her heart when she had seen how other ladies had fawned over him, and she had panicked. Panicked she would lose him.
But she could not permit herself to simply fall apart just because a handsome man was before her.
“I admit, I am glad to start finding a rhythm to our lives,” Jasper said quietly. “Our family’s life. You all mean so much to me, Opal. I could not have survived the last few years without knowing you were all well—and safe.”
Opal’s heart twisted. Was that not all that she had wanted, for him, for herself? That they could be a family together, all five of them. After all the time apart, she now had a chance at that—a chance fate had thrown in her direction. And she was pushing him away. Why? Because he had hurt her?
“I said I would explain everything.”
Opal’s gaze sharpened.
Jasper put up his hands in mock surrender. “Do not worry, there is nothing in my tale to fear. I merely wished to reiterate that I…I should not force you to move quicker than you are comfortable. In truth, I think the children have managed this whole situation better than either of us.”
Opal sighed and nodded. “Agreed.”
They fell into companionable silence for a while. Jasper returned to buttering his toast, and Opal sipped her tea.
The children were out with their governess, and she had no visiting planned for that morning. Would there be a better chance than this? And he had been patient. At least, Opal thought with a smile, as patient as a man was ever going to be.
She took a deep breath and said the words she knew she must say. “Look, Jasper.”
“Yes?” he said quickly, dropping his toast to his plate.
Opal tried not to laugh. This was a serious moment, and she should at least attempt to treat it that way. “Do not get too excited, I am not about to propose we marry again. It is still…I am still mightily upset that you went missing.”
“I know,” Jasper said quietly. “And I—”
She raised a hand, knowing she could not continue if continuously interrupted—a habit he clearly had not yet managed to break. Jasper nodded, clasping his hands before him on the table. He was ready to sit and listen, a minor miracle.
Now all Opal had to do was think of what to say.
“You…you hurt me deeply, Jasper,” she said bluntly. “More deeply, I think, than you can possibly know. The idea of just stepping into our marriage again, even for the sake of the children…I cannot do it immediately. I must write to Mr. Cleland.”
Why did it hurt so much to be this vulnerable? Opal could feel her heart growing heavier with each word she said as the pain she had buried for so long was brought to the surface.
But it was impossible not to speak. Not now she was sure, almost certain, that Jasper truly wished to make amends. To make this marriage, such that it was, work.
“Because I want to…I want to heal,” admitted Opal wistfully, smiling slightly as she caught Jasper’s gaze. “I want to heal this family, find a way to be together again, whole, not just in body but in spirit. We…we cannot go on like this.”
Jasper nodded eagerly. He really did adore her. There was something so intensively flattering about being adored. One could get used to it.
Opal sighed, then tried to bring briskness to her voice. “Well then. Let us talk about it. You left seven years ago, and you returned last month. Why?”
Jasper unclasped his hands. Opal instinctively removed her own from the table, certain he was about to take her hands in his, but to her surprise—and slight disappointment—he did not reach for her.
Instead, he reached into his waistcoat pocket and removed what appeared to be a bundle of letters.
“Here,” Jasper said quietly.
With slightly shaking hands, Opal reached out for the letters. Letters which she was sure would contain secrets, secrets hidden from her, purposefully, for years.
But when she unfolded them, placing them one after another on the table, it was to see to her surprise that they were not correspondence as such…but threats. In large, sprawling letters, Opal read:
Leave your whore wife, or we will kill her.
She picked up another.
Your children are not your own, and you had better abandon them now.
A third was just as repellent.
We could have taken your son today. Leave your family, or we will do worse tomorrow.
Opal saw rage in Jasper’s eyes, his gaze was firmly set on the papers between them. She pulled out another.
Opal the whore deserves the terror in France, and unless you depart from your family, we will kidnap her and take her back there. Death to de Petras.
Opal swallowed. It was worse than she could have ever imagined. Who could hate her so entirely as to send such vile missives?
“This is ridiculous,” she found herself saying. “For a start, I am Italian!”
Jasper sighed and shook his head, fingers poking at the letters as though unable to let them rest. “You think that matters to these people? You think they care? Von Bachmann, de Choiseul-Stainville, the Comte de Custine, all nobles in France who believed themselves protected, yet all went to the gallows.”
Opal looked at the letters once more. Over and over again, the hatred, the vitriol towards her and her family. And the demands that Jasper leave them. Why? Who could have done such a thing?
“There was absolutely no chance that I was going to risk it,” said Jasper quietly, and Opal saw the pain in his eyes. “Lose you? Lose the children, merely because I could not bear to leave you?”
“But this is a trick, surely, a jest, a terrible prank!” Opal said, hardly able to believe that anyone, let alone someone she knew, could write such things.
