16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Jethro struggled to keep the polite smile on his face. What was a man of the cloth doing, sitting alone with his wife, seducing her with his smooth words, tempting her with his sympathetic eyes?

Why did Cassandra need his sympathy anyway? Jethro had put a roof over her head, hadn’t he? Provided her with enough pin money to replenish her wardrobe three times over. Saved her from penury.

If the curate was in love with her, why hadn’t he stepped forward when Cassandra needed rescuing?

Jethro held the drawing room door open for Mr Barnes and followed him into the hall. It didn’t matter what the man felt. It was too late for him now. Cassandra had made her choice and married him.

He wished he had not absented himself from the drawing room. He should have been with his wife, sat at her side. That man would not have talked to her in such a familiar way if he had been there.

He wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

The footman was hovering by the front door, waiting to open it for their guest. With a nod, Jethro dismissed him. “I’ll see Mr Barnes out myself.”

Once the servant was out of earshot, Jethro turned to address the curate. “I hope you had an enjoyable visit with my wife.”

The man’s expression was guarded. Was he feeling guilty for what he’d said to Cassandra ?

“I did, thank you. It is always pleasant to chat with old friends.”

If only Jethro could be certain they were just friends. “You have known my wife long?”

“About three years. Since I first became curate to her father.”

“Was she confiding the state of her heart to you?”

Mr Barnes stiffened. “I’m not sure what you mean by that.”

“I wish to assure myself that you would not take advantage of your position as a clergyman to discover my wife’s feelings.”

“Mr Hunt, I receive many confidences, and am a willing ear if a parishioner wishes to unburden themselves, but nothing more. I do not pry into the secrets of another’s heart.”

“But you listen.”

“It is part of my role as a minister of the Lord.”

“And I trust that your devotion to the Lord would prevent you from acting on what you learn.”

“It would.”

“Then I don’t need to warn you to stay away from my wife?”

The curate’s face flushed red, and Jethro wondered if he had overstepped the mark. Could he have misinterpreted what he’d heard?

“I do not care for your meaning. I would never encourage another to break their wedding vows, however hastily they were said.”

“I may have married in haste, but I do not regret it. Our circumstances were complicated. Speed was the only option.”

“If Mrs Hunt is happy, I shall be well satisfied that I did a noble thing when I tied the two of you together in holy matrimony, however my heart misgave me.”

A fresh flood of irritation coursed through Jethro. How dare the man stand there, in his house, and coolly tell him he had not wanted to perform the ceremony?

“I wish my wife to be happy too—with the man she married, not another.”

Mr Barnes huffed and shook his head at Jethro, his eyes full of pity. “Do you know your wife so little? She would no more break her marriage vows than I would encourage her to do so. I have the utmost respect for Mrs Hunt. She is one of the kindest, sweetest ladies of my acquaintance, and was a pillar of strength when circumstances did not work out as we had both hoped.”

Jethro’s chest constricted, and for a moment, he struggled to breathe. As we had both hoped . Was it then as he feared? Mr Barnes had as good as admitted it. They were in love with each other, but could not wed .

Unable to marry the man of her choice, Cassandra had settled for Jethro. No wonder she had agreed to his businesslike proposal. Her heart was engaged elsewhere.

Jethro inhaled deeply, forcing his breathing back into a regular rhythm, as he tried to calm the disquiet that this revelation conjured.

“I wish you no harm, Mr Barnes, but please do not unsettle my wife by causing her to question her allegiance. Her loyalty is to me—her husband. Don’t make me doubt it.”

“I would never stand between a man and his wife, but—”

“Good day, Mr Barnes.”

Jethro shut the door behind him. He wished he could keep the door permanently closed against the man.

Mr Barnes had confessed his heart was in Weymouth, and he would not leave—and Cassandra had been relieved.

Her words pierced Jethro’s pride. Another stands in the place that should have been yours.

Why hadn’t he thought to ask her whether she had a prior attachment? He had plunged in, seeking a wife for his own reasons, all the time believing he was saving her as well as himself.

But if her heart belonged to another, he had not saved her. He had condemned her to a life separated forever from the man she loved.

Jethro had never suffered from a romantic disposition, so he had not thought it necessary to be in love with Cassandra in order to marry her.

And he had known she did not love him. So why did it matter now?

Why did it make him feel so empty to discover she had feelings for someone else? Was he secretly harbouring a hope that one day she would fall in love with him?

Perhaps their marriage of convenience wasn’t so convenient after all.

Jethro gave himself a shake. When had he become so sentimental? He must have been spending too much time with Crowley. His friend’s ideas were rubbing off on him.

It wasn’t love that was the issue, but loyalty, and he intended to confront Cassandra with what she’d said. But when he reached the door of the drawing room, he hesitated, and returned to his study.

Jethro couldn’t face her. Not now. He might say something they would both regret.