55. Chapter 55

Chapter 55

Jethro chose to work in his study the next day, rather than going to the warehouse. Though he told himself there was nothing unusual about that, deep down, he knew his true motives. He wanted to be at home if the curate called.

He had been so sure Cassandra’s feelings for Mr Barnes had faded. Even that she felt something for her husband.

But all his fears had returned with a vengeance when he had seen the way Cassandra’s entire face had lit up when she had mentioned consulting the curate the day before. As if she delighted in having an innocent reason for talking to him.

Although he hated himself for doubting his wife, Jethro would not be played the fool. He would throw Barnes out of his house himself if he found the least cause to do so.

He left his study door ajar, and it was not long after breakfast that he heard voices in the hallway announcing the arrival of visitors. His body tensed as he recognised the curate’s mellow tones.

He consulted his pocket watch. Too early for a regular morning call. Mr Barnes must have come at his wife’s request. But if that was so, why hadn’t she told him about it—or was the visit less innocent than it looked?

As the sound of voices died down, Jethro’s legs carried him into the entrance hall of their own volition. The butler was just closing the door of the drawing room behind the curate, but Jethro stayed his arm and dismissed him.

Rowson disappeared about his duties and Jethro pushed the door open a little further, intending to enter, but he froze where he was as he overheard the conversation taking place within.

Jethro knew he should either join them or retreat, but he stood, rooted to the spot. He had to hear what they were saying. He had to know the worst.

Heaven help him if any of the servants caught him eavesdropping.

Mr Barnes was speaking. “I came as soon as I could get away. You said it was urgent. What is it that concerns you?”

There was a noticeable pause before Cassandra spoke.

“It is my brother.”

“Alexander seems to be recovering well from his injuries from what I could see in church on Sunday. Rather pale and withdrawn, but that’s only to be expected after what he’s been through.”

“But he’s so quiet, Gilbert.”

Jethro flinched at hearing his wife address the curate in such an intimate manner.

“Give him time, Cassandra.”

He flinched again and balled his right hand into a fist. With a supreme effort, he relaxed his fingers, one by one. He could not call Mr Barnes out for using his wife’s Christian name, if she had given him permission to do so.

“It is a hard thing to have your dreams ripped away from you, as I know only too well.”

“Oh, Gilbert. I’m so sorry—”

Jethro felt sick when he heard the heartbreak in Cassandra’s voice. Was she squeezing his hand? Looking into his face with those deep blue eyes of hers?

“It’s not your fault.”

There was another long pause, and Jethro almost burst into the room, but something stayed his feet. He was scared—scared of what he might find. Petrified he would see love in Cassandra’s expression as she looked at Mr Barnes, and what that meant to him. That he had no chance of winning his wife’s heart and he had lost her forever.

Unable to move, he continued to listen at the door.

“Cassandra, I know you too well for you to hide it from me—you’re afraid. Why? ”

“I told you, I’m worried about Xander. I was hoping you could talk to him.”

Hmm. That didn’t ring true. Yes, she was concerned, but they’d talked about Alexander only the day before, and she’d not seemed the least bit afraid then, though she had been more than a little put out that her brother had accepted Mr Wade’s invitation.

Cassandra wasn’t being honest with Mr Barnes. She was evading his question. That made Jethro feel somewhat better.

“There’s a dinner party coming up,” she blurted out. “An important meeting with a business contact of Jethro’s. The man insisted we invite Alexander, and he said yes.”

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it? If your brother is willing to go into company?”

“No! It’s terrible. Eugenia Frampton will be there, and he told me he wants to talk to her. You know what happened the last time they met. It was dreadful. I can’t stand the thought of that woman hurting him again.”

“Cassandra, is that what you truly fear? Forgive me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think you’re afraid for your brother. Concerned, yes, but that isn’t the real reason you’re so distressed, is it?”

There was a long silence, and she spoke the next words so quietly that Jethro only just caught them.

“It’s my husband. I’m so afraid—”

Jethro staggered away from where he’d been standing as if he had been pushed. She was afraid—of him? When had he ever given his wife reason to fear him?

Somehow, he made his way back to his study, shut the door, and flopped into his chair.

He had failed her. He had promised to care for her, and he had let her down.

Cassandra was afraid, and she had gone to Mr Barnes for protection—from him.

He couldn’t blame her for preferring the curate’s gentle manners to his own unpredictable temperament. But did that mean she still had feelings for the man?

As the old jealousy threatened to resurface, Jethro prayed for help to master it.

Cassandra deserved better than this.