Chapter 8

CHAPTER8

Jane was hungry. She could hear her stomach growl violently, tugging at her insides. She had not eaten since that morning. Even during the wedding breakfast, she just had a few bites—nothing to sustain her properly for the afternoon, let alone an entire day.

But she would rather die than open the door to her chamber and show her face in this home. Tomorrow… perhaps. When the hunger became unbearable. Not today. Not under any circumstances.

That was, at least, what her mind was telling her. Her stomach, on the other hand, had a different agenda. It tried to force her to go downstairs, and at least ask for a plate of some food from the cook or any of the servants. But then, if she did that, they would know that something was amiss. No one was supposed to know. This meant that she would need to keep her secret and her hunger under control.

This morning, Jane was on the verge of tears. That was why she would not dare look at her father in the eyes. That was why she embraced her mother so tenderly right at that moment when it all became a reality, when her parents were truly leaving her behind in this new place which was to be her home for the next several months.

The Duke of Dunton was right. She could not leave him and go live in some other home so quickly after their marriage. People would talk. And usually, when people talked, they did not have anything nice to say. The purpose of their marriage was to merge the breweries and make it into a lucrative business again. She could not allow the ton to ruin that endeavor right at the onset.

The Duke of Dunton. His title echoed in her mind. She knew that she could not address him as such any longer. She would never call him any endearing names. That would be ludicrous. But… could she address him by his name?

Leonard. Leo.

She liked the sound of that. Leo. It would just roll off her lips so effortlessly. Everything about him was handsomely effortless. She could not think of any other man who was so poised and, at the same time, who was so utterly displeasing.

She had to admit that his behavior during the wedding ceremony and the wedding breakfast was unusual. He was mostly quiet. He did not voice his opinion once, nor was he interested in discussing the business side of their marriage in front of their families. She appreciated that. He, at least, valued her opinion enough to ask her about it directly. He did not ask her father whether it was a good idea for her to stay here with him. He asked her.

She quickly banished that thought from her head because it led to trouble. It led to her thinking that the Duke of Dunton wasn’t such a despicable character after all while he most certainly was. The fact that he showed decency once in a blue moon was not a redeeming quality. Not at all.

Her stomach rumbled again, much more loudly this time, reminding her that she would probably not be able to sleep all night. She scolded herself for not hiding a scone or at least a piece of toast in her hands or anywhere underneath her gown, no matter how silly that sounded, so she could take it up to her chamber for a snack later on. She wasn’t thinking about that. She was just thinking about how she would hide away from the Duke and his mother.

Now, she was still hiding, but her hunger was become more and more unbearable. She sighed to herself as she walked over to the window, mostly to distract herself. As soon as she opened it, the crisp night air permeated her room, bringing forth with it a touch of nightly chill, despite the fact that it was the middle of the summer.

She closed her eyes. Her first night away from her home. She was alone, afraid, and hungry, something she never thought she would be feeling as the daughter of an Earl. The amalgamation of these emotions was unbearable. Once again, overwhelmed, she was on the brink of tears. She tried to blink them away, and for a moment, she believed she managed to achieve this goal. But then, she felt them slide down her cheeks slowly, reminding her that just because she thought they were gone, it wasn’t necessarily so.

She wiped them with the sleeve of her gown, the buttons around her wrist gently scraping at her skin. She made sure to wear long sleeves. The bruise was no longer purple, but it had taken on a greenish hue, even more visible now than before. She was ashamed of it. She didn’t want anyone to see it. She didn’t want to have to explain it to anyone.

Perhaps now, it was safe to change into her nightgown and go to sleep. At least try to. She walked over to her wardrobe and took out her nightgown. Slowly, she unbuttoned her gown and let it slide down her body. The room was becoming chillier with each passing moment. She needed to remember to close the window before she retired to bed. She quickly put on her nightgown, tying a small ribbon around her waist. She didn’t like the fact that it had short sleeves. She didn’t want to look at her bruise, but she thought she would crawl under the blankets immediately and forget about everything. The bruise, the wedding, her life.

Just as she believed she had managed to calm herself down a little, she heard a knock on the door. Her heart skipped a beat, making her gasp softly. She could pretend that she wasn’t there, just like she could close her eyes and pretend that she was home. That would still not make it true. She was only lying to herself.

Sighing heavily, she turned around and started walking slowly towards the door as if someone was pointing a gun to her head.

* * *

Leo had no idea what he was doing with this plate of food in his hand. He wasn’t supposed to be here at all. What on earth was he thinking?

But then… just as he was about to turn around and walk away, the door opened. His eyes befell Jane, a stunning vision in white, like a most beautifully haunting dream. Their eyes locked. Her dark eyelashes fluttered at him, beckoning him to remain on them.

He couldn’t. His gaze traversed the distance between her eyes and her delicate swan-like neck. Then, it continued lowered, over the soft, almost transparent fabric of her nightgown and her plump, round breasts that rose underneath it. Her nipples pebbled, threatening to tear the delicate fabric. The sight drove him mad with desire.

But then, he saw it. A stain on that pristine, pale flesh, the likes of which should never be found on someone so delicate, so tender, so beautiful.

“What are you doing here?” she asked in a whisper.

He ignored her question, his eyes stuck to the painful patch of greenery.

“Who did this to you?” he demanded, his eyes darkening with rage.

She looked down at her hand then quickly pulled it away, hiding it behind her back. He waited for her to reply, but she didn’t. Instead, she bit her lower lip as if to purposely prevent herself from revealing who did that to her. The thought of her hiding the identity of the brute enraged him even more. Why would she do that?

Then, the moment her eyes sparkled as if something inside of her would break, he knew. He understood the lack of affection between her father and her, the avoidance, the unwillingness to talk or even look at each other—it had to be him.

“Was it your father?” he asked more softly than the first time.

She remained silent for the second time. He wanted her confirmation, but he knew that he couldn’t force it out of her because then, he would be no different than that brute who believed that he would get his way with sheer force. Leo could never understand such people, who used their obvious physical supremacy to force others into subordination.

She was trembling now. He could feel the chilly air come from her room. She must have had her window open. The room faced the north, so it was usually cold during the nights, even in the summer. He didn’t want to keep her here in the doorway to make her catch a cold, but he couldn’t leave without making sure that she knew one very important thing.

“Jane…” he said her name as softly as he could. “I will see to it that no one touches you ever again, do you hear me?”

Once again, silence on her part. That look that almost broke his heart, a heart he wasn’t even sure he had. He realized that he himself was shaking but not because he was cold. He was furious. He felt like punching a wall just to get it all out of himself. But that would only frighten her, make her believe that he could not control his temper. That wasn’t who he was.

“Here,” he said instead, offering her the plate with lamb chops sautéedwith asparagus, peas, and mushrooms. “You haven’t eaten all day. You must be hungry.”

This time, her lips moved. “Thank you,” she whispered, barely audibly. If he hadn’t been looking at her lips while she was talking, he wouldn’t even know she had said anything.

She accepted the plate with both hands, her fingers clutching at her edges. There was more he wanted to say, to assure her of, but this wasn’t the right moment for any of that. He tried not to look at her bruise which she wasn’t hiding anymore.

“I hope to see you at breakfast tomorrow,” he said a little awkwardly then quickly added, “Good night.”

He bowed respectfully, unable to hear whether she returned the greeting. But the moment he lifted his gaze, the door was closed, and she was gone. His heart was beating wildly. He had no idea why the thought of someone putting their hands on her shook him so much. He was furious. He was out of his mind with rage, with the desire to return this favor tenfold to the man who did it. Her father.

But he knew it was not his place. Not yet, at least. He would say nothing to the man for what he had just seen, but if there should be more… The very though made him shiver.

No. He would not allow a single additional bruise to appear on that delicate flesh. He made a promise, and he had every intention of keeping it.