“I am not surprised. You handled yourself well in the moment of discovery.”
“The irony is that we may thank my father for what control I had. Years of training in governing one’s expression under duress. Like so—” He shifted his posture, standing once again in that painfully correct manner, with his hands clasped behind him and his chin tucked into his tall collar. “My hands shake when I am angry, so this posture hides that. With my chin down, the collar masks that I am clenching my jaw. Also, it makes it easier to sneer, which is greatly prized.”
“I had no idea so much thought went into your deportment.”
“And the way I walk, my speech, my handwriting.… There is little about me that did not receive corrective training.” Vincent grimaced. “Muse … sometimes my first instinct comes from him. I am shaken enough that you may see a side of me that I dislike. Vehemently.”
“Is there anything I can do for you? Patience I have in abundance, but if there is anything more than that…”
He stared into the growing darkness. After a moment, he shook his head. “Thank you. Having you here is a comfort, though at the same time, if I had known my father was alive I would never have permitted you to come.”
“Then we are well matched, as I would not have permitted you to come, either.”
He gave something like a laugh. “I wish there were a moon tonight so we could leave now. It is too dark for the road to be safe.”
“Oh, thank God.” Jane sagged against the rail. “I was afraid you would insist on staying here to see things through out of some misplaced sense of duty.”
“If I were not terrified of what he will do when he finds out that you are with child—and he will find out; you are right about that—perhaps I would. As it is, I propose that we return to England, expose my father’s fraud, and leave the entire thing in someone else’s hands.”
“That sounds entirely sensible.”
He compressed his lips in his small private smile and held a hand out to her. Biting back a sob of relief, Jane took his hand. She had not been certain how long he would keep her at a distance. She slid into the warmth of his embrace and leaned against her husband as the last rays of the sun sank behind the horizon.
Vincent kissed her on the forehead. “Thank you, Muse.”
“For?”
“Only thank you.”
*
When Jane awoke in the morning, she was alone. The sheets beside her were cool, so Vincent must have arisen some time earlier. The sheer lawn curtains had been tucked back under the mattress to protect her from mosquitoes, and they fogged her view of the room. She pushed them aside to slip out of bed. The room was astonishingly cool given how warm the day had been. That might have been due to the door to the veranda standing open.
Jane pulled her shawl from where it hung over a chair and went to the door. The veranda was in shadow, but the air had already begun to acquire a certain muggy warmth. She had fully expected to find Vincent engaged with working a massive glamour and was a little relieved to find him sitting quietly with a newspaper. He had a wicker chair that she did not think had been there the night prior, and he sat with his feet up on the rail. He was still in his nightshirt, with only a banyan robe wrapped around him for modesty.
“Did you sleep at all?”
Vincent shook his head, and then lowered the paper. “Did I wake you?”
“No. Thank you.”
“How are you this morning?”
Jane opened her mouth to reply and stopped. She had not a trace of nausea. “I feel quite fit, actually. Perhaps I was merely seasick after all.”
Vincent raised a brow and looked pointedly at her stomach. Though the fullness of a day dress still obscured her figure, in nothing but a shift, it was obvious that Jane was increasing. He cleared his throat, lowering his feet. “I am glad you are better. Frank has sent someone ahead to reserve a place on the Marchioness of Salisbury. Although … if the ship’s motion makes you ill, I wonder if it is advisable to travel in your condition.”
“Vincent, I am not staying here a moment longer than it will take me to dress.”
“Not here. Clearly. But we could stay in town until after your confinement, and—”
“No.”
“Jane, I am only thinking of your health, and—”
“No. First of all, my health will be best if I am near my family. Second, and more significantly, you are not staying anywhere near that man. He was here for close to a year before the stroke and yet had not been removed to England to face trial.” She almost stopped, seeing his face grow pale, but felt the need to make it clear to him why they could not stay. “Meaning that someone is in his debt here. But in England, he is very much out of favour. Let this be someone else’s concern.”
Vincent lowered his gaze and folded the newspaper in half. “You are right, of course.” He folded the paper in half again, smoothing the crease. “Of course. I should know that better than you.”
“Shall we dress?”