“Yes.” He stood, tucking his hands behind his back.
Jane looked at the posture and tilted her head in consideration. “Are you angry with me?”
“What? No.” He looked down, seeming to recognise his posture and what he had told her about it. “No. It became a habit to stand this way always, so that it did not give me away when I needed it.”
“Herr Scholes.… He said you were angry all the time when you came to him.”
Vincent gave a cheerless smile. “Why do you think I learned to work such shapeless glamours when I was discomfited? No fine control.”
And what could she say to that? He had once kept his past as the Honourable Vincent Hamilton entirely separate from his life as Sir David Vincent. She had long understood why he kept such a rigid wall around that former life, and she had respected the boundary. The fact that he now trusted her behind that wall was a sign of how much their marriage had strengthened, and yet, every glimpse of Vincent’s history made Jane ache for him.
As they dressed, the black of Jane’s mourning clothes seemed to make a mock of their situation. She clenched her jaw against anger, starting to have some understanding of why Vincent had learned to stand with his hands behind his back. While growing up, Jane had had little to vex her beyond the frustrations of being a plain girl with a very pretty sister. Those old cares seemed trivial now, and she was ashamed of herself for having ever been put out by such a trifling thing. She shoved her gown into their small case with more force than strictly required.
Vincent cleared his throat. “Have I ever told you that you frighten me a little when you are angry?”
“Forgive me. It is not directed at you.”
“I know. You are still a force of nature when disturbed.”
She closed the case, taking care not to slam it. “Well, let us hope that I have no reason to—”
A knock sounded at the door. Both of them stiffened, staring at it, until Vincent relaxed and murmured, “He would not knock.” Raising his voice, he called, “Enter.”
Frank opened the door, stepping into their room. “My apologies. Zeus has just returned from town. The Marchioness of Salisbury left with the tide this morning.”
Jane had fully expected Vincent to curse. Instead, he picked up the paper and folded it into a narrow roll. “I see. And when is the next ship bound for England?”
“It may be a month or more, I am afraid.”
“A month!” Jane frowned, shaking her head. “But Ibrahim told us that packet ships call every two weeks.”
“That is correct, but they do not all return directly to England.”
“But there were so many other ships at the port.”
“I am afraid that none of them are bound for England.” He tilted his head, considering. “You could take the Lady Arabella, which departs in three days, but it is going to Portugal. You would have to make your way back to England from there.”
Vincent twisted the paper around, likely doing the same math that Jane was. A month sailing and then another month from Portugal to England … It would take as long as waiting a month in Antigua and then sailing directly, but with a more arduous trip. Given her history, that seemed imprudent, even to Jane. “What about lodgings in St. John’s? Could you arrange for a place for us to stay until the next British bound ship?”
“Yes.…” Frank wet his lips and eased the door shut. “However, may I ask you to reconsider your departure? While I understand your wish, the great house is large, and Lord Verbury does not leave his rooms.”
“I am afraid remaining here is not possible.”
“For my own benefit, may I ask you not to go?” Frank turned his attention from Jane to Vincent. “There are serious issues with the estate, as I am certain you saw on your way in. I have charge only over the great house and grounds, but can see what is happening with the rest of the estate. I have concerns that the overseer—” He cleared his throat. “While his lordship was in good health, matters ran smoothly. However, Lord Verbury’s stroke has put the estate heavily into Mr. Pridmore’s hands.”
“I commend your concern for the rest of the estate, but this does not require my presence.” Vincent’s voice was coolly aristocratic. “Once my father is removed, then I will recommend to my brother that he replace the overseer. Will you arrange for the carriage?”
Frank stared at him, expression guarded. Then he shook his head. “I cannot allow you to go.”
“Pardon?” Vincent tilted his head. “You cannot allow us? Cannot allow?”
“That is correct.”
“I think your time managing the house has led to a misapprehension of your circumstances—”