Jane watched Hugh and Silas return to the ballroom. Her husband always danced the second waltz with her, and whenever he did, it only sharpened her heartbreak. Every time he touched her, she thought she must crack with the force of the titanic feelings she struggled to contain.

She’d spent her life longing for a London season. Now here she was, popular beyond her wildest dreams, and she hated every moment of it.

Because the man she loved didn’t love her.

She suspected Hugh was as unhappy as she was. The stiff set to his broad shoulders hinted that his casual manner was as artificial as her endless sparkle. She supposed she could ask him, but these days they only spoke about trivial matters. That was her fault, she admitted. She couldn’t risk a deeper discussion, for fear that she might reveal too much.

But the strain of keeping up a constant façade was telling on her. The pretense—to Hugh and to the world—that she was blissfully happy was draining every ounce of vitality. She felt like she was nothing but a dried-out husk. How much longer could she continue? Pride was all that sustained her, and it grew more tattered by the day.

Hugh bowed to her. “My dance, I believe.”

“I wondered if you remembered.” She took his arm and let him lead her onto the crowded floor. “I looked for you and couldn’t find you.”

They turned to face one another. He looked exceedingly handsome in his evening clothes, the crisp black and white setting off his chiseled features. Somehow that just made Jane feel worse. He was so fine inside and out, and having to live without his love was a constant torment.

“I’ll always remember you,” he said. The gentle words only increased the weight of misery pressing down on her heart. He cared about her, she knew he did. But it wasn’t enough. “I was talking to Silas in the library.”

She sniffed and tried to sound teasing. “And drinking Anthony’s brandy.”

He smiled, but compared to the smiles he’d once given her, this was a mechanical effort. “It’s too good to pass up.”

The violins took up a lilting melody. Hugh’s arm curled around her waist, and his gloved hand caught hers. She set her other hand on his shoulder and started to move in time with him.

Once, his touch had been paradise. No more. It only reminded Jane of what she couldn’t have. Oh, how she hated her stupid heart for wanting more than he could give her. She wished she could rip it out and go on without it.

Still, she must endure. They were in public, and she owed Hugh an appearance of amity. She lifted her head and fixed a smile to her lips. Most nights by the time she went home, her jaw ached with smiling, when all she wanted to do was crawl away into the dark and cry.

Jane tried to lose herself in the swirling movement, to recapture some of their earlier ease with one another, but it was impossible. She was too aware of his hands on her and how he cursed the fate that placed his wife in his arms and not Morwenna.

“You’re very quiet,” he said, after a while.

Her feet naturally followed his, without her having to think about it. After all, he’d been her first dance partner. Warily she glanced up at him. “I’m a little weary.”

A little weary? The effort of hiding her feelings, not to mention all the late nights, and the endless tossing and turning when she finally got to bed, left her feeling like a wrung-out rag.

“Jane,” he said, and the edge in his voice alerted her that for once, this wouldn’t be some polite banality, “would you like to go up to Derbyshire? There’s nothing to keep us in London. Not really. You haven’t seen the house in years, and it’s beautiful there with spring coming on.” He paused, then went on with an urgent sincerity, that made her heart cramp. “We could spend some time alone together, away from all this flummery.”

Oh, God, give her strength. The last thing she wanted was to be alone with Hugh. But on the other hand, she was reaching her limits as the queen of society.

She swallowed to moisten a dry mouth and said in a low tone, “Let me think about it.”

“Please do.” His grip on her waist tightened. “I want to have you to myself again. I want what we found in Salisbury.”

“We’ve still got that,” she said, knowing it was a lie. “You share my bed every night.”

And she could hardly bear it. Because the desire between them, however powerful, was a mere counterfeit of what she really wanted.

She could never have what she really wanted.

He frowned, and regret sliced her heart when she saw his disappointment. “Yes,” he said, not sounding convinced. “Think about Derbyshire. A few weeks in the country would do you good.”

While she was convinced that a few weeks in the country would dissolve the threadbare truce that kept her marriage together.

But Hugh was right. The way they went on was untenable. She rapidly ran short of both pride and endurance. Something had to change—and if change meant utter destruction, right now, she almost welcomed that.

Her touch on the back of his neck was tender with unspoken love, all the more poignant for being forbidden. “Yes, let’s talk about it tomorrow.”

“Lady Garson, your ladyship.”

As Jane stepped into Fenella’s airy morning room a couple of days after the Kenwicks’ ball, she found her friend playing with her children, Henry and Emily. A tan and white beagle puppy gamboled toward her with a high-pitched yelp and a madly wagging tail.

Clearly she’d interrupted some private family time. Flustered, she turned away, eager to leave. “I do beg your pardon, Fen. You’re busy this afternoon. I can come back another day.”

Fenella rose from her chair, the book she’d been reading to her seven-year-old daughter dangling from one hand. Dark-haired Emily had inherited her dynamic father’s striking looks, whereas Henry had his mother’s classic features and golden coloring.

“No, Jane, come in.” The blonde woman raised her free hand to smooth the stray strands of hair escaping her simple knot. Jane had never seen Fen less than perfectly turned out, but today her pink muslin gown was crushed and showed traces of puppy paws and a nursery tea. She gestured to the toys scattered across the priceless Aubusson carpet. “As you can probably tell, we weren’t expecting company, but it’s always lovely to see you.”

“I was just passing, and I thought I’d call in.” Not true. She’d set out, hoping to catch Fenella on her own. She liked all her new friends, but she felt a particular affinity with Fenella. Perhaps because unlike her stubborn clodpoll of a husband, Fenella had learned to love again. Or perhaps because Fenella’s quiet strength was something she desperately needed right now, as she struggled to find a way forward in her marriage. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I’ll see you this evening at the Jamesons’ musicale.” She struggled to sound enthusiastic about yet another party.

“No, please stay. The children will play in here, and we can go through to the drawing room.” She sent nine-year-old Henry a minatory glance. “The first sign of a quarrel between you two, and it’s back to the schoolroom and Latin translation. And don’t let Milo chew the furniture, or your father will hit the roof.”

“Papa likes Milo,” Emily said, darting forward to pick up the squirming puppy and clutch him close to her chest.

“He won’t, if every chair in the house is only fit for firewood,” Fen said sternly, then turned to Jane with a brilliant smile. “Jane, take me away from this madhouse.”

Jane soon found herself clutching a cup of tea and sitting beside Fen on a green brocade sofa. She looked around the pretty room and struggled not to sound too envious. “This is such a happy house. You can feel it.”

“Thank you.” Fen smiled and nibbled at a sugar biscuit. Jane’s biscuit balanced on the edge of her saucer. She hadn’t touched it. Lately food stuck in her throat. Her glamorous new dresses all hung too loose on her. “When I married Anthony, everyone except my closest friends was convinced it was the mismatch of the century, especially as we’d only known one another a few weeks. It’s been nice to prove all the old biddies wrong.”

“You’re lucky,” Jane said, staring down into her cup.

“Yes, we are.” Fenella’s emphatic tone was surprising, coming from someone who looked as fragile as a Meissen shepherdess. “People predicted disaster for Anthony and me, just as they predicted it for you and Garson.”

Jane’s eyes flashed up in shock. “We trot along all right.”

Fen looked skeptical, as she took the cup and saucer. “Give me that. You’re just playing with it. I’m really glad you came to me today, Jane. I’ve wanted to talk to you for weeks, and it’s hopeless trying to find a private moment at any of the crushes we’ve attended.” To Jane’s relief, she began to sound a little less militant. “Am I wrong in thinking you need a friend?”

Jane hadn’t arrived with any plans to confide her troubles. She’d just felt a craving for some undemanding company to distract her from endless brooding on her hopeless and destructive love.

“I believe we’re friends,” she said cautiously. The ton was a hotbed of gossip. Much as she liked Fenella, she wasn’t in a hurry to share her secrets.

As if she read her mind, Fen sent her a straight look. “You can tell me to mind my own business. Usually I do. Interfering is much more in Caro or Helena’s line. Anyway, I expect I can guess most of the trouble.”

Jane frowned. “I didn’t say there was trouble.”

Fen’s glance was unimpressed. “You don’t have to. If you lose any more weight, poor Hugh will have to buy you a whole new wardrobe, and you work too hard showing everyone you’re having a good time to actually be having a good time. You look more brittle than that delicious sugar biscuit—which I might point out you didn’t deign to taste.”

“You…you’re very frank.” Jane stood up, her knees shaky. This attack wasn’t what she’d sought. “I can see I shouldn’t have come.”

“Don’t go. Please.” Fen caught her hand, before she could turn away. “You think I’m rushing in where angels fear to tread. But I hate knowing you’re unhappy.”

Jane was so close to breaking, the friendly gesture had her blinking back tears. “Is it obvious?”

“No, not at all. Most people wouldn’t have a clue.” She tugged Jane’s hand. “Sit down. Have some more tea.”

“I’ve spent my whole life hungering for some excitement,” she said, subsiding back onto the couch. “I envied Susan so much because she had a season, while I missed out.”

“Now you’re a grand success.” Fenella paused. “Yet it doesn’t matter a fig, because you’re in love with a man who loves someone else.”

Jane’s breath caught on an audible gasp. “I can’t talk about this.”

“You should. It would do you good. You can trust me, you know. I’d give anything to see Garson settled. He’s had a rum time of it and behaved like a complete hero throughout.”

“And all he has to show for his gallantry is a broken heart and a loveless marriage,” Jane said bitterly, before she thought to stop herself.

Fen’s eyes were searching. “Are you sure it’s loveless?”

“Well, I love him,” she admitted. Just saying the words aloud to someone, even if it wasn’t Hugh, felt like shifting a boulder off her soul.

Fen smiled. “Of course you do. But isn’t there any chance he loves you?”

“When he proposed, he told me that he’d always love Morwenna Nash.”

The name she’d come to hate hurtled into the conversation with a crash.

“My dear, I’m sorry.” Fenella’s lovely face glowed with compassion. “When I met you, he was obviously in alt that he’d married you. You seemed so perfect together.”

Jane shrugged, unable to force any words past the jagged lump in her throat. She and Hugh were perfect together, but he remained too mired in past disappointment to see that. Honestly, sometimes she wanted to bang that noble head against a wall until he saw sense.

She swallowed, then swallowed again, before she could ask the question that had tormented her since her marriage. “Please, can you tell me what she’s like? Nobody ever says. They just speak her name, then pause as if they’re in the presence of something holy.”

Fenella looked appalled. “You poor thing. Your imagination must be running wild.”

“It’s like fighting a ghost,” she said in a reedy voice.

Fenella squeezed her hand. “We all got into the habit of protecting Morwenna, after the news that Robert had died in a skirmish at sea. They were so in love, and she couldn’t move past her grief.”

“You did.”

Fenella sighed. “It took me a lot of years to start living again. You don’t shake real love off in an instant.”

“No.” Jane was discovering that, much as she wished it were otherwise. What a lot of misplaced love the world contained. Morwenna longing for Robert. Hugh longing for Morwenna. Fenella longing for her first husband. Jane longing for Hugh. It was like a game of chase, if one ignored the broken hearts littering the playground.

“We were all delighted, when she and Hugh became engaged. He’s a good man and perceptive enough not to push her too far too fast.”

Hugh was a good man. Jane braced to ask the question that she’d never been brave enough to ask her husband. “Do you know if Hugh and Morwenna were lovers?”

Fenella pondered before she answered. “I don’t believe so. In fact, I’m almost sure not.”

Jane shouldn’t be relieved to hear that. After all, the problem was his spiritual connection with his beloved, not anything physical they’d done. But nonetheless she was pleased.

Fenella went on. “That’s part of the problem. Garson never got to know Morwenna as a real woman with all the normal imperfections.”

“In his mind, she’s like an exquisite painting.”

“Yes. That makes it frightfully hard to live up to her image, I’m sure. And he’s such a knight in shining armor. Morwenna’s tragic loss made her doubly appealing, even if she wasn’t so beautiful.”

Of course Morwenna was beautiful. Fairytale princesses awaiting rescue from their towers always were.

“He’s always collected lame ducks, right from when he was a boy.” Jane sighed. “You could say I’m another lame duck. When he proposed, my father had died, and I was facing some unappealing choices after my cousin inherited my home.”

“You’re a very different woman from Morwenna, Jane.”

“Which doesn’t help.”

“Nonsense. Hugh and Morwenna weren’t meant to be. Morwenna never stopped loving Robert, and now they’re together and blissfully happy. Hugh has no hope of winning her back, even if honor permitted. You’re here. She isn’t.”

Jane’s lips turned down. “I’m here with all my faults.”

“All your warmth and gaiety and beauty.”

She shook her head. “It’s not enough.”

“Have you asked him if he still loves her?”

“No.” She shuddered at the idea. “I’m afraid to mention her name.”

“That only makes her more powerful,” Fenella said sharply. “I love Morwenna dearly, but she’s not superhuman.”

Jane shook her head again and pulled free of Fenella’s comforting hand. “In Hugh’s heart, she is superhuman. I can’t bear it.” Her voice broke on the last words, and she turned away toward the windows. She didn’t want Fen to see how close she was to breaking down.

“Jane?” Fenella asked, in sudden concern. “Are you all right?”

Jane fumbled for her handkerchief and dried the few stubborn tears she couldn’t stanch. She turned back to Fen. “It’s impossible, living with a man who loves someone else. Every moment feels like a punch in the face.”

“Oh, my dear…”

She stood on unsteady legs and stepped away from the sofa. If Fenella touched her in sympathy now, she really would lose control. If she did, she’d cry into next month. “I don’t know what to do.”

Fenella’s delicate features hardened in determination. “First, you must find out if you need to keep fighting this battle. Hugh feels something for you. That’s clear to everyone who cares about him. I’d hoped it was love—or at least its beginnings. But you say not, and you’re in a better position to know.”

“Love wasn’t part of our arrangement,” Jane said bleakly.

Fen made a dismissive sound. “Arrangements change as circumstances do. Believe me, when I met Anthony, the last thing I wanted was a new husband.”

Jane considered Fenella’s remark. Was she torturing herself over a phantom? “You’re right. All this silence only gives Morwenna more space in my marriage.”

“You won’t believe me, but if you met her, I think you’d like her. Most people do.”

Jane doubted it, although she was well aware that the real Morwenna wasn’t the same as the idealized Morwenna who set such a wedge between her and her husband. “I’d probably scratch her eyes out.”

Fen gave a huff of laughter. “Then it’s a good thing she rarely comes to Town.”

Jane hardly listened. “What do I do if I ask him, and he says he can never love me?”

That was the likely outcome, she knew.

“Then you have some thinking to do.” Fenella stood up next to Jane and placed her hand on her arm. “If you need a friend to talk to or some neutral territory to make your decision, I’m always here. Remember you’re not alone in this, Jane. You have somewhere to go.”

Curse it, she was going to start crying again. Jane blinked back prickling tears and forced a wobbly smile to her lips. “Thank you, Fen. I don’t deserve your kindness.”

“Of course you do.” Fen smiled back, but concern clouded her blue eyes. “I’d give anything to see you and Garson resolve your problems.”