on her by now. She didn’t want to face him. He could not have missed David’s insinuations. He must think her an utter hypocrite. All her hesitancy, all her reluctance, the war with her conscience, her tears—all must seem false to him. She’d lost her virtue for far less honorable reasons five years past.
The tears flowed, hot against her cold cheeks. No one could notice her cry but the queen in the center of the garden room, and she had stopped listening to Maris’s girlish hopes years ago.
Maris didn’t hear the crunch of Reynold Durant’s boots on the stone path until he was right above her, thrusting a handkerchief at her face. She took it gratefully, wiped the wet from her face and then blew her nose with all the grace of a trumpeting elephant. Just another reason to be mortified.
“You’d better tell me,” he said quietly, “although I think I can guess.”
“I’m too ashamed.”
“Here, shove over on the bench. All the way over in case there are prying eyes. If I could see you out here, others can. Take a breath.”
She had turned into a watering pot around this man. She hadn’t ever had a real friend to confide in except Jane, and for obvious reasons she had not been able to confess what she’d done with David. Maris sometimes wondered if Jane had discovered the relationship anyway, and that had contributed to her decision to walk into the lake. Maris wouldn’t put it past David to have told Jane and taunted her with it.
Layers of guilt. It was a wonder Maris could stand upright when she was so bent by the weight of them.
“I’m listening. Take your time.”
She hardly knew Reynold Durant. Oh, that was absurd. She’d allowed him into her body for the past two days. The handsome stranger who sat beside her knew more about her than her own husband did after ten years of marriage. A limited knowledge, yes, but a profound one.
She hiccupped to hold back a wave of hopeless laughter. She was becoming hysterical at the absurd situation she found herself in. “If you’ve guessed, you tell me.”
He raised a wooly brow. “No indeed. I’m not going to make it easy for you. Confession is good for the soul, I hear. I’ll not rob you of the relief of it. It’s been hard for you to keep it in, hasn’t it?”
Damn him. He was supposed to be ignorant, wasn’t he?
“I have nothing to say.” She blew her nose again, with a little more discretion.
“Your face said it all upstairs. But tell me in words. I won’t judge you, I promise.”
“Won’t you? Don’t you think me the basest sort of woman? I’m an unfaithful wife. A liar.”
“You haven’t lied so much as not told the truth. I’m not one of those who believes much in the sin of omission. Most people usually have a valid reason to leave out a word or three and keep quiet. You have the greatest reason of all. You wanted to protect your husband. Because you love him.”
The simple understanding let loose a fresh assault of tears. Reyn waited patiently while she snuffled and sniffed into his handkerchief. It smelled of sandalwood and starch and was somehow comforting.
“I-I made a horrible mistake.” She reached for more words, but they didn’t come. She’d tried to explain it all to herself for five years, and had never succeeded. How could she explain to Reynold Durant?
It turned out she didn’t need to. “You were lonely, Maris. You love your husband, yes, but he’s much older than you are—a bit of a father figure, if you want my unsolicited opinion. By his own account, he’s obsessed with his studies, not his young wife. You were looking for something that made you feel alive. Important. It’s just too bad you sought it from David Kelby.”
She almost smiled. “I thought you were going to let me confess.”
“I’m sure I left out some details. I’m not a wizard at mind reading, you know.”
“You’ve come close.” She looked at the marble queen, so regal and composed, and took a steadying breath. “When Henry married me, he’d already been afflicted with . . . oh, I don’t know how to say it.”
“He couldn’t exert his husbandly rights.”
Maris knew she was blushing. “Yes. He tried, but—” She did not wish to revisit her greatest disappointment and shrugged. “He pleased me in other ways, but we were never able to consummate the marriage despite his desire for a son.
“At first