admitted. “When I was with you at Denver House for your lying in, it changed something in me.”
“You will be a wonderful mother, Nell,” her friend said, her voice ringing with certainty.
“I am afraid, Maggie.” She caressed the baby’s cheek again. “What shall I do? I want to believe Jack. I want the love we once shared. But I am not even sure if that is possible. Can I ever truly trust him?”
“Trust your heart,” Maggie advised. “Your heart will guide you. It did me, and I have never regretted my decision to find my happiness with Simon. Do not forget, I was in your position once, determined to divorce my husband. We may not have had the most conventional of beginnings to our marriage, but where there is love, there is always hope. Our love brought us together, made us stronger. And now, we have little Alexander. The reward was worth far more than the risks.”
Did she dare trust her heart? Did she dare trust Jack?
“I love my husband quite desperately, I am afraid.” The words were torn from her. “Poor Tom…I have just come from crying off with him, and I fear I have broken his heart. But I knew it was not right. I knew I could never care for him the way I love Jack. There is no comparison between the two.”
“Then it sounds as if you already have the answer, Nell.” Maggie gave her an encouraging smile. “Your second chance is waiting for you. All you need to do is take it.”
The door to the sitting room opened then to reveal Maggie’s husband Simon, Lord Sandhurst. He grinned and bowed. “Two of my favorite ladies. Nell, you are looking regal as ever. We have missed you, and Alexander has missed his godmother.”
“I have missed you all as well,” she returned. “I have just returned from the country, rather unexpectedly, and I thought to pay a call to my dearest friends. I hope you do not mind.”
“Never,” Simon said, going to Maggie’s side and dropping an ardent kiss on her brow. “You will join us for dinner, I hope?”
She had not planned upon it, but there was no one awaiting her back at the townhouse. Suddenly, the prospect of returning to an empty home seemed daunting. She watched the unspoken intimacy passing between her two friends, the naked adoration on their expressions. Their happiness pleased her.
And it occurred to her, all in a rush, that she wanted to secure that same deep, abiding contentedness for herself.
With Jack. Always, only, with Jack. He had owned her heart from that first dance at Cowes. And he owned it still. For the first time since his return, the weight upon her heart had lifted. She saw so clearly what she needed to do.
The answer had been there all along, but she had been too stubborn to admit it.
“I would love to join you for dinner,” she decided. “It shall have to wait until another time, however. I have a husband to win back.”
Returning to his townhouse after such a lengthy absence felt strange.
Stranger still to find it empty.
Nell was not here. She had gone directly to Sidmouth upon her return to London, and she had yet to come home. The discovery had been a weighty blow. Jack sat in the chamber that had once served as his study. The walls were cluttered with paintings she had procured. The damask wall coverings had been replaced with stripes and roses. The Axminster was equally floral, and even the divans were covered with flowery upholstery. His desk had been replaced by a rosewood escritoire, and there was a piano in the middle of the room.
He sat at the piano now, fingers resting idly on the keys.
She was with Sidmouth right now.
He had lost her.
There was a sideboard filled with spirits calling to him across the chamber. He could drown his sorrows in true fashion. Drink himself to oblivion. Numb the grief eating him alive.
The old Jack would have done so. But the old Jack had been reckless and foolish and impulsive. The old Jack should have stayed and fought for the woman he loved. He should have swallowed down his hurt and his pride. He never should have gone.
He had, however.
The past could not be undone.
He closed his eyes, bowed his head. His fingers moved over the ivory, beginning a dirge appropriate for the moment. For the agonizing loss. He would have to let her go now, grant her the divorce. He