ancestors and several dogs—deerhounds. It was a wonderful house. Some fortunate woman would marry Noel and come here with their children and they’d have golden days and velvet nights.
That woman wasn’t her.
She knew this because she understood that no matter what, she had to tell Noel everything. He deserved it. He might pull his investment from McGale & McGale, and demand that the others withdraw in solidarity, but that was a chance she had to take.
Once he learned the truth, he’d want nothing more to do with her. She would be banished from the kingdom of his heart, and spend the rest of her life in exile, with only the memory of the last few days to keep her company.
Conversation in the carriage for the return journey was minimal. It seemed everyone was worn thin, between the Bazaar and the trip out to Wiltshire.
Jess stared out the window as the carriage drove away to preserve Carriford’s image in her memory.
Her gaze moved to Noel. Tension ripened between them, heavy almost to bursting. But they couldn’t speak candidly in front of Lady Haighe and Lord Pickhill, leaving the air thick with everything unsaid.
She’d bolted last night, and he’d been so open, so vulnerable. She’d repaid his courage with cowardice. But that would come to an end once they reached London.
Jess rehearsed what she would say to him, yet all the words she grasped seemed too clumsy to express how much he’d come to mean to her. It would be wrong and manipulative to tell him of her deception, then follow up with a declaration of her feelings. Emotions weren’t to be used like weapons or traps, hurting or ensnaring someone.
Noel had donned his ducal mask, appearing as unruffled as if he’d been sitting in his favorite chair at Brooks’s.
Lord Pickhill broke the silence. “Almost forgot that the Season’s still going strong. We’ve a few more weeks of assemblies and balls and God only knows what before we can rest for the duration of the summer.” He chuckled. “There’s to be a ball tonight at the Earl and Countess of Ashford’s home. There aren’t many from the Bazaar who were invited, but you must be, Your Grace.”
“I’m obliged to attend,” Noel said. “Been trying to coordinate my schedule with Ashford and the ball’s the only opportunity we’ll have to speak to one another about a bill he’d like to sponsor.”
“Surely you will attend, as well, Lady Whitfield,” Lord Pickhill pressed. “There will be an abundance of men of marriageable age who will be delighted by a pretty widow such as yourself.” When she didn’t answer, he added, “You do intend to marry again, do you not?”
She felt Noel’s focus on her, but she kept her attention on Lord Pickhill.
“I am not marrying.”
Silence fell as tight as a knife against the throat.
Finally, Lord Pickhill coughed. “The roads are good this time of year, at least. Don’t you think so, Lady Haighe?”
“No one cares about the state of the roads, Pickhill,” Lady Haighe answered. “But,” she continued, when he deflated, “I’ll be happy to talk about horse racing. The Meloy family’s supposed to breed and train the best horseflesh in England.”
Lord Pickhill seized the topic and said with forced brightness, “I saw one of their stallions race not long ago. Magnificent creature.”
The conversation continued, yet Jess paid it no heed. She was aware only of the tension emanating from Noel, and how her own body felt strung taut to the point of snapping.
It was a very long ride back to London. The miles ticked by, and anxiety climbed. Thank God she wore gloves to keep her fingernails from digging trenches in her palms. As it was, her hands ached from being clenched for hours.
Signposts on the city’s outskirts announced their imminent arrival. And then they were in London proper.
Noel had given his carriage drivers directions to each of his guests’ homes because they were not going straight to Rotherby House. Instead, the carriages containing the guests, their servants, and their baggage stopped at each person’s residence. The route must have been planned at Carriford, because it became evident that Jess would be the last guest delivered to their doorstep.
They said goodbye to Lord Pickhill, and then Lady Haighe, and then, abruptly, Jess was alone in the carriage with Noel. But the vehicle didn’t move.
She blinked at him, words drying up as her heart pounded so hard surely he had to hear it.
“I need to tell my coachman your direction,” Noel said flatly. “However, I