Christmas With His Wallflower Wife. Janice Preston
‘Are you finding this very trying, Alex?’
He cranked his eyelids open to find her watching him, her eyes filled with concern. They were lovely eyes, now he came to study them properly. Warm brown and thickly lashed and full not only of concern, but of kindness and understanding. And wasn’t that typical of Jane? All her worry was for him. Even on her wedding day.
‘A bit,’ he replied.
He straightened. They would be home shortly…except he never thought of it as home any more. Foxbourne was his home now and had been for close on five years. His father had bought the estate, together with its breeding stock, five years before. Alex moved in later that year and, two years later—once he proved he could be trusted to run the place—his father signed it over to him. He loved Foxbourne and he couldn’t wait to return. To go home.
He laid his hand against Jane’s cheek, registering the softness of her skin.
‘Shall you object if we leave here tomorrow? I cannot wait to show you Foxbourne Manor, although I fear it lacks a woman’s touch at the moment.’
They would need more indoor staff—he’d led a bachelor’s life until now, cared for by only his man, Drabble, and Mr and Mrs Kent, who ran the house.
‘I have often longed to run my own household.’ Her eyes glowed. ‘And I cannot wait to settle into my new home, so I’m happy for us to leave tomorrow.’ She smiled, then, and raised her eyebrows. ‘And I know you well enough to know you’ll be itching to leave here as soon as possible.’
He laughed. ‘That I am.’ He slipped his arm around her shoulders and hugged her. ‘You are a brave woman, taking me on when you know what a moody wretch I can be at times.’
He kissed her cheek and the delicate scent of jasmine wreathed through his senses. Desire sparked through his veins, surprising him.
‘Well—’ Jane pulled back, capturing his gaze with a teasing smile ‘—in a straight choice between you and Pikeford I thought black moods a touch easier to cope with than drunkenness and r-r-r…’
Her lips quivered and his heart cracked. He pulled her close, nestled her head to his shoulder. ‘Don’t, Honeybee. Don’t try to be brave and pretend it was nothing.’
She stayed there, trembling, for a few minutes. Then the carriage started to slow and she pulled away from him. Brushed a finger beneath each eye in turn and gave a tiny sniff. Alex handed her his handkerchief without a word.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered.
They both put on a decent show, Jane probably more successfully than him. To watch her you would never believe anything troubled her, but Alex saw the effort she was making all through that day.
Her family left early—to everyone’s relief—and, watching Jane with the Beauchamps afterwards, Alex could see she would fit right in. And why shouldn’t she, when she had known them for so long they were like a second family to her?
He watched over her, alert for any hint of distress. None came. And, through the day, Aunt Cecily, too, kept her eye on Jane and often drew her into conversations.
‘She will need your patience, Alex.’
Zach joined Alex as the family gathered in the drawing room after dinner that evening.
‘I am aware of it.’
Zach turned his dark gaze on Alex. ‘She is a woman who was born to lavish care on those around her and she will thrive, given love and care in return. You are a lucky man. I feel you will be good for one another, but do not be surprised if the path is bumpy in the beginning.’
Alex couldn’t help grinning. ‘Is that your Romany half talking, Zach?’
Zach smiled. ‘Perhaps.’ He bent to fondle Myrtle’s ears. She rarely left his side. ‘Or maybe it’s more that I know human nature and I know you, Alex.’
Alex sobered. Zach was right. He did know Alex—as well as, if not better than, any other member of the family. Their mutual love for and understanding of horses had fostered their friendship and respect. The rest of the family were talented horse riders, but they did not share that natural feel for troubled animals, and for horses in particular, that Alex and Zach had in common. Edgecombe, Zach’s estate in Hertfordshire, was less than thirty miles from Foxbourne and Zach regularly helped Alex with some of the challenging animals he was sent to ‘cure’.
‘I know it won’t be easy.’ He would need patience with Jane, but he suspected she would need even more with him. ‘But I’m determined to be the good husband she deserves. We’ve always been friends. It is a good place to start.’
‘Indeed it is.’
Alex noticed his father casting occasional pensive glances at him and Zach as they talked and his stomach clenched, aware Father wanted nothing more than to be as close to Alex as he was to Dominic. He turned away, allowing that same unhappy, unsettling mix of resentment and regret to subside. Why did he always feel that way? The rest of the family loved his father unequivocally and Alex—when he viewed him objectively—saw he was a good man. A good husband. A good father. A good employer. But no matter how he tried to overcome his unreasonable distrust with logic, his emotions always won.
He scanned the room for Jane. She sat with Aunt Thea, their heads together, chatting animatedly—well, Aunt Thea was always a veritable bundle of energy—and he wondered, for the first time, if his new wife might help him to change. Could he change? Was it possible? Could he, as he longed to do, learn to love his father unconditionally?
That thought unsettled him even more. Maybe he could, in time. But not yet. Now, all he wanted was to leave the Abbey and to return to Foxbourne, where it was safe. He no longer questioned that feeling of insecurity that assailed him at the Abbey. It simply was. It was how he had always felt.
‘We are leaving tomorrow,’ he said now to Zach.
Zach raised one dark brow. ‘That is a pity when you have just arrived. The rest of us plan to remain a little longer—the children do so love to spend time with their cousins.’
‘We’ll all be sorry to see you go, Son.’ Alex stiffened as his father interrupted them. ‘But I guessed you would be keen to take Jane to Foxbourne as soon as possible. I’ve ordered your carriage for nine in the morning, but if you prefer to leave earlier, or later, just send word to the stables.’
‘Thank you, Father.’
His father tipped his head to one side and smiled. ‘Don’t leave it so long to visit us next time.’ He reached out and grasped Alex’s upper arm. ‘We miss you. I miss you.’
Alex swallowed, his throat constricted by a painful lump. ‘I won’t.’
But he knew he would.
He threw a smile at his father and Zach and moved away to join Jane and Aunt Thea on the sofa, wondering again if marriage and, in time, fatherhood might help him relax more around his father. He truly hoped so.
‘I’ve been telling Jane about the children, Alex,’ Aunt Thea said.
This was the first time Alex had met baby George, the youngest of Uncle Vernon and Aunt Thea’s children. Thomas, with a mop of red curls like his mother’s and busy creating havoc wherever he could, and Sophie, a little chestnut-haired poppet, had both grown since he’d last seen them and Alex felt a pang of remorse at missing so much of their childhood. At times like this, he could almost forget those feelings that kept him away. Kept him distant and alone. But then they would rear up, nipping and clawing at the edges of his memories, and he would retreat again, behind his barricades, to safety.
‘They’re