It’s how she got into this marriage in the first place.

Jasper swung his feet over the edge of the mattress and let his feet take his weight, ensuring he wouldn’t fall if he stood. He was lightheaded, true, but the room didn’t spin and his knees stayed firm. All he had to do was not twist.

If he’d been more careful this afternoon, he could have explained things to Annabel while looking her in the eye. He also could have avoided passing out—though at least that had spared him the torture of new stitches.

I don’t wish to marry you.

She’d told him that the day he’d proposed. And, in the name of his mission and his family name, he had convinced her to do it anyway. He’d promised her everything but love. She’d told him she didn’t even expect loyalty. Was it any wonder that she had assumed the worst of him?

How did he begin to convince her—

A muffled scream had him moving toward the door as quickly as he could manage. Once through, another noise from across the hall, a sharp wail that would have proven to Annabel how well their room muffled sound.

Jasper entered Claudette’s room without knocking—it wouldn’t have mattered anyway—and went to her bedside. She was bolt upright, eyes open but unseeing.

“Claudette.” He took her hand. “Très chère, réveille-toi.” French always worked best to rouse her. “Réveille-toi. Tu es en sécurité.” She had quieted, but her stare was still vacant. Her short, panting breaths sounded as though she’d run a foot race in her sleep. “Tout est bien.”

Her shoulders sagged, taking her chin with them. Jasper perched on the edge of the bed and braced himself as she fell against him. He kept a steady stream of comforting French platitudes until her breaths grew longer and more even.

“Je suis désolé,” Claudette mumbled. “I had hoped my…cauchemars would not reappear.”

She said the same thing every time she visited. Nightmares would likely hound her until they found Gareth. Seeing Jasper weak and bloody this afternoon likely hadn’t helped. He shifted, working to relieve the pressure on his stitches so it didn’t happen again. “Would you like to tell me?”

She shook her head. “They are always the same. I can hear him but not find him, and the longer I search, the more desperate he becomes.” She gave a watery sniffle. “I miss him, Jasper.”

They all did. The man’s laugh, his sense of adventure, had been impossible to ignore. “He was a special man.” If they were right, if Collins had taken Gareth from them, the man would pay. One way or another, they would all have peace.

“I hope I did not disturb your wife.” Claudette sat straighter and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her ridiculously frilly nightdress.

Jasper shook his head. “She is still with her family.”

“You are worried,” Claudette said. “I can hear it in what you do not say.”

Annabel shouldn’t have to deal with things alone, but Jasper couldn’t have gone even if she’d asked. Which she hadn’t done. That was almost more worrisome than what might have been waiting for her.

“Her father is very challenging, and she is very determined.” He wasn’t certain what else he could say. Annabel had left without a word or even a backward glance.

“That can be a difficult combination,” Claudette said. “She seemed plein d’émotions when she left.”

Full of emotions. With the French, that could mean she was weeping hysterically or carrying a gun. “She can handle herself.” He said it as much as for his own reassurance as for an explanation to Claudette. Whatever her family’s problem, Annabel had the strength and intelligence to manage it.

“Even strong women need their husbands,” Claudette whispered. “Sometimes more than others. Perhaps even more than they may realize.” She pushed his arm. “Go wait for her return. She will need you more than I.”

Jasper waited until she was settled against the pillows and then left the room.

He felt Annabel’s presence before he saw her at the top of the stairs.

Bollocks. Would he never learn to check the hallway before he stumbled from a room in a compromising position?

For a moment he considered explaining Claudette’s terrible nightmares, but one look at his wife’s stiff shoulders and white knuckles hinted she wouldn’t believe him anyway. “Welcome home.”

“Thank you.” She didn’t move from her place, halfway between the stairs and her door. Too far to reach, but close enough he could see her struggle for what to say next.

“Annabel,” he began. “I—”

“You’re pale.” She was strangling her gloves as she stared at him with eyes that were too bright. “Are you well?”

“I overdid it while you were gone.” Jasper kicked himself when her eyes went to the door behind him. “How did you leave your family?” he asked as he stepped toward her.

“Peter Drew offered for Rachel.”

He knew Drew’s family. His uncle was an honest man who ran his estates well. He was also a formidable proponent in Lords for agricultural protections. From what Jasper knew of Peter, he was a levelheaded chap who would do credit to the title when he inherited it. “It would be a good match, if she’s agreeable.”

“She’s over the moon.” Annabel walked to her door, away from him so that all he could see was her simply styled hair. “They are madly in love.”

She should have sounded happier, and, if all she’d been doing was celebrating a happy match, she should have been home hours ago. He followed her. “What happened?”

“Father.” She sighed. “He decided if Rachel was ready to marry, he could match her to someone with a larger purse, someone so grateful for a young wife that he’d support any scheme her father suggested.”

Any goodwill would end the moment the investment soured, and Rachel would likely suffer the consequences. “You fought him.”

It wasn’t a question. He didn’t need it to be. Annabel would do anything for her sisters, even marry the devil himself.

“I blackmailed him into agreeing and then stayed until the contracts were signed. They are downstairs in your safe, along with his copy of Debrett’s.” She looked at him then, and the disappointment dulling her eyes and muting her happiness made Jasper ache to hold her.

“I also promised to help them elope if he became a problem, so we might need to borrow the carriage.” She sighed. “But you’ll be relieved of sponsoring Rebecca. She’d rather go to college than have another Season.”

She hadn’t moved from her dressing table, but the distance between them was widening. “We should host a party for Rachel and Peter,” Jasper said. “A proper engagement ball.” Every young woman in love deserved that.

Annabel hadn’t had one. She’d never asked.

Her smile was too quick and too thin. “Thank you, but we agreed to a Season and a match, if possible. We didn’t negotiate a party. We didn’t even say anything about lessons or house parties, which you’ve already provided.” She looked around the room as though she were trying to memorize it, but she wouldn’t look at him. “You’ve been far too generous already.”

“Dammit, Annabel.” She was turning their life into a balance sheet, and though all the numbers were in his column, he was still losing. “Don’t do this.”

“You were coming out of her room, Jasper.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to rail at her for sending a vulnerable young widow to his room when he was a bloody mess and then judging him for settling that same woman’s nightmares, for walking away from him when he’d needed her to hold his hand. But she hadn’t been aware of any of that. If she had been, she would have stayed with him.

He knew that because he knew her. He’d felt it at Amelia’s blasted house party and that silly limerick contest, where she had skewered everything Society held dear with one simple rhyme.

There once was a man with a daughter,

Whom he led like a lamb to the slaughter.

And though she did bleat,

He swore she was sweet;