There wasn’t anyone else willing to help her. Those words pierced Gemma’s heart. She’d always acknowledged that Baz marrying her had been an act of heroism, but somehow hearing from his own lips that there’d been nothing else to the decision, no attraction or affection or tenderness, cut deeply.

“Marrying someone is taking ‘helping’ to an entirely new level,” Elizabeth said. “Her difficulties must have been enormous to take such a drastic step.”

“Believe me,” he said, “had there been a less-drastic solution, I would have taken it.”

It was the closest Gemma had ever heard Baz come to saying he regretted marrying her. She’d known he wasn’t drowning in love for her, had known the desperate nature of her circumstances had pushed the matter forward quickly. But his explanation—that he’d been helping her because no one else would—held a painful note of pity and a hint of not having had a choice.

She’d come to love him all those years ago. She had always, in her heart of hearts, believed he felt the same but was simply struggling to say so.

But he hadn’t. He’d pitied her when seeing that no one else was willing to do a blasted thing for her. He’d rescued her, but he hadn’t loved her. How easily she’d let herself believe, when his letter had arrived, that he’d had a change of heart. She was thick as Tewksbury mustard, she was.

She needed time to sort this out. But simply disappearing when they’d guests to gab with would only make things worse. She pasted a smile on her face and stepped into the room, recognizing with a drop of her heart that she’d done this before. In the last few weeks she’d lived in this house before, she’d called on every acting skill she had, every ounce of endurance, every talent for pushing away heartache and fear and worry, and had gone about each day pretending she wasn’t dying inside of a broken heart.

She very much feared Baz was about to break it again.

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Fletcher and Elizabeth didn’t stay too late, which was fortunate for Gemma, who was struggling to keep up her cheery facade.

“You did a fine job as hostess,” Barnabus said to her as he closed the door behind their guests. “I know you haven’t done it often.”

“I’m a quick study.”

He gave her a little smile. “Perhaps we might have others over for an evening while you’re still here.”

While you’re still here. He had no expectation that she’d stay for good.