Free One Night for Love by Mary Balogh

her.”
    His mother closed her eyes and pressed the handkerchief to her lips again. The countess’s room, formerly hers, was part of the suite of rooms that included the earl’s bedchamber—Neville’s own. He could almost see her coming to grips with the reality of the fact that Lily belonged there.
    “Yes,” Elizabeth said. “I am sure it is best for her to rest for a while. I look forward to making her acquaintance, Neville.”
    It was like Elizabeth, he thought, to be gracious, to take a situation as it was and somehow make something bearable of it.
    “Thank you,” he said.
    His mother had pulled herself together again. “You will bring her down to tea later this afternoon, Neville,” she told him. “There is no point in keeping her hidden, is there? I will meet her at the same time as the rest of the family. We will all behave as we ought toward your—your wife, you may rest assured.”
    Neville bowed to his mother. “I would expect no less of you, Mama,” he said. “But excuse me now. I must go and see Lauren.”
    “You will be fortunate if she does not throw things at your head, Neville,” Elizabeth warned him.
    He nodded. “Nevertheless,” he told her.
    He left the house a couple of minutes later and set out on foot in the direction of the dower house, which was close to the gates into the park, set back from the driveway in the seclusion of the trees and its own private garden. He was well on his way before he realized that he was
still
wearing his wedding finery. But he would not go back to change. Perhaps he would never regain his courage if he did that.
    He was about to face, he realized, one of the most difficult encounters of his life.

    Lauren was not inside the dower house. She was out behind it, sitting on the tree swing, idly propelling herself back and forth with one foot. She was staring unseeingly at the ground ahead of her. Gwendoline was seated on the grass to one side of the swing. Both of them were still dressed for the wedding.
    He would rather be anywhere else on earth, Neville thought just before his sister spotted him. They were two of the dearest people on earth to him, and he had done this to them. And there was no comfort to bring. Only a totally inadequate explanation.
    Gwendoline jumped to her feet at sight of him and glared. “I hate you, Neville,” she cried. “If you have come here to make her unhappier still, you may go away again—
now
! What do you mean by it? That is what you can explain to me. What did you
mean
by saying that dreadful woman is your wife?” She burst into noisy, undignified tears and turned her face sharply away.
    Lauren had stopped swinging, but she did not turn around.
    “Lauren?” Neville said. “Lauren, my dear?” He still did not know what he could say to her.
    Her voice was steady when she spoke, but it was withouttone too. “It is quite all right,” she said. “It is perfectly all right. It was just a convenient arrangement after all, was it not, our marrying? Because we grew up together and were fond of each other and it was what Uncle and Grandpapa had always wanted. And you
did
tell me not to wait when you went away. You were quite fair and honest with me. You were not betrothed to me or even promised to me. You were quite free to marry her. I do not blame you at all.”
    He was appalled. He would have far preferred to have her rush at him, teeth bared, fingers curled into claws.
    “Lauren,” he said, “let me explain, if I may.”
    “There is nothing
to
explain,” Gwendoline said angrily, having mastered her tears. “Is she or is she not your wife, Neville? That is all that matters. But you would not have lied in church for all to hear. She is your wife.”
    “Yes,” Neville said.
    “I hate her!” Gwendoline cried. “Shabby, ugly,
low
creature.”
    But Lauren would not participate. “We do not know her, Gwen,” she said. “Yes, Neville. Tell me. Tell us. There must be a perfectly good explanation, I am sure. Once I