Judith Stacy - The One Month Marriage

Jana met his gaze but didn’t answer. His explanation was reasonable, yet didn’t erase the pain she’d gone through at the time.

After another long moment, Brandon spoke again, his voice straining for calm.

“As I said, we are married. You and I are bound together by law and in the sight of God. Our marriage isn’t over simply because you declare it to be.”

A thread of panic whipped through Jana. “We haven’t seen each other in months. We hardly knew each other to begin with—”

“Then how can you know that our marriage is over?” Brandon demanded, his eyes boring into her. “How can you declare it dead when we haven’t even given it a fair chance?”

Jana determinedly held herself rigid, refusing to let him see the chaos his words—his logic—stirred in her.

“What makes you think, after all this time and all that’s happened, that we can make it work?” Jana demanded.

“Nothing’s happened that can’t be undone,” Brandon insisted.

Jana gulped, guilt replacing her panic. “That’s not true. Things—”

He put up his hand, silencing her. “Perhaps we can’t work out these problems you believe we have. But we won’t know unless we try.”

Her resolve crumbled further. “Brandon, it’s not that simple.”

“Yes, it is,” he said. “And if our marriage dies, at least it will die with us trying to do the right thing.”

Jana’s knees weakened, but for a different reason now. Never—ever—had she imagined Brandon would be so adamant about keeping their marriage together. She had no idea their union meant so much, or anything at all, to him.

“Just say you’ll try,” Brandon said.

Did she hear a plea in his voice? She wasn’t sure.

Jana shook her head. “I can’t live here forever, waiting, wondering how things will turn out.”

“Then give it a month,” Brandon said quickly. “Four weeks. Our vows are worth that much, aren’t they?”

Jana didn’t reply. How could she disagree?

“I’ll think it over,” she finally said.

That didn’t seem to suit him, but he nodded. “Tomorrow? You’ll give me your answer?”

“Yes, I’ll come back tomorrow. Before six,” Jana said, the old habit returning without her even realizing it. Six o’clock. He had always wanted her home before six o’clock.

“Promise?”

An odd wave of vulnerability sounded in his voice, and for an instant, he looked hurt and lost, touching Jana’s heart unexpectedly, making her want to rush to him, touch her palm to his cheek, soothe him.

But in the next instant, Brandon’s expression hardened again and so did Jana’s heart.

“I’ll be here before six o’clock,” she told him. “I promise.”

Brandon just nodded. He stood there looking at her for a while, and Jana didn’t know what to do or say. Nothing seemed appropriate, so she simply turned and left. To her surprise, Brandon walked alongside her through the house and out into the driveway. He waved off the driver up top and opened the hansom door for her himself.

“I’ll send my carriage for you tomorrow,” Brandon said.

“It’s not necessary.”

He gestured to the cab. “You needn’t ride around in public transportation. I’ll send my carriage—”

Jana touched his arm, even though she hadn’t meant to.

“I said I’ll be here tomorrow, and I will,” she told him.

His jaw tightened, but finally he nodded. “Fine, then.”

Jana climbed into the cab, pointedly ignoring his proffered hand. Brandon closed the door and held on to the handle.

He gazed at her though the open window. “There must have been something…something you liked about our marriage.”

“No.”

“Something you liked about…us.”

Jana gazed steadily at him. “Nothing.”

Brandon stepped back and signaled the driver who turned the cab into the street. Jana watched out the window at Brandon standing on the steps, following the cab with his gaze.

She turned away, slumping deeper into the seat.

How could she live here, in the house, for four weeks? How could she manage it…when her heart was somewhere else?

R aised voices in the outer office took Brandon’s attention from the ledger that lay open on his desk. Glad for the distraction, he closed the book. He couldn’t concentrate on the figures anyway.

How could he after last night?

The commotion beyond his closed office door continued. Brandon heard the voice of his secretary, Mr. Perkins, raised in protest. Still, Brandon remained in his chair, confident the white-haired, wiry secretary could handle whatever situation presented itself.

Brandon had no energy for confrontation today. Since receiving the telegram from Jana advising him of her return, he’d slept little. All he could think was that, at last, the ordeal would be over. His wife was returning. He’d thought everything would be back to normal.

Brandon sank lower in his chair, tuning out the disturbance in the outer office, preferring thoughts of his wife.

Their fourteen-month separation had changed her in subtle ways. He noticed each and every one of them yesterday when they’d stood across the foyer from each other and he’d been trying to put together a cohesive sentence.

Even more beautiful. The notion had hit him square in the chest yesterday. Her face a little more mature, after so short a time, her dress more sophisticated, her figure a trifle fuller. He had wanted her right there in the foyer.

He had wanted her even when she asked for a divorce.

Brandon grumbled aloud. A divorce. What nonsense. True, Jana had been young, pampered and spoiled when they married. She’d run back home to her aunt who, with the best of intentions, had taken her in and allowed Jana to accompany her on a long-planned extended trip to Europe. Brandon understood how impetuous his young wife had been, and how her aunt couldn’t say no. He’d indulged them both.

But now—

His office door burst open and Mr. Perkins rushed into the room on the heels of the woman who had, surely, been the cause of the commotion.

“Now see here, madam,” Mr. Perkins barked, his face red. “You can’t come pushing your way in here. I told you that Mr. Sayer isn’t seeing anyone today without an appointment, and you haven’t—”

“Since when do I need an appointment?”

Leona Albright directed her question at Brandon, her words a seductive whisper that brought him out of his chair.

Seeing his battle lost, Mr. Perkins turned to Brandon. “I told her, Mr. Sayer, I told her you weren’t seeing anyone today without an appointment. That those were your instructions and I couldn’t allow—”

“It’s all right,” Brandon said.

“I told that young fella from the newspaper the same thing this morning. That Mr. Fisk. I told him you weren’t seeing anyone today without an appointment.” Mr. Perkins threw Leona Albright a scathing look. “Only he had the decency to respect your wishes and go about his business.”

“Thank you, Mr. Perkins,” Brandon said. “I’ll speak with Mrs. Albright.”

Mr. Perkins shot her a final contemptuous glare, then huffed out of the office, closing the door with a little more force than necessary.

Leona, her gaze still on Brandon, gave him a slow, steady smile, one that brought lesser men to their knees.

“You’ve been keeping secrets, Brandon, dear,” she purred and walked closer.

“You like secrets,” he countered.

Leona Albright did indeed like secrets. She liked everything. Tall, ten years older than Brandon, though she’d never admit it to anyone else, Leona wore her dresses cut a fraction lower than was considered decent—especially for her ample figure—and her hair a shade more fiery red than nature alone could provide. Yet her wealth, her social position and political connections on both coasts kept anyone from commenting—in public, anyway. She’d recently lost her fourth, much-older husband and, according to the latest rumor, had already turned down two marriage proposals.