The Master's Wife Read Free Page B

just got home,’ she muttered and stomped out.
    Caseley gazed at the letter but saw Louise Downing’s mocking triumph as clearly as if the woman were standing in front of her. She heard faint echoes of her children’s laughter. Her eyes stung and burned but remained dry. She had wept until she had no tears left.
    When Jago left she would spend three more months alone, reliving a past she could not change but could not escape. The rumours would grow and spread. Every time she ventured out she would be studied. Sympathy for her bereavement would be weighted with sympathy over her husband’s betrayal. She could not face that.
    ‘I want to go with you.’ She hadn’t known she was going to say it. The shock on his face mirrored her own. But now she had spoken she realised those words held her only chance, their only hope.
    He hesitated as something flashed in his eyes. Then he shook his head. ‘No.’
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘Caseley, you read the newspapers. Egypt is in ferment. Mr Gladstone is preparing for intervention. The English Channel fleet is already on its way to Malta. It will be dangerous.’
    She stared at him for a moment. Then shocked them both by laughing. But it was a harsh sound and filled with pain. ‘Dangerous? Tell me, Jago, what exactly do I have to fear? The worst has already happened. What can hurt me now?’
    His gaze met hers. Anguish tightened his features and she glimpsed utter desolation.
    ‘Please, Jago.’ Why? Why did you not turn to me? Why did you go to Louise Downing? Could he not see this was pointless? Her desire to go was stronger than any argument he could raise against it.
    ‘I will not risk your safety.’
    ‘You are willing to risk your own.’
    ‘I have no choice.’
    ‘And I have no purpose here.’
    ‘Caseley –’
    Emotion would not sway him – he had cut himself off from it, and her. But logic might. ‘You are bound for Egypt, but you do not speak Arabic.’
    ‘Nor do you.’
    ‘That’s true. But in Alexandria French is the common language. I speak French. You do not. I am also familiar with consular work.’ It was through her assumption of her father’s consular duties during his final illness that she had met Jago Barata.
    ‘I need no reminder.’
    She tipped her head in acknowledgment as a pulse throbbed in her throat. ‘Then surely you see I can be useful.’ As the silence stretched her restraint crumbled. ‘You must let me – I cannot stand – everywhere I turn I see them. I hear their voices.’
    He grasped her hand, held it to his chest. It was the first spontaneous move he had made in nearly a year. She fought the urge to lean on him and weep.
    ‘We can move. I’ll sell the house –’
    ‘No! No. I love this house. But I need to leave it for a while.’ She needed far more than that. She wanted the man she had fallen in love with, the man who had chosen her, with her damaged foot and untameable chestnut hair, above all the others he might have had. But after eight years, two children and tragedy, they were no longer the same people. There was no going back, so the only way was forward. Even at the risk of more pain she could not continue living as she was.
    ‘I love this place. But being here all day – and you have said so little.’
    ‘You thought I didn’t care?’ His expression was appalled.
    ‘No, I never made that mistake. I know you feel deeply. But you hold your emotions under iron control. Your stoicism – I felt abandoned, Jago.’
    As he looked away she saw the muscles bunch in his jaw. He was the only man she had ever loved. She had pledged him her heart and soul. But no longer would she accept being pushed to the fringes of his life.
    Outside the door the housekeeper coughed loudly.
    Jago released her hand. Caseley remembered a time when he would not have done so, a time when he never missed an opportunity to touch. Even outside the privacy of their bedroom they had found comfort and promise in the brush of fingers,