Glimmer of Hope by Sarah M. Eden Page B

a husband they didn’t see as her equal.
    “And,” Hartley continued, “as time passed, you grew a little angry and your pride took a beating. So you kept up the amicable separation ruse for the sake of your dignity.”
    And more than a mere ring of truth to that.
    “What do you intend to do now?” Hartley asked. “Have you talked to her about any of this?”
    Carter allowed a single, humorless laugh at the ridiculousness of the question. “Anytime we have come remotely close to discussing personal things, we’ve only ended up fighting or back to the tense silence we had the first few days I was here.”
    Hartley gave him a sympathetic look. “That does make talking rather difficult. And at the end of the house party, do you simply pack up your bags and go? Pretend the two of you never crossed paths again?”
    “I have no idea.” Carter rubbed his hand over his weary face. “We are managing to get along relatively well but only because we don’t talk about anything. Silence is the foundation of our current interaction.”
    “A shaky foundation, that.” Hartley’s eyes wandered to the fire, his expression one of pondering. “It seems you’d do better to build something more closely resembling trust.”
    “How can I trust someone I can tell is still lying to me?”
    Hartley’s gaze returned to him. “Lying? Still ?”
    Miranda had said so many times that she loved him and was happy. Those two declarations had to have been lies for her to leave the way she had. And though he couldn’t put his finger on just what, he could tell she was hiding something from him again.
    “I don’t know.” He pushed away from the wall. “Maybe it’s just that she’s so changed.”
    “Changed in what way?”
    “She’s . . .” In what way? “Miranda used to wear her heart on her sleeve. She was full of life and vigor. Now she hides behind this aura of calm that feels . . . It feels like a lie. There is something else going on with her that I can’t put my finger on.”
    “Maybe the lady is uncomfortable with your current situation and is trying to hide that.”
    “It seems like more than that.” Carter was frustrated and confused. “I simply can’t trust her. Not with our past. Not when she’s so distant.”
    Hartley nodded slowly. “That could make a reconciliation tricky.”
    “There won’t be a reconciliation,” Carter said.
    “Why not?”
    Why not? Because I don’t want one. Because I can’t go through that again.
    “There just won’t be.” And he would leave it at that. He made his way toward the book room door. “I’ll see Adèle and you at dinner tonight, then?”
    “And I’ll see Lady Devereaux and you,” Hartley answered.
    Carter gave him a pointed look. “Don’t start.”
    Hartley held up his hands in a show of mock surrender.
    Carter could almost smile at that. “And, Hartley, what I told you—”
    “Won’t go beyond this room,” Hartley assured him.
    “Thank you.”
    Hartley gave a firm nod and took up his book again.
    Spilling his troubles hadn’t made them go away. Carter wasn’t even sure it had helped. But at least the words weren’t still simmering inside. He’d pushed them out, and now he could face his problems again.

Chapter Seven
    “There is to be a picnic in the conservatory this afternoon, Miranda.” Mother gently reproved Miranda behind the closed doors of the sitting room. Carter pretended to be absorbed in a book, though he couldn’t have said which one he held. Mother and Miranda’s “disagreement” had been ongoing for the better part of a quarter hour. “This was planned several days ago. You agreed to the schedule.”
    “I did not agree to the timing,” Miranda insisted in her level, quiet voice. “I asked that the picnic be held at nuncheon as opposed to tea.”
    “At this time of year, the weather prevents most activities. It is best to postpone those few that remain possible until later in the day, Miranda. Otherwise, the day will drag for