Page 59 of The Secret Identity of the Lord's Aide
Elizabeth’s face broke into a smile. She began to speak about the process, about how it was flowing out of her much better than expected. Irene just rolled her eyes, turning her attention back to Nathaniel.
“How completely unsurprised are we both, hmm, Lord Linfield?”
Nathaniel sensed it was time to take his leave. By his guess, it was perhaps closing in on seven or eight in the evening, and his mother would be expecting him at home. As Lady Elizabeth retrieved his coat and walked him to the door, he ached with the sadness of a brilliant night coming to a close. It was time he could never return to.
“Good evening, Lady Elizabeth,” he said. He felt his eyes growing larger. He yearned to translate everything he felt—his complete compassion for her experiences. “It was remarkable to peer into your world.”
“Thank you for giving it your time,” Lady Elizabeth offered.
In the kitchen, Irene had begun to prattle on to Peter in a lilting and broken French. Peter responded in an even more broken, almost cockney accent. Both Elizabeth and Nathaniel shared a rather sad smile before Nathaniel donned his hat and coat and spun towards the door.
But then, with a jolt, he remembered what his mother had told him. He spun back, catching the big-eyed look of Lady Elizabeth. Everything in her told him she didn’t want him to go.
“Lady Elizabeth, won’t you come to my home for dinner, to meet my mother?” he asked, ensuring that his voice was low enough that Irene didn’t hear.
At this point, Irene was speaking loudly to Peter about Lady Elizabeth’s essay before her, reading bits of it aloud. Perhaps she couldn’t hear everything Lord Linfield said. He prayed she couldn’t.
“Your mother?” Lady Elizabeth murmured. She looked incredulous as if this was coming out of left field. “I don’t suppose that’s entirely appropriate, do you?”
Lord Linfield felt his heart stabbed with apprehension. Had he misread the cues? But of course, he hadn’t. Lady Elizabeth was simply too stuck in waves of sadness, telling herself the story of her past over and over again.
“I know it’s what you want, as well,” Lord Linfield said, his voice growing increasingly insistent.
“I apologise, Lord Linfield, but I can’t imagine how you would know anything about me,” Lady Elizabeth said. There was now harshness to her eyes. She was closing up on him, making it so he couldn’t read her as well. He’d done this. He’d overstepped.
But now, he felt a strange wave of anger. For why couldn’t she accept that this was real, between them? Whatever it was. Why couldn’t they explore it?
“Lady Elizabeth, my mother would be incredibly grateful to meet you. A brilliant mind. A brilliant writer. A woman I could …” Lord Linfield trailed off, sensing he was falling off the deep end.
“You know I can’t possibly do that,” Lady Elizabeth said, her voice growing hard.
Lord Linfield spat the words before he could rein them back in. “Lady Elizabeth, it’s clear to me that you’re living in the past. And it’s been years and years. I hadn’t a clue of your situation, and I’m at the very centre of this Society you so detest.” He paused, watching as her eyes glittered with rage. “It’s simply that you don’t have to live with such regret any longer …”
“Goodbye, Lord Linfield,” Lady Elizabeth said, her voice gravelly and strange. “I shan’t make a habit of having you to my home.”
“Lady Elizabeth …” Nathaniel hissed. “You’re being unreasonable. It’s only that I … That I …” He trailed off, knowing that anything else he said—that he cared for her, that he longed to be with her, would be nothing he could take back.
And he felt strangely terrified of being rebuked, once he said things like that.
“Goodbye, Lord Linfield,” Lady Elizabeth said once more. “I’ll be in contact regarding the next speech.”
Again, Lord Linfield bowed his head and turned back towards the rain. Within moments, he heard the click of the door behind him. His boots found traction upon the cobblestones. And he headed back towards the central part of London, where his carriage awaited him.
The rain pattered atop his head, the eternal London evening custom. But Nathaniel hardly felt it, as his mind stirred with thoughts of what to do next. For he felt, for the first time, that perhaps he understood what love actually was. It filled his heart and his stomach. It forced him to question every other emotion, as this one was far bigger and far more powerful.
Yet, he knew fully, now, that Lady Elizabeth could never truly be his wife. Lady Elizabeth wouldn’t sit by and become a Countess. She needed to be out in the field, starting homeless shelters for children. She needed to put pen to paper and stream her opinions into the world—for the people certainly deserved them. She’d earned her position in life, as she’d struggled to get there.
And Lord Linfield wouldn’t be the one to take her away from it. Certainly, Lady Elizabeth wouldn’t allow it.
Chapter 25
Lady Elizabeth snapped the door closed behind Lord Linfield, dropped her back across the wood, and slid all the way to the floor so that her legs were extended in front of her and her head drooped forward. Irene swung around in her chair, a bit of scone dribbling from between her lips, and said, “What’s gotten into you?” But the smirk that she immediately flashed told Bess everything she needed to know: that she sensed the immense attraction between Bess and Lord Nathaniel Linfield; and that she knew she’d walked into something more powerful than Bess could fully verbalise.
Also, although Irene had been prattling on throughout Bess and Lord Linfield’s brief altercation, Bess knew that Irene had heard every word. She had a secret talent.
“I just simply couldn’t agree to something like that,” Bess murmured. “Meeting his mother? Goodness, it’s all too … too real.”
“It’s all real, darling,” Irene tittered, trying to sound cheerful. But the cheer fell flat. Outside, the wind rushed against the window panes. Bess felt an eerie chill, thinking of Lord Linfield out on the dark roads, his face lowered to hide from the chill.
