Page 53 of Love Abandoned

Chapter Twenty-Four

She gave me eyes, she gave me ears;

And humble cares, and delicate fears;

A heart, the fountain of sweet tears;

And love, and thought, and joy.

—Wordsworth, “The Sparrow’s Nest”

Richard paused andlooked at the bird in the early-morning light. It cocked its head to the side but said nothing. The damned parrot had saved him from himself last night. Saved Elizabeth from him. Her yearning had been palpable, and he’d longed to satisfy her needs. He’d been sorely tempted. Had the bird not interrupted, he wasn’t sure he would have turned away from the invitation in Elizabeth’s eyes and the promise from her body.

“Thank you,” he said.

The parrot shifted its feet and hopped to the far side of its perch, but it did not take its eyes off Richard, who was waiting for its response.Hell and the devil. He was talking to birds now.

“My lord, flowers are arriving. Are they all to come in here?”

“Yes, they are, Clarkson. Thank you.”

Richard turned at the sound of Elizabeth’s voice. She smiled tentatively, looking ethereal in the morning sun, a bandeau wrapped around her head like a halo. He smiled back, and she came closer. His heart tightened in regret.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked, although he knew the answer. The light bruising under her eyes told him she had slept as little as he had.

“I had much on my mind,” she said, holding his gaze momentarily before sweeping her hand around the room. “There are many details to attend to before guests arrive.”

“I am sure you have it fully in check. I will make myself scarce so as not to be underfoot.”

Elizabeth’s forehead creased with concern, but she said nothing.

“I will return in plenty of time to greet the guests. I promise.” He turned before she could respond, for he would not leave were she to ask him to stay, but he needed to distance himself from her and regain some modicum of self-control.

As he descended, servants flowed upward carrying great bouquets. The floral scent filling the air did not help matters at all. Elizabeth smelled of flowers. Tasted of honey. And like a bee to a posy, he was irrevocably drawn to her.

Several hours, and thanks to Bentley’s encouragement, many a sherry later, Richard returned to the town house. Marcus helped him quickly change and ready himself for the event, and he congratulated himself when he stepped into the ballroom before any guests had arrived. Elizabeth was fiddling with flowers in the arbor, her back to him, wearing another new gown. This one clung as delightfully as the one she’d worn yesterday, but whereas her dress last night was the blue of an evening sky, this one captured the shade of the pink roses at the estate.

Elizabeth straightened and turned toward him, a smile lighting her face. Richard swallowed. She was truly the rose, not the dress. A perfect flower. The hours apart, and the drink, had done nothing to dampen his desire. He wanted to steal her away to the bedroom and explore the garden of treasures promised beneath that gown.

“You’re here,” she said, walking toward him.

“As promised,” he said, taking the hand she offered, grateful she was oblivious to his wayward thoughts.

“As promised,” she echoed, stepping close. “Thank you.” She leaned in and brushed a kiss across his cheek, her floral scent as arousing as her breasts pressed against his chest.

“Oh, I do hope I’m not interrupting,” Sophia said. “I told Hastings I was hired help today and would see myself up.” She smiled wickedly, glancing back and forth between the two of them. “I should have shouted in advance, no?”

Richard stepped back, his cheeks burning. “Countess Tessaro,” he said, bowing slightly.

“Oh, do stop with that, Richard. Being caught in dalliance with your wife calls for far less formality.”

Elizabeth giggled, and he smiled. Sophia always cut a swath through conventions. It seemed to be a point of pride with her. She quickly kissed Elizabeth and leaned in to do the same with him.

“I see my chastisements have had some good effect,” she whispered before giving him a kiss on both cheeks and stepping back, looking smug.

Richard would allow her sense of accomplishment to stand, for he was relieved to know her warnings were fully in relation to Elizabeth and had nothing to do with the damned intrigue he was entwined in. Besides, Sophia cared for Elizabeth as though they were sisters. He’d not begrudge her that protective instinct.

Servants marched through the room like small battalions, placing vases of flowers on the linens strewn strategically around the room. Gordon and Clarkson struggled up the stairs with a large harp, a small, harried man, presumably the musician, trailing behind them, muttering directions and gasping intermittently as though they would damage it.

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