Page 56 of Love Abandoned

Chapter Twenty-Five

But my five wits nor my five senses can

Dissuade one foolish heart from serving thee,

Who leaves unswayed the likeness of a man,

Thy proud heart’s slave and vassal wretch to be.

—Shakespeare, “Sonnet 141”

“My lord?” Hastingsoffered more champagne, and Richard held his glass out obligingly. He’d lost count of how many he’d had, but knew it was not enough. He took a large gulp, wishing he could wash away this incessant draw to Elizabeth. It was dangerous.

She sat with Sophia and Catherine in the far corner. He couldn’t hear their laughter from where he stood, but it was written on their faces. Sophia had become fast friends with Elizabeth when she’d moved to a nearby estate shortly after they were married, but Catherine was a newer addition. He was glad of it. She needed the company of women, and he needed her distracted.

“Well done, Thornwood,” Walford said, slapping him on the back. “I’ll not ask how you got your hands on so much champagne, but I daresay it’ll be noted in the papers.” He swept an arm around the room. “This was bloody brilliant. It will definitely make the gossip merry-go-round tomorrow.”

“And you know I live for that,” Richard said and rolled his eyes. “Although, Elizabeth and her project might enjoy some benefit from it, I suppose.”

“Not to change the subject, but it will. Any news?” Walford lifted his glass to his lips, seeming relaxed, as though this was a casual conversation. He was far better at dissembling than Richard.

“In a day? I’m not a damn miracle worker.”

“Goodness, man, no need to snap,” Walford said, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“My apologies. I want done with this business, yet there seems no end in sight.” He threw back the remainder of his champagne. “Surely I can have one day free of it?”

“It is I who should apologize. You are right, of course. It’s been an unexpected burden for you. I ask only out of concern. And also because Catherine is growing tired and would like to return to Woodfield. We will be leaving town this week.”

Even though he’d known it was inevitable, it was a punch thrown at his already battered spirit with regard to this mess. He’d dragged Walford into this and been glad of his assistance. More, he’d been relieved to have a confidante and an ally. When Walford left London, he’d have neither. “I envy you” was all he said.

“I’ve outrun them all so far,” Bentley said, stepping up to them and swaying slightly on his feet. “No filly has managed to pen me in.”

He gave an exaggerated wink and chuckled, clearly amused with himself. Richard grasped his arm and steadied him.

“What?” Bentley brushed at Richard’s hand, but Richard held tight. “You two look a little intense for”—he paused, covered his mouth with his free hand, and hiccuped—“a picnic.”

“I do believe it’s time for me to take my leave. And you, my friend,” Walford said to Bentley. “Let’s go gather my wife, and we’ll drop you off on our way home.”

Bentley grinned foolishly. “The great escape, aye? I knew I could count on you. Is Miss Langdon to go home too?”

Walford raised an eyebrow at Bentley, and Bentley guffawed.

“Don’t even think it. Only want to make sure you don’t leave the poor girl behind with this…lot,” Bentley said, stumbling over the wordlotthree times before completing his sentence.

Richard grabbed a full glass from a passing footman and watched as Walford guided Bentley toward the ladies. One in the throes of love and the other doing his damnedest to avoid any entanglement. It struck him that the men represented the two sides warring within him. And he knew which side must win.

*

“Batti il ferrofinché è caldo,” Sophia said, stepping up beside Elizabeth and startling her.

She’d been watching Richard escort the last of their guests down the stairs. Truth be told, she was imagining what lay beneath that jacket and those trousers. “Batti ilwhat?” she said, blushing with embarrassment even though she knew Sophia could not possibly know what was on her mind.

“Strike the iron while it is hot,” Sophia said, raising her fan and flapping it wildly as though she was suffering great heat. “I see the way he looks at you this day,mia amica, and you him. You must fan those embers.”

So much for Sophia not knowing the depraved path Elizabeth’s mind had wandered down. She was certain her face must be crimson now. Sophia laughed and kissed each cheek before Elizabeth could form a dignified response.

“You are far tooinnocentefor a married woman.” Sophia patted Elizabeth’s cheek, the soft silk of her glove cool on her face. “Leave your purity at the bedroom door tonight. Show him it is not only your cheeks that burn.”

---