Page 93 of Love Abandoned

Chapter Forty-Six

Doubt thou the stars are fire;

Doubt that the sun doth move;

Doubt truth to be a liar;

But never doubt I love.

—Shakespeare,Hamlet

Light teased theedges of sleep as Elizabeth stirred but fought fully awakening. She’d arrived home, checked on the boys (both fast asleep), and come straight to her chambers. She’d undressed and sat numbly staring at herself in the mirror as Lucy had braided her hair. It was not that she was disappointed in herself, for she’d never truly thought it was in her to dally as so many lonely wives did. She’d only been drawn to one man in her life, and she’d believed it would always be that way. But she could not deny to herself that she’d been drawn to the domino, and it made her sad. Another wedge between her dreams and her reality.

She stirred, almost ready to greet another lonely day. Her night had been filled with imagery. Wolves devouring Red Riding Hood in the most lascivious of ways. Bosoms and long legs twirling to music and laughter. And a long-beaked domino holding her close, his breath on her neck so real she’d trembled as if she’d been touched.

Elizabeth shifted, registering the weight of the arm draped around her waist. She opened her eyes, her heartbeat racing, pounding in her chest, as she thought for a second that she had somehow made good on Sophia’s daring challenge. She risked a glance downward and frowned, the hammering of her heart slowly receding. The hand lying idly on her stomach was nothing to fear. She’d recognize it anywhere. Now that she was pulled completely from sleep, she also knew the breath upon her neck was not the fabrication of a dream.

“Richard?” she whispered, but the only response was his deep breathing, bordering on a snore. She carefully rolled until she faced him, edging farther away from him so she could see him more fully. The haze of sleep still hovering like a thick fog, she was both amazed and confused by his presence. Joy threatened, but she quickly squashed it. It could only lead to regret.

Elizabeth loved Richard’s face. All angles and edges, it was very patrician, quite Romanesque. She’d always thought he looked like a pirate when his hair was queued and had imagined their early days of lovemaking as unleashed plundering. For he had been so much freer in those days. When had that changed? She knew the answer. When he’d become a father. She sighed heavily. Everything had changed with the arrival of their children.

His hair was not tied back now. It was free and as disheveled as any woman’s. She wanted to run her fingers through those dark strands, but she did not desire to wake him, did not wish to lose the moment. For surely she was dreaming. Richard could not be in her bed.

His green silk robe had slipped, revealing his sharp shoulders and his chest, his flesh pale beneath the dark patch of hair. She wondered if it was all he wore, and the thought of him almost naked pulled at her womanly parts. She vividly recalled the evening of the picnic where she had successfully seduced him. Memories of the fallout of that plan were like a splash of cold water, and she moved further away from him.

Elizabeth rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling, light flitting around the room as the sun shone through the branches dancing outside the window. Why was Richard here? Back at Thornwood Manor? In her bed? She could not do this anymore. The expectation. The anticipation. The agonizing disappointment. It all hurt too much. It was like being on the teeter-totter they’d made for the picnic. It was as though each time she was sitting high on the one end, Richard leaped off and let her slam to the ground.

She would get up and let Richard explain his presence in a less intimate setting. She put her hand to the mattress to gently ease away, but his hand covered hers. Her heart pounded as she glanced at him. He was watching her, the gold flecks in his eyes highlighted in the early-morning sun.

He softly stroked her wrist with his thumb. “Your heart races, Elizabeth.” He continued the gentle caress. “Do I make you nervous?”

She shook her head, unable to voice what shewasfeeling, not sure she even understood this visceral reaction warring with caution. Richard lifted her hand to his mouth, pressed a kiss to her palm, and returned it to the mattress. He continued his gentle stroking. It was such a simple gesture, but after all that had happened, it was everything. The need to bolt from the bed lessened. Instead, she shimmied to a sitting position.

“Why are you here?” she asked, adjusting her cotton nightgown with her free hand.

His caresses, slow and light as a feather, swept the sensitive flesh of her inner arm.

“You are a beautiful woman, Elizabeth,” he said, ignoring her question. “That has not changed despite the years and the fact that you have given me two sons.” He looked up at her face. “If anything, you are more so now than when I first saw you across the dance floor. The purity of your heart mingling with your womanly experience has deepened your beauty. You are both otherworldly and firmly rooted in this one.”

Elizabeth flushed with the compliment, but wariness continued to prickle beneath her skin. She searched his face for some sign of what he was about but could see nothing but sincerity. Richard was not one for artifice, but why this sudden change of heart?

He sighed heavily. “I see you are unsure.” He moved to a sitting position beside her. “You do not believe me. Or perhaps you do not believe in your own power.” He turned so his shoulder rested against the headboard and he was facing her. “Either way, it is my fault, and I owe you an apology for that amid the long list of my many sins.”

Elizabeth’s heart stalled. Was Richard about to confess his infidelity? Could she bear to hear him talk about another woman? She didn’t think so. “Richard—”

“Hush. Hear me out, for I have much to say. And much to apologize for.”

She sat back and stared at the fireplace. The chill running down her spine had nothing to do with its empty grate. She pulled the coverlet under her chin and turned to face him, bracing for his confession.

“I have been lying to you for months.” He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. “I don’t even know where to begin.” Richard pursed his lips as though coming to a decision. “I do know where to start. As much as I would like to avoid sharing this part with you, I must. I did have a mistress.”

Elizabeth’s heart sank, and her eyes stung with tears. As much as she’d known it, the truth was hard to hear. He grasped her covered shoulder, and she pulled away. She’d not have him touch her while he spoke of another woman.

Richard dropped his hand and sighed. “I met her when I was eighteen, fresh from Eton and new to London. I was achingly lonely, wallowing in dark misery after the loss of my mother. Patricia…”

He glanced at Elizabeth. He flinched at what he must have seen in her face at the use of another woman’s Christian name, for he apologized before continuing.

“Miss Paisley was as young as I but filled with light and laughter and knowledge of physical pleasure I had never known. I tell you this only so you know why I was drawn to have a mistress at all. Can you appreciate the appeal to a lad of eighteen?”

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