Page 28 of Love Abandoned

Chapter Twelve

There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance; pray,

love, remember.

—Shakespeare,Hamlet

Richard was avoidingher again. He hadn’t returned to the aloofness of the past two years. Elizabeth would have surrendered—packed everything and removed to the estate—were that the case. Since Thursday, he’d been polite but hesitant, almost on edge, when they saw each other. Which did not happen for more than a few minutes before he’d dash from the town house, escaping to who knew where. For he certainly did not share his whereabouts with her.

She thought they’d made progress. A week ago, he’d held her in his arms and gallantly pushed his way through the crowded assembly room. And the night of Catherine’s soiree, they’d been relaxed together. Their growing connection had seemed a guarantee when they’d stood side by side in the nursery that night. She’d been so pleased to find him with William the next morning. But he’d received a message and left abruptly.

Elizabeth had tried to wait up that night but had surrendered before midnight. She’d lain awake until the clock rang out twice, and there still had been no sound indicating he’d returned. She’d awoken late the next morning. Lucy had assured her he’d returned safely, but he was already gone by the time she was dressed and presentable. Now, five days later, here she sat, alone again at the breakfast table, contemplating what was in the missive he’d received.

He’d not been the same since. She had never pried into his affairs before, but the temptation now was great. What had drawn him away, and why did it continue to impact on his presence? Or was she merely hoping his absence was due to external affairs and not from his disappointment in their relationship? It was too discouraging a notion to entertain.

Richard had always been kept busy chasing business concerns, and he was keenly involved in parliament. He enjoyed a good debate and was an advocate for laws and bills that supported a growing economy and the betterment of all citizens. He used to talk to her of the necessity for money to flow, not just among the wealthy but downward as well. He believed the country would flourish if more people were lifted up. He’d always had a social conscience, and she loved him for it.

That he was occupied with these things was not new. But he’d never been secretive about any of his business matters, nor his political opinions or causes. She’d scanned the paper each day but could see nothing that would demand his unending attention.

Conceivably, it could be the business dealings with Mr. Randall. She knew little about the new alliance, although she could not fathom why it would keep him from home so much. So it came back to avoidance. Of her. But what had she done to cause such a rapid reversal in his behavior? She sighed heavily. Men. She’d never understand them.

“Excuse me, my lady. A Mr. Wood is here with your shoes.”

“Show him to the small drawing room, Hastings.” Elizabeth set aside her chocolate and stood, checking to ensure there were no crumbs on her gown. She was surprised Mr. Wood had come himself. It was, after all, a single pair of shoes. As comfortable as they’d been, she’d be glad to shed the blue slippers. It was only her toe wrapped now, so the new ones should do nicely until it was fully healed. She sighed. Other shoes may soon fit again, but she knew she’d no longer be able to wear her favorite pair.

She strolled through the ballroom to the front of the house. Mr. Wood bowed politely when she came in, as did the young man by his side. Neither of them drew Elizabeth’s attention.

“I’m at a loss for words,” she said, not able to make sense of what she was seeing. “I ordered but one pair.” There were at least ten paper-wrapped packages.

“You did,” Mr. Wood said. “But Lord Thornwood ordered more. He has kept us very busy.” He threw his shoulders back, standing taller, his chest puffing out and his smile beaming with pride.

Richard? Richard had gone to the shoemaker? For her?

“Do sit down, my lady. I would see that each of these fit to your liking. The earl insisted upon your comfort.”

Elizabeth obeyed, too taken aback to speak. Each time she despaired of ever breaching Richard’s defenses, something happened to renew her optimism.

There were twelve sets in all, with only two needing adjustments. But it was the last pair that left her dumbfounded. They were exact replicas of the ones she’d been wearing at the ball when her toenail had torn.

“His Lordship said I should give you this pair last, and he wanted you to have this as well.”

Wood handed her a note and turned to wrap the pairs he needed to take back and modify. She unfolded the paper.

They hold a special memory for me too. For I once saw them on bended knee. R.

The note blurred, and Elizabeth smiled through her tears. That he remembered his proposal seemed a small miracle. That he recalled what she’d worn? It was a greater gift than the shoes. She need look no further for assurances her marriage was salvageable. The evidence was here in his words. All she needed was a plan to turn words into deed.

*

“Here,” Richard said,sliding the purse onto the bedside table. “This is for you. You need not share it with whoever it is you are garnering your secrets.”

He’d decided to accept reimbursement from Beckett and pass it on to Patricia. It was all he could come up with to help her out, at least a little. On their second meeting, he’d offered to move her out. Get her set up somewhere, temporarily, until she found a sponsor.

“And if I don’t? Will you support me until my hair is gray and beyond?” she’d asked.

It had been a fair enough question, and he’d paused, debating it, thoughts of Elizabeth and how she would feel mingling with this obstinate sense of obligation.

“I didn’t think so. I don’t want your charity, Thornwood.” Patricia had haughtily tossed her long red locks over her shoulder and held his gaze. “Besides, I may have a new sponsor soon.”

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