Page 4 of Love Abandoned

“Congratulations,” Elizabeth said politely, suppressing the emotions tumbling uncontrollably. Elation, fear, sadness. She’d felt them all with her second child and would do it all again if God were willing. But it seemed he was not. Nor was Richard. He would need to come within closer proximity to her for that to happen. She quickly examined the room again, then returned her attention to Catherine. “I had no idea. Sophia said not a word.”

“It was not my news to share,mia amica. And you said I could not keep a secret,” Sophia said, tapping Elizabeth’s shoulder playfully with her fan before turning back to Catherine. “So when will you begin your confinement?”

Catherine shrugged daintily. “In truth, I wish I already had. I am not well trained for these grand events, and now I find everything tiring. But Nicholas assures me our stay will be brief. And he enticed me with the promise of shopping for the baby. And for myself.” She glanced down at herself before continuing. “I will need more forgiving dresses before long.”

“You areperfetta,mia amica. Bellissima.” Sophia pinched her fingertips together, touched them to her lips, and kissed them, then opened her hand as though throwing the kiss into the air. “Do you not agree, Elizabeth? Is she not beautiful?”

“You are truly lovely, as you’ve always been.” Elizabeth’s rampant feelings were now firmly under control. She knew Catherine, squarely in the thrall of love, saw the baby as a symbol, a promise of endless possibilities for the future. As Elizabeth had when she’d carried William. And again with Sebastian. She hoped, for Catherine’s sake, the years ahead lived up to her every dream. Elizabeth would not wish her own past two years on anyone.

“And where is the handsome papa?” Sophia asked, glancing around the room, then returning her gaze to Catherine and raising an eyebrow. “And is he accompanied by friends? An Adonis who might be smitten by my womanly charms?” Sophia laughed and tugged at her dress, pulling the neckline lower than its already daring plunge.

“Sophia, behave,” Catherine said, laughing along with her. “As a matter of fact, he is with someone else who is also charming and good-looking. But I believe he will be immune to your charms as he is married to an absolute pearl.”

Sophia slumped theatrically back in her chair. “The best ones are always taken.”

“They are,” Catherine said in commiseration. “Oh look, here they come now.”

Elizabeth followed Catherine’s gaze. Lord Walford, with eyes only for Catherine, walked straight toward them like he was once again leading a battalion. At his side, looking more leisurely in form but keeping stride while acknowledging greetings, was the perfect gentleman. Her husband. Richard.

*

Richard Thornwood hadwaited an insufferable amount of time outside of the Argyll Rooms. Insufferable both because of the tedium of acknowledging each attendee as they went in and because he was going to eventually have to go in himself. He’d always found the games within these walls shallow and tedious, and the older he got, the less patience he had for them. But he’d seen the hope in Elizabeth’s eyes and had not been willing to dash it, so he’d begrudgingly conceded to the evening. At least this dance was being held as a benefit. His money would not be wasted for sheer vanity alone.

Why Walford insisted they meet here, he’d no idea. It would have been better to have met him elsewhere afterward. Unfortunately, Richard had gotten tied up in chambers and had not been able to escort Elizabeth himself. He’d scribbled a hasty note to her and sent Bentley in his stead. It had been an irksome rush to get home and change. He’d told Walford he’d catch him outside but had since decided the street was no place to talk. Of course, Walford didn’t know he’d changed his mind, so Richard had been waiting impatiently in the cold for him.

He looked up at the tall, bland building. Richard couldn’t possibly have the conversation he needed to have with Walford inside either. He sighed heavily. Elizabeth, no doubt resplendently beautiful, was waiting expectantly for him. This evening was proving to hold more artifice than he could manage.

“Thornwood!” Walford shouted as he came around the corner.

Richard dipped his chin in greeting, stuffing his impatience down. Walford could not possibly know how important it was for him to see him in private. He’d been deliberately vague, not anxious to put the meeting’s purpose in writing.

“Good to see you, old friend.” Walford thrust out his hand, and Richard shook it vigorously. “I was surprised to get your note but quite pleased. We haven’t talked since…”

Walford let the sentence drift. Their last meeting had been somewhat awkward, with family secrets oozing from the wood panels. Though, it had been an unusual and exciting distraction too. He’d never been party to capturing a culprit before. Would he be again now? Were there culprits in the game of war or merely players?

“Thank you for coming. Although, I did assume we would meet at the club.”

Walford grinned. “Yes, I thought you might. But Catherine has priority claim on me, and she wanted to see the countesses before we dash back to the countryside. It’s why she came earlier rather than wait for me to finish my business with the company.”

“Right. Congratulations on your purchase. It’s good you are so forward-thinking. Trade is frightfully lucrative right now, and I can’t see it changing for the foreseeable future.”

“I’ll take you to see some of the ships. Top of the line workmanship.” Walford glanced at the dwindling crowd. “We’d better go in. We’ve kept our ladies waiting far too long as it is. And Catherine will have my hide if we do not dance at least once.”

Richard fought the sharp pang of envy. He knew the look on Walford’s face. He’d worn it once himself. How could he possibly resent the man for being in love? Walford had been to hell and back on the continent, only to return to the loss of his only brother. He had a right to some happiness. Richard genuinely hoped life did not rob Walford of it as it had him.

The warmth of the assembly room was a stark contrast to the cold outside. The pungent smell of too many sweating bodies swirled with the heat. His gut churned, and he resisted the urge to run a finger under his cravat and pull it from his neck. He also fought the urge to look where he was headed, for he knew Elizabeth might be watching him. Instead, he focused on responding to those who greeted him even though he cared not a whit who was here. Elizabeth was the only person he cared about, but he forbade himself to dwell on her. Being in her presence was sometimes almost unbearable.

“My ladies,” Walford said smoothly but was obviously only addressing his own. His wife smiled sweetly in return.

“My ladies,” Richard echoed, quietly taking each of them in, setting his eyes on Elizabeth last. His gut turned. He could see the hurt in those blue eyes and the shadows under them no paint could conceal. He’d done that to her. She looked away, and he stiffened his shoulders. What was done was done. But it would not happen again.

“Lady Tessaro, if I may?” The Duke of Salinger held out his hand to the countess, without so much as a glance at Richard or Walford. Walford raised an eyebrow at Richard and was biting back a smirk. The duke was a pompous, dreadful bore and far too old for the countess, but if she regarded him as such, it didn’t show.

“Of course, Your Grace. It would be my pleasure,” she said pleasantly and rose to her feet. “Surely you will all join us?”

The question was directed at Richard, and in fact, it was patently not a question but an order. The woman never followed etiquette and expected others to flaunt it as well.

“With pleasure. Lady Walford?” Walford held out his hand, and his wife took it, her eyes only for him.

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