Page 31 of Love Abandoned

Chapter Fourteen

You cannot conceive how I ache to be with you: how I would die for one hour.

—Keats, Love Letter to Fanny Brawne

Marcus finished thelast tuck of Richard’s neck scarf and stepped back to admire his handiwork. A simple fold would have sufficed as far as Richard was concerned, but Marcus was imperious when it came to evening fashion. He held out a white waistcoat, and Richard slipped his arms into it, fastening the thread-wrapped buttons himself.

“The blue or the black, my lord?” Marcus dangled the two coats by their collars.

“Whatever you suggest, Marcus. Let’s get on with it. I’ll not keep Lady Thornwood waiting.”

“Of course, my lord. I would normally suggest the navy with your pale breeches, but I have it on good authority that this evening you will look much more striking in the black when beside the countess.”

Richard shrugged into the jacket. It had been a tedious night waiting at the club, and it had been followed by a frustrating day in chambers. They’d argued in circles over the establishment of a permanent paid police force in London and had been no further ahead when the day ended than when the session had begun. It was exasperating but not surprising. It had been that way since he’d first attended parliament. In actuality, the battle for such an extensive trained force had been fought and lost many times before he’d even become a standing member.

The longcase clock sounded, and Marcus knelt and held Richard’s black leather shoes steady as he slipped into them. He’d been on his feet much of the day, and the shoes fit overly snug. How had Elizabeth borne the pain in her feet? He’d not seen her, but Hastings had mentioned Wood had been and gone. He smiled. Richard hoped he’d gotten something right this dreary week.

He stepped into the hall. A light shone beneath Elizabeth’s door, and he could hear the slight murmur of voices. At least he was not late. He headed to the library to wait for her.

“Would you care for anything, my lord?”

“No, thank you, Hastings. I don’t believe we’ll be lingering this evening. Have the carriage brought around.”

Richard stared back out the window. A single oil lamp flickered dully at the entrance to the square across the road. It illuminated little, so blackness gaped beyond it and all around. A man stepped into its dim light, and Richard stiffened until he heard him shout the weather. A watchman doing his rounds. Having spent several nights near the boundary of the west end, he was grateful for their safe corner of London. The residents here had financially encouraged the parish to hire younger, abler watchmen. As a result, they’d not seen the break-ins and thefts some of his peers had encountered. It brought him comfort to know Elizabeth and the boys were well watched when he was not around.

He didn’t hear Elizabeth’s footfalls, but he saw her reflected in the window, and his heart fluttered like a young buck’s. He turned and smiled, taking her in. She was wearing one of his favorite ensembles. The lavender of her shawl did full justice to her eyes, which were alluringly lined this evening. Richard admonished himself instantly. Surely he could spend an evening with his wife and not lust after her every look, her every movement.

“You look wonderfully handsome this evening, Lord Thornwood,” Elizabeth said, returning his smile.

“And you are a marvel, Lady Thornwood,” he said and meant it. “Age seems to pass you by.”

She flushed becomingly and stepped fully into the room. He glanced at her feet, pleased to see a new set of slippers. When he returned his gaze to her face, her blush deepened, as did her smile.

“Thank you for the gift, Richard. You truly surprised me.”

“Then it was worth the effort,” he said, stepping up to her and brushing a kiss across her forehead. “I must confess, choosing fabrics for a woman’s footwear was a daunting endeavor. Mr. Wood was immensely helpful.”

She smelled of flowers and fresh fields. His mind flashed to life before the boys were born, to happier moments at Thornwood Manor. A particular rendezvous in the woods rushed through his mind and coursed through his body. He took a step back. They were memories best left in the far recesses of time.

“Your carriage, my lord.”

He crooked his elbow. Elizabeth placed her gloved hand on his arm, and they strolled into the entrance hall. He draped a soft velvet mantle over her shoulders and left her to fasten it at her neck, before turning and allowing Clarkson to assist him with his great coat. He tugged on his gloves, then assisted her down the steps and into the carriage before sitting across from her on the bench.

He watched her as Gordon placed a brass foot warmer in front of her. Her loveliness simply did not fade. If anything, she grew more beautiful. And elegant. She sat regally while Gordon adjusted the box for her comfort. When he was done, he closed the door and tapped the carriage. It jolted as it pulled onto the road. Elizabeth tugged her mantle closed.

“Are you cold?” he asked, grabbing the fur before she could answer. He leaned across and covered her lap, his hand burning where he touched her thigh. Richard sat back abruptly. He wanted nothing more than to sit beside her. To hold her. To do more than warm her body.

Hell and the devil confound it. He must observe the formalities if they were to have any relationship at all. He rubbed a hand over his face and averted his eyes, wishing the curtains were open for distraction. Would he never be free of her lure, of this aching draw toward her?

*

It happened again,and Elizabeth could not understand it. She had not imagined their connection, nor the interest in his lingering gaze. Yet he’d abruptly turned it off. They spoke pleasantries, and he was as polite—and as distant—as he would be to a stranger. She wanted to stamp her feet in frustration, to shout at him and demand an explanation. But the distance between them had only started to shorten, and she could not risk it. Instead, she remained equally civil and took his hand as she exited the carriage.

Coaches lined the street, and the queue was long. It took almost ten minutes to gain admittance to the townhome. They had talked amiably with Lord and Lady Anderson, who were ahead of them in line, and it helped prevent Elizabeth from fretting about Richard. She had seen no sign of the Walfords or Sophia. Hopefully they were well and good inside, out of the damp cold.

Rawley’s townhome was in keeping with the size of their own, although the Rawleys could enlarge their ballroom by opening it up to the large front drawing room, whereas theirs was not directly adjacent. Of course, it was all irrelevant. They’d not held such a large gathering in years, and if her progress in the carriage was any indication, there would be none in their future either. She sighed heavily.

“Are you still chilled?” Richard asked, leaning in closer.

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