Page 38 of Love Abandoned

“I would never describe you as such. You are an uncommon beauty, Elizabeth.”

She blushed becomingly but did not look away. Her eyes darkened, and he knew she was responding to his compliment as his body was responding to her presence. Richard wanted to slide in next to her and do wicked things until she screamed with release.Hell and the devil. He’d been spending too much time in brothels. He shifted uncomfortably and broke their gaze, grateful the carriage was slowing down.

He cleared his throat as Simon opened the door. Richard stepped out and took a deep breath of cool air before assisting Elizabeth. Her knowing look and the heat from her gloved hand did nothing to aid him in distracting his manhood’s attention.

“Oh, Richard,” she said, and her eyes glazed with tears. “You remembered.”

“How could I forget?” he said, presenting his arm. “It was the only time I had you to myself.”

The small tea shop was tucked down a side street. Popular with merchants, its pastries were exceptional, but that was not why they’d used to come here. Elizabeth’s mother had refused to allow her to join Richard without a chaperone. Except when they’d met others at Gunter’s, there’d been a constant shadow dogging their courtship. So they contrived a plan. He would pick her up, ostensibly to join others at Gunter’s. They would instead come here, where they could talk privately. They’d hold hands under the table, an indescribable thrill at the time.

“It was a wonder we were never caught out,” she said, her eyes clearing and the familiar mischievous look sparkling in the sunlight.

“I suspect she knew,” he said, “although I have no proof.”

“Do you?” Elizabeth smiled sadly. “I do hope so. I’d like to think she’s smiling down, pleased with herself for being the biggest trickster of the three of us.”

He opened the door to the shop, and a bell tinkled. No one looked their way except the mobcap-wearing maid behind the counter. She brushed at her apron, came around, and after glancing out the window, she curtsied, no doubt spotting the emblem on the carriage.

“The table in the back corner, if we may,” Richard said.

“Of course, my lord.”

Richard shook from his greatcoat and offered to take Elizabeth’s pelisse.

“It is a bit chill in here. I’ll keep it on.”

He hung his coat and hat on the nearby peg and sat across from her at the small table. The maid returned with a tray of pastries to choose from and listed several more that were in back. Elizabeth chose a plum cake, while he ordered several of the savory pastries and a fruit tart. He hadn’t noted until this moment that he was bordering on famished.

They waited patiently for the tea, chatting as if the last two years had never happened. Richard was glad for it. He’d missed her conversation as much as he missed her body.

“William will be pleased with his new pony. Should I guide him in naming her?” Elizabeth asked.

“I suspect he needs no guidance. The boy is well rounded and articulate already.”

Elizabeth frowned. “Sebastian’s speech concerns me. His vocabulary is so limited. William was much further along at his age.”

Richard reached across the table and covered her hand with his. “You worry far too much. Sebastian has no need to talk.”

Her frown deepened, and she tilted her head in question.

“He has William to do it for him,” he explained. “William often jumps in before Sebastian gets a chance to form a thought, never mind a word. I will speak with him about it, if you’d like.”

“No, I shall speak with him. And I’ll have a word with Hannah as well. I’m afraid if you do it, he will think he has disappointed you again.”

Richard listened while she explained why William had not groomed the pony the other day, surprised his words had weighed so heavily on the boy. He, too, must remember to think before he spoke. The tea arrived, and he reluctantly pulled his hand from hers.

“You look lovely.” He’d noticed her frock at once. With its soft green shade, the blue of her eyes, and her white-blonde hair, she was a walking pastoral painting—grass, sky, clouds. It seemed an apt comparison. She washisworld. His stomach churned, and he set the pastry back on the plate. He could not imagine a world without her in it, but he’d been forced to. Never again.

“Why do you not have more new dresses?” he asked, attempting to redirect his thoughts.

“I haven’t had the need.”

Her tone of voice was schooled politeness, but he heard the hurt. Guilt clogged his throat, and he coughed to clear it. “The new style suits you. I’d have you buy more.”

Her face went from downheartedness to happiness in the blink of an eye. A slight blush rouged her cheeks, and she smiled. “I’d enjoy some new gowns.”

They stayed to lighter topics for the remainder of their meal. The sun was ebbing when they stepped back outside.

---