Several footmen arrived carrying an ironstone footbath and several urns of water. They set them at her feet and stood nearby waiting for instructions, which Lucy was not adverse to issuing. Efficient, as always, she’d arrived with a basket full of medical supplies in hand.
“One hot and half of the cold, if you please.” Lucy watched as they poured. When they were through, she turned her attention to Elizabeth’s feet.
“Out with you all,” Hastings said. “Gordon, you wait outside the door for further direction.” He looked at Elizabeth, his brow furrowed. “My lady, have you need of anything, please have Lucy let Gordon know.”
“Thank you, Hastings,” she said and looked away, biting back a yelp of pain as Lucy guided first one foot, then the other into the water. The door clicked, and she knew they were finally alone. She let out a long hiss as Lucy swirled the water around her feet.
“My lady, however did you do this? I warned you those slippers were too snug, but I did not imagine they’d cause such damage.”
Elizabeth said nothing. The night’s harm was the accumulated result of wearing too many shoes that no longer fit properly. Her leather half boots had gotten wet when she’d been out at the park with William. They had chafed her feet and pulled at the nail. The slipper had merely finished it off.
Why did she insist on wearing them? It was not as though she could not afford new pairs. While many around her changed their wardrobes based on the whims of a handful of women who, each year, decided what was fashionable, she’d held steadfastly to her clothes from several seasons ago. Had she been too low-spirited to bother, or was she trying to hold on to happier times?
Lucy eased Elizabeth’s feet out of the water and set them on a drying towel. She covered them with another square of linen before going to the door. Gordon made no eye contact as he grabbed the basin. Settled, with the pain lessening, Elizabeth became increasingly aware of the awkwardness of the situation, feeling exposed even though her feet were hidden from sight. Of course, Gordon had already seen them bared. As had Hastings, Marcus, and the other footmen. For that matter, the entire assembly at the Argyll Rooms had had a good look at them and her stockingless legs. Now that the rush of activity had passed, she fully grasped the spectacle she’d made of herself. She flopped back on the sofa and groaned.
“Oh, my lady, do they hurt so much?”
“Not as much as my pride, Lucy. Not as much as my pride.” Elizabeth stared at the ceiling while Lucy applied salve and carefully wrapped her feet. When she was through, she helped Elizabeth up. “I’m fine, Lucy. Do go get me a warm cup of milk, though, and dismiss Gordon. I’ll need nothing further from him tonight.”
She waited for Lucy to leave before attempting a tentative step. A little unsteadily, though walking was doable, she hobbled through the sitting room and into her bedroom. Later, after she’d slipped into her night rail and Lucy had taken down, brushed, and capped her hair, Elizabeth lay again on her back, staring at the blackened ceiling. In her mind’s eye, she could see its vine-and-leaf cornice wrapping around, no beginning, no end. Which also seemed to be where she was with Richard.
When had this distance begun? She couldn’t remember, but she knew he’d not been drawn to her since Sebastian’s birth, and that was soon to be two years. In fairness, she’d been ill for a long time afterward, so relations hadn’t been possible. But his total disinterest? When had he lost his desire for her company, never mind her body?
All she knew was it must end. She’d thought she was well on her way tonight to breaking the stalemate, then he’d bolted. But not before she’d seen the spark. A spark she had every intention of fanning until it was a flame burning hot. She didn’t know how, but she was determined to have him back in her life…and in her bed.