Page 79 of Love Abandoned

Chapter Forty

I have heard it

said, the fittest time to corrupt a man’s wife is

when she’s fallen out with her husband.

—Shakespeare,Coriolanus

Richard took hisbreakfast in a private room at the coaching inn. He’d spent a restless night upstairs. Knowing how close he was to Elizabeth had not helped matters. It seemed ridiculous not to sleep in his own home, which was near Sophia’s, but he’d not wanted to alert Elizabeth to his presence. How could he possibly explain it even were she willing to listen?

He looked forward to Walford joining him, which should be sometime early afternoon. He’d had no contact from Miller, nor had Richard attempted to reach out to the man. As far as he was concerned, the burden was on the Home Office and Miller to work out their part of this operation. Walford and Richard would go along with Sophia’s plan, one that would, hopefully, finally end this insanity and let him get back to his life.

His life. What would it look like now? He’d tasted the life he wanted and let it slip from his grasp. Sophia had dismissed his concerns, but he could not. Knowing Elizabeth remained on this earth must be enough. He hoped, with time, he could manage his hunger for her. It was said as a man grew older, his interest waned. Richard ran a hand through his hair. He was not yet thirty. It was going to be a long wait.

Richard headed to the stables and took Horatio out for a ride. He rode the hour to the edge of his estate, staring at the drive, wishing he could take it. Return home to the life that had ended two years ago. He thought ruefully of the proverb,If wishes were horses, beggars would ride. Richard turned Horatio, urging him into a gallop.

Horatio seemed as anxious as Richard to run from Thornwood Manor, and they covered the return to the inn far more quickly than he would have considered possible. He left the stallion with the groom and crossed the courtyard back to the inn. There was a definite increase in traffic, with an equal number of marked and unmarked carriages. It was far too early in the year for an exodus from the city. The social season was only beginning to get into full swing. Sophia’s masquerade was obviously a not-to-be-missed event. Not for the first time, he questioned her magnetic draw and the extent of her influence.

“Lord Walford awaits you in your rooms, my lord.” Mr. Bolton thrust his chin toward the stairs. “He insisted it would be fine with you.”

Richard took the stairs two at a time and threw open the door to the small sitting room. Walford turned from the window and grinned, a glass of sherry in hand. “It’s a bit like the old days back in Eton, don’t you agree?”

“The room or the impending deed?” Richard asked, tossing his hat on a table and shrugging out of his coat.

“Well, the room is as appealing as the one at school, but it is the adventure ahead I reference. We had our share, didn’t we?”

“We did,” Richard said, pouring himself a glass. He dropped onto an overly worn but comfortable chair. “But I do wish to be done with this particular adventure.”

“I thought you were through with it,” Walford said, taking the chair across from him. “Tell me about it. Sophia’s note was cryptic. Out of necessity, I assume.”

Richard shared his meetings with both Miller and Sophia, and Walford expressed the same surprise about Sophia’s involvement.

“She wouldn’t divulge how she came to her knowledge about Patricia or why she felt compelled to help out. But she’s not convinced everything is at it seems, and that is where you come in. She didn’t want me to be on my own.”

“Smart woman,” Walford said and leaned forward in his chair. “We must resolve this tonight, Thornwood. Catherine is too close to delivery, and I’ll not leave her again.”

Images flashed quickly through Richard’s mind. The night they’d snuck away from the party and Elizabeth had told him she was finally with child. The morning he’d watched as William had suckled for the first time. He’d been moved to tears. Her clever announcement of Sebastian’s impending arrival—a note tucked under his morning eggs. Dark memories quickly rushed in, blacking out the good, and Richard cleared his throat as he shoved them far back into a corner of his mind.

“And I’ll not ask you to. You must be at her side. Besides,” Richard said, running a hand through his hair, “regardless of what happens tonight, I must be done with it all. My business, parliament, the estate, they’ve all been neglected for too long.” He did not explain it was not solely the fault of the espionage but also his continued preoccupation with Elizabeth. He needed to put everything firmly aside and attend to business.

A tap at the door drew their attention, and Richard bade the person come in.

Mr. Bolton opened the door. “Packages for you, my lord.” He stood aside, and several footmen entered, depositing the paper-wrapped goods onto the settee. “The coach driver is having his dinner downstairs and has asked me to inform you he will be leaving at eight o’clock.”

Walford cocked an eyebrow at Richard as the door closed.

“An unmarked carriage and”—Richard gestured toward the settee—“our costumes. Sophia has always been a master at detail.” Richard chuckled humorlessly. “Now, Walford. To our plans.” Richard refreshed their sherries, and they reviewed their strategy.

Afterward, when Walford went to arrange for his horse to be brought later to Sophia’s so he might return directly to Woodfield Park, Richard stood at the window and watched him cross the courtyard. A small part of him fought envy. There was such joy ahead for Walford. But the larger part of him felt concern and an overwhelming sense of melancholy. The concern was for his friends, that it might not turn out as they dreamed. And the oppressive sadness? For himself. For Elizabeth. For the boys. That he could not be the man she needed, that they needed. He sighed heavily. Time enough to dwell on it all. Tonight he needed his wits about him.

*

“You cannot beserious!” Elizabeth backed away from the dress. Well, she could hardly call it a dress, since those consisted of actual material.

“Bella, you will make the men froth at the mouth like stallions.” Sophia held the dress in front of herself and swayed her hips back and forth, the strips of black silk swinging freely, exposing the deliberate, strategically placed rents in the white silk gown.

“My stockings will show if I move too quickly,” Elizabeth pointed out.

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