Page 94 of Love Abandoned

Elizabeth nodded, although she had no idea why he was sharing ancient history with her, unless it was the same woman? Dear God, had he kept her all through their marriage? Had even the early years been a lie? She wiped at her eyes, willing her tears to stay put. She’d not cry for such a betrayal.

“Oh, my dearest, I can see your thoughts play out across your face. I said goodbye to her the day I spied you across the ballroom. Before I’d even met you. Before I knew I stood a chance to become part of your life. I wanted you the first moment I laid eyes on you, and I cleared the path of any and all obstacles that might stand in my way.”

Elizabeth blew out a long breath, biting at her lip to fight the emotions flowing through her and threatening to spill out. At least their first few years together had not been a fallacy.

“It is that same woman you saw in my study.” He grabbed her arm as she pushed from the headboard, ready to leave. “No, Elizabeth, you are wrong, although I understand why you’re thinking what you’re thinking. Since I have known you, I have not, nor will I ever, be with another woman.”

Elizabeth stilled as those words sunk in.Have not. Will not.It did not explain his neglect, but he had not betrayed her. Her heartbeat returned to normal, and she turned to him, resting her shoulder back against the headboard, ready to hear him out. “Then what? Why?”

“What was Miss Paisley doing in my study?” He rubbed his forehead and looked at the ceiling before returning his gaze to her. “It is a fantastical tale, but I assure you it is the truth.”

Elizabeth listened to Richard talk of brothels and madams, of clubs and secrets hidden in a leather-bound book, of spies and allies, and of trying to help the woman move on to a better life. It was a lot to take in and make sense of, and she was overwhelmed and a bit confused.

“And why can you tell me of it now?” she asked when he finally paused.

“Because I am finished with it all. Last night we caught the culprit. He had threatened Miss Paisley’s well-being. Demanded a ransom for her return.”

“Oh no!” She sat up straight. Elizabeth did not know the woman but wished her no harm, especially knowing she had pulled Richard out of some dark days.

Richard smiled and touched her cheek. “There is my Elizabeth. Worried about a stranger. I assure you she is alive and well. In fact, she had never been kidnapped. I can’t share all the details, but last night we caught a traitor to the Crown at Sophia’s masquerade.”

Elizabeth felt the blood drain from her face as her stomach churned. Richard had been at the masquerade? Could he have seen her with the domino? It would seem she also had a confession to make.

“Richard,” she started, not knowing what to say. She had done no wrong, yet she now felt she had. Especially in light of his revelations. He’d been working for the government, trying to uncover a traitor, whereas she’d been wallowing in self-pity. “I was there last night,” she whispered.

“Were you?” He cocked his head to one side and studied her for a minute before speaking. “And did you enjoy yourself?” he finally asked.

“I did,” she answered honestly. “Until I didn’t. But I considered…” What could she say? That the domino had been alluring? That she’d liked the feel of his hands on her waist as they’d danced? That for a few heady moments she’d once again dreamed of possibilities?

“Oh, my sweet Elizabeth.” Richard pulled her to his chest. “You did no wrong. It is me and me only who has confessions to make. I pulled in a few carriages behind yours, and I saw you alight. You silly woman,” he said, kissing the top of her head, still holding her snug. “No mask. I would have known you anywhere, but to step out at a masquerade, unaccompanied and undisguised?” He chuckled softly. “I love that you do not know how to behave at such events.”

She adjusted her position so she could see him better. She wanted to trace his lips, to taste him once again, but none of what had been shared tonight changed the fact that he did not, would not spend time with her as her husband. So she stuck with the masquerade, too afraid to ask about them. About their future. Too afraid to destroy this new fragile bond.

“I did not see you.”

“Au contraire, my love, you did.” He gently ran his fingers along her braid and moved it so it draped over her left shoulder. “I would be your protector this evening, should you wish it.”

It took a few seconds for his words to sink in. When they did, she shoved his chest, frantic to get away from him. “You! You were the domino?” Her face burned. “You have made a fool of me!”

He let her go, and she fell back on her bottom. He looked pained, and she could see hurt darken his eyes. “No,” he said quietly. “I am the fool. In truth, I should have been dressed as a court jester, as I have made a mockery of our marriage. I’m not sure I can ever make you understand why.”

“Try,” she said, his contrition extinguishing her ire.

He took both her hands in his and raised them, pressing a kiss to each. “First, may I ask a question? You don’t have to answer it if you don’t wish to.”

“Yes.” She watched as he seemed to search for his words.

“The masquerade. It is not the type of gathering you attend. Last night I sensed your draw to me. Well, not to me—to the domino. Did you seek revenge for my neglect?” He quickly raised her hands and kissed them again. “I would not blame you.”

“No,” she said, swallowing emotion. She had never considered revenge. She’d gone because she was lonely. So damnably lonely. “I could not sit here another night, imagining you in London with that…with…” She shook her head. She could no longer think hatefully of the woman. “I wanted to feel.” Feel what? Feel anything except the pain he’d created. It was the raw truth, but she could not wound him with it now. Not when it seemed she was closer to discovering his truth. “I wanted to feel free of melancholy, if only for the night.”

He dropped his head to her chest. She held him tightly, agonizing over the pain she was now causing him. She had not set out to hurt him. She’d believed he wouldn’t care. She would never hurt him. She ran her fingers through his hair and massaged his scalp. They sat that way for some time, each lost in their thoughts.

Eventually he raised his head, his eyes glazed, his gaze regretful. “We may not be able to fix us at all.”

She stiffened in response. What was he saying?

“My apologies may not be enough. That you would even entertain the idea of another tells me how low I have come, how dreadfully lonely I have made you.” His eyes seemed washed in pain, not anger.

---