“Champagne?” Holding up the bottle he waited for her reply.
“Yes, please,” Elizabeth said politely, too politely. Edward hated this game. What he wouldn’t do to go back to their carefree relationship they’d once had.
After filling both glasses, he sat back and drained his, forcing himself not to cough as the bubbles filled his throat and nose.
“May I serve you?” Elizabeth opened a covered dish and paused.
“That would be nice, thank you.”
He couldn’t for the life of him know the contents of the dishes. He ate, but tasted nothing. The sight of her taking little bites here and there between her lush pink lips mesmerized Edward. Since when had eating become an erotic experience? Edward swallowed groan after groan and damn if his cock wasn’t peeking out the top of his breeches. He’d long since unbuttoned his waist coat and untucked his shirt. Pushing his stiff member back inside his breeches, he swore when his finger came in contact with some discharge. If he sat here in her presence much longer he’d embarrass himself by coming inside his clothes.
“I believe there is desert and sherry by the hearth.” Elizabeth met his eyes with an apologetic smile.
Did she think his time with her was something she needed to apologize for? He wanted her beyond reason. Nothing would happen, though, until she wanted him back.
Before he could make his way around the table, she stood and strolled in the direction of the fireplace and took a seat on a chaise, leaving a matching chair for him.
REMOVING THE METAL cover from a dish, Elizabeth hoped Edward didn’t notice the quivering of her hand. Oh great! Strawberries and clotted cream. A favorite of hers, but she’d restrain. Eating dinner had unsettled her to no end. Edward had eyed her the entire time over his crystal flute with hunger in his eyes. Hunger for her, not food. He’d practically undressed at the table, and once she could’ve sworn he reached down to do something. Heat sufficed her cheeks at the thought he’d touched himself. If any more moisture pooled between her thighs, it would soak her night rail and dressing robe. How embarrassing.
She was thankful she was no longer a virgin, as it had her better prepared for this night. Something she didn’t need to be frightened of. Only of losing her heart to her husband...again. Something Elizabeth didn’t think she’d survive a second time. Giving her heart and then having it ripped from her chest upon learning something nefarious from his past again would crush her. Feeling chilled, she pulled a blanket over her body up to her chest and settled her eyes on her handsome husband’s profile. Something appeared to be ruminating around in his mind. Something causing him distress. Was she the cause of his stress?
“You appear preoccupied this evening, Edward. Are you not pleased with our union?”
“Forgive me.” He turned his head to meet her eyes. “There is much on my mind.”
His hazel eyes swirled with so many emotions, pain, regret, and a touch of guilt. They were both miserable. Miserable with sexual awareness, longing, and how to forgive and move on. At least she struggled with the forgive and move on part. Nothing would please her more than to go and sit on Edward’s lap, curl into his body and love him. Damn her pride. Not just stubborn pride, her heart shuddered—fear. She was afraid of rejection.
“There is nothing to forgive,” Elizabeth said past the lump in her throat. “Perhaps you will have a better day tomorrow.”
“Yes. Perhaps.” He rose to his feet slowly, wincing, and nodded his head. “I will leave you to your rest.”
I will leave you to your rest. Was he daft? There would be no rest tonight. Sitting up, she took a large berry, dipped it in cream and ate it with great relish then licked her fingers in a most unladylike fashion afterwards. Why not, no one could see her. Elizabeth ate another and another until she removed her robe and climbed beneath the counterpane. Lying on her back with her arms outside the covers she huffed, to keyed up to sleep. This was her wedding night. Her one and only wedding night and she lay in bed alone. Abruptly, she rolled onto her side, hugged her stomach, and sobbed into her pillow.
THE LOW BLAZE IN THE hearth in the library caused shadows to bounce off the paneled walls. Edward enjoyed the solitude and darkness. He rested in a large comfortable chair, his bare feet on an ottoman, not that he could feel them, they’d gone numb an hour ago. A nightly and sometimes daily occurrence. A brandy snifter cradled between his thumb and forefinger. His mouth twisted up into a grin. He couldn’t believe during dinner he’d thought about swiping the food off the table and taking his lovely Elizabeth right there. Too bad he hadn’t acted on his impulses.
They would be in bed wrapped in each other’s arms now. Warm, naked body against warm, naked body. He was an idiot who deserved to be in Bedlam for the way he’d left her—lounging, looking angelic in white.
His heart? That entity of its own needed her heart for his to survive. He had so much to atone for he didn’t know where to start. He should go to her now. Tell her how much he loved her, needed her, and couldn’t live without her. Beg her forgiveness for his past transgressions and anything he may do in the future. Put his heart and soul in her hands and pray she didn’t crush them.
The pitter-patter of soft footsteps near the doorway alerted Edward that he was no longer alone. “Is someone there?”
The voice of his beloved called out softly, “Yes.” Her voice all breathy soothed him instantly.
“Please, join me by the fire.”
Softly, on bare feet, she took the identical chair next to his, separated by a small table. He reached for the throw blanket on the back of his chair and handed it to her. Damn, he should stand and cover her himself, but he didn’t trust his legs to support his weight and his cane was leaning on the settee out of his reach. Poor place for it.
“Could you not sleep?” he inquired—his voice resonating deeper than he’d expected.
“No. I thought I would find a book to read. I usually read at bedtime. It helps my body and mind relax so I can sleep.”
“I know what you mean. I do the same thing.” Edward held up the book of poems on the side table. “It didn’t keep my interest tonight.”
“Do you usually read in here and not in your room?”
“Yes. And if I fall asleep, all the better as I prefer to sleep in a chair. Or at least propped up with numerous pillows in bed.”
“Isn’t it awkward?”
“No to me.” Perhaps he shouldn’t have said anything. She might ask more questions. He knew he needed to confide in her, but the truth was, he was afraid. Afraid she might leave him when she learned the truth about him.
“Why don’t you pick out a book and I’ll escort you back to your room.”
A quarter hour later, after Elizabeth had inspected numerous books, she gasped and plucked one off a middle shelf. A shelf that held his mother’s gothic novels. Turning she hugged it to her chest and smiled. “This is my favorite book. The Mysteries of Udolpho by Ann Radcliffe.”
His pulse spiked. “It was my mother’s favorite as well. I think you will see how many times she read it by the wearing of the spine.
“Oh, would you like me to pick something else?”
“No,” he said quickly. “My mother would’ve been honored to know my bride had things in common with her.” Sadness crept into his voice. It couldn’t be helped.
Draining his glass, he placed it on the table. Using the palm of his hands, he smacked his thighs and calves, trying to force feeling back into his legs so he could stand. It was regrettable Elizabeth would see, but he could hardly escort her to her rooms without feeling in his legs.
Elizabeth’s eyes widened as she hurried to his side. “What are you doing? You’re going to injure yourself.”
Ignoring her, he stood and willed his legs to move. Torturously, he moved one step at a time toward his cane. Nearly there...three more steps...two. As if in slow motion and without any control at all, his legs buckled and his body crashed to the ground—half landing on the settee and half on the carpet.
“Edward,” Elizabeth screamed and dropped to the ground beside him. She looked positively aghast as she grabbed his arm and helped him to sit. “What happened?”
“Milord?” Gerard’s voice came from the opened doors. “Do you need assistance?”
“No. I’m fine.” No matter how many times he told Gerard or Stephens—who took turns watching out for him—to go to bed, they hovered around him at night. Their loyalty and concern touched him, and his throat burned.
“Goodnight then, milord, milady.”
ELIZABETH COULDN’T breathe. Seeing Edward collapse took decades off her life. Ever since Elizabeth had entered the library he’d acted stranger than usual. When he began beating his legs she didn’t know what to think. Had he gone mad? Was he drunk? He hadn’t acted or sounded in his cups.
Sitting next to him now, listening to his heavy breathing, frightened her. He started punching his thighs, she grabbed one of his hands and said, “Please, you are frightening me.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to.”
“Please stop that.”
His other hand stilled and he settled against the back of the settee.
“Talk to me please.” Her heart pounded, tears clogged her throat and stung her eyes. Without thinking of anything but his comfort and safety, Elizabeth wrapped one arm through Edward’s and snuggled close to his side, her head resting against his shoulder. Her other hand rested on his chest, covering his heart. After a time, the erratic beat of his heart seemed to calm and his breathing evened out.
“I’m sorry.” He turned his head and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
Tears trickled down Elizabeth’s cheeks, and she didn’t bother to wipe them away. When they pooled on her lashes, she blinked, forcing them down her cheeks and her vision cleared. At least until it started all over again.
“There are still things you don’t know about what happened to me after the accident.” He rubbed the top of her head with his cheek. “I explained to you how I broke my back and struggled for many months to learn to walk again. What I neglected to tell you was that due to the injury to my spine, my condition is getting worse. Ever since the accident, I get severe pain in my lower back and down the outside of my legs—like a blade sliding up and down my leg. After, numbness sets in, and I must sit or lie down for long periods of time.”
“But...how have you hidden this?”
Exhaling, he continued. “It was difficult. Whenever I’m home I use a cane. I never socialized all that much unless I accompanied Wentworth or Myles. They know I use a cane when in the privacy of my home, but even they do not know how desperate I’ve become. I have exercise equipment in my old rooms that help to strengthen my back and legs. It appears to not be working very well anymore. Anyway, lately the pain and numbness have been progressing. I’ve been unfair to you. I should’ve told you. I will understand if you want an annulment.”
She gasped, rose up on her knees on the settee, and got close to his face with hers. “There will be no annulment. I’m your wife, your marchioness, and I’m not going anywhere. You are stuck with me. Besides, my brother would never let me back inside the house. He was so thankful someone was willing to marry me. You will not get rid of me. We will deal with this. Find a specialist. When was the last time you saw one?
“Last week. He told me the same thing he always does. Strengthen my back, use the cane, take laudanum for pain. Fight through the numbness and get rest. He also said perhaps it is time for a chair with wheels.
A sob escaped Elizabeth’s mouth before she could stifle it behind her hand. Edward’s eyes widened, and with a horrified expression, he pushed her aside and stood with his cane this time and made his way toward the door.
“Wait,” she cried. “Wait.”
Chapter Sixteen
Wait. Edward would wait an eternity for her if only he were whole. Enough of that. He scolded himself as he heard soft footsteps draw near his side as he approached the marble staircase.
“May I help you?”
Before he could answer she wrapped her arm around his free one. The one meant for the bannister. He allowed it and with a fair amount of discomfort they ascended the stairs and made their way to her chamber door.
“Please, will you join me? There are things we still need to discuss,” Elizabeth said softly.
Waiting for his response, she moved to her bed and piled pillows against the headboard for his comfort and hers. “Do you need assistance?”
“Christ no,” he scoffed and climbed on the bed, leaning against the pillows and sighing. Damn it felt good to be in bed. His eyes found Elizabeth’s, and his heart dropped at the look of uncertainty on her face. He padded the space beside him. “Join me.”
Instead of sitting on the covers as he had, she climbed beneath them but rested her head on the same pillow as his, awaking his lust.
“Can you explain things to me now?” More soft spoken words from his wife. But he knew, even though they were spoken in a question, she wanted answers and she wanted them tonight.
However, instant pain jabbed his scull whenever he thought about his past. Elizabeth deserved to know everything. And once she heard all, she could make the decision to forgive him and be his wife or not. The choice was hers and hers alone to make.
“For years I used laudanum for the pain after the carriage accident. I didn’t abuse it at first, but it didn’t take long to build up a tolerance for it. Because the affects were slight on me, I could dose myself and go out to a ball or one of my clubs or even riding in Hyde Park and no one knew.” He took her hand and laced their fingers together—hers soft and warm, his hard and cool.
“Right after I became betrothed to Lady Beth, which proved a disaster from the start...”
“May I interrupt?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve always wondered why you asked her to marry you and how it ended without much scandal to either of you?”
Great. Another chapter in his life that embarrassed him. “You have to understand, Wentworth and Myles had traveled to America and left me alone. I know what you’re thinking, that I’m a grown man, I can be alone. Well, they’d watched over me since my family’s death, and I’d become part of both their families. I didn’t know how to be alone. Something I learned quickly though. One night I think I dosed too much laudanum and found myself out on a terrace with Lady Beth after dancing a set with her. Something came over me, and I blurted out a marriage proposal. I was shocked beyond words when she answered yes.”
“She is lovely.”
“Is she? I hardly noticed. It doesn’t matter now since she is married to an American and living in Boston. Happily, I hope. She deserves it for what I put her through. Anyway, that same night I was taking a dose in a dark hallway and a couple stumbled upon me. Before I could work up mortification, they noticed the vile and invited me to a private party...”
“The Red Poppy,” Elizabeth interjected.
“Yes. There are others, but the Red Poppy caters mostly to the higher classes. I went. Got turned on to opium, a purer form of laudanum. That first night I sat in a chair and watched, drugged out of my mind, but I knew it was a den of iniquity. People left propriety and morals at the door.”
Elizabeth squeezed his hand. “I still cannot believe places like that exist for people of the ton. Every time I attend a function I’m going to be looking around wondering.”
“For the most part, you will never guess correctly.” He sighed in disgust at himself. “Would anyone think it of me?”
“No.”
“There is your answer.”
“Will you tell me who attends?” she asked.
“No. Knowing will do you no good. Hypothetically, let’s say one of Myles’s sisters is being courted by a gentleman I know to attend, I would have a private word with Myles. He would need to know, but you, my dear, do not. Not unless some fool pays too much attention to you. In no uncertain terms would I allow such a thing. Nor would I allow it, if you became quite fri
endly with a lady who belonged. We are getting off topic.”
“Please continue.”
“At an opium den, people lose their morals, their inhibitions and their clothing. I regret to say I experimented with orgies.” His insides stilled at hearing Elizabeth gasp. Edward swallowed loudly and forged on. “If you think other men were involved, let me tell you now they were not. I may have gone to bed with three or four women at once, but I drew the line at men. Thank God parts of my brain still functioned. My involvement lasted perhaps a month before it disgusted me.”
“Good.”
“So when the lady approached me at the masquerade, we hadn’t spoken to each other for nearly two years. Not since the last time I attended the Red Poppy. Actually, I was shocked she remembered me. Drugs and time have a way of making people forget all sorts of things, people and places.” He turned so he could look into her eyes. “From the first time I met you, I’ve been with no one.”
“Is there more?” she asked, her voice hesitant and her eyes soft with compassion.
“Yes. I don’t believe I ever told you about the time Wentworth and Myles saved me. One night I took too much. Stephens found me in my study unconscious. He sent for the doctor and for my friends. They helped me withdraw from the drug and kept me alive when I begged for death. Tried to end it.”
Her eyes widened with shock and her mouth opened, but no words or sound escaped.
“After two weeks and the help of very watchful friends, I’m the man you see here today. Although to say I was cured after two weeks would be a lie. I struggle with opium and wanting it to this day. But believe me when I say, I will never touch the stuff again as long as I live.”
“Thank you for being honest.” Elizabeth paused, looking uncertain as to what she wanted to say next. “What about Lady Beth?”
“Oh, yes, I truly didn’t know what happened except her father called the betrothal off. It was sometime later that Wentworth admitted to going to the man and begging him to end it. Wentworth believed the stress of my betrothal had led to my downfall.”
The Spencer Sisters Forbidden Loves and Broken Hearts Page 16
