by Donna Hatch
The clock chimed half past eleven. Midnight dinner would be served soon. She had guests and responsibilities she’d neglected while she lapsed into self-pity, and now she must take her place as hostess.
She pushed herself up. A glance in the mirror revealed her swollen face and disheveled hair. Commanding herself to take control over her sensibilities, Elizabeth rang for Maggie and washed her face. Maggie arrived, and after only a briefly startled pause at Elizabeth’s appearance, immediately went to work packing her eyes with cold, lavender-scented compresses and restyling her disheveled hair without comment. By the time Maggie had finished working her magic, Elizabeth had regained her composure.
She arrived in the ballroom moments before the supper dance. As the last strains of the music ended, she spotted Tristan, handsome and maddeningly smug, glancing slyly across the room at his coquette. Flush-faced and radiant, she fanned herself,. Did the widow know she would never have possession of Tristan’s rakish heart? Did she care?
Tristan swaggered up to Elizabeth and offered a bow, his eyes glittering with mischief. Elizabeth wanted to demand if he’d enjoyed his rendezvous with the widow, but couldn’t bring herself to form the words. She didn’t want to know. The scoundrel.
“Will you stand up with me for the dinner dance?” Tristan’s disarming smile would not be refused.
Accepting would be easier than refusing, and she had no fight left in her. Cursing herself a fool for being civil to such a callous womanizer, she placed her hand in his. He moved with sinewy grace as he led her through the steps. As they danced, he smiled, teased, and laughed. Her heart filled with such heaviness over Richard’s sound rejection, and the further proof that she had never meant anything to Tristan, that she could hardly manage a faint upward lift to her mouth.
As they reached the end of the line, waiting for the dance pattern to draw them into the sequence again, Tristan eyed her. “What’s troubling you?”
She tried to smile but it probably came out as a grimace. “Nothing worth mentioning.”
His dark gaze passed over her but she avoided eye contact and made a point of adjusting her gloves. They began dancing their way back up the line, ending any hope of a serious conversation.
The dance ended and supper began. He led her to the dining room where the midnight dinner, which rivaled their wedding feast, was served. Richard sat at the head with one of the county’s grande dames at his side. Elizabeth sat at the foot next to Tristan.
Tristan smiled at Elizabeth, his gaze darting over her as if searching her face for answers. “What a fetching sense of style you’ve developed, Elizabeth. If you’d come to London wearing such a lovely gown, the ladies would copy your designs en masse.”
Forcing herself to behave with the decorum worthy of a duke’s daughter and an earl’s wife, she lifted her head higher and coaxed her lips into a more sincere smile. “You’re too kind.”
“Tell me what you’re reading these days, Elizabeth.”
She shrugged, unwilling to reveal the few precious, intimate moments that she’d read to Richard and to the little maid. “I haven’t had much time to read of late what with running a household—and designing new styles, of course. You?”
“One of my new favorites is Robert Burns, the Scotsman. Goes by Robbie among friends.” Tristan leaned back, and with a languishing eye fixed directly upon Elizabeth’s face, he began to quote:
“My love is like a red, red rose,
That’s newly sprung in June
My love is like the melodie
That’s sweetly played in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in love am I:
And I will love thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry.”
Elizabeth forced herself to break gaze with him. Tristan seemed to recite those words with such poignancy. He couldn’t mean them. He’d never meant them. He only appeared sincere because he was a skilled libertine.
She glanced at Richard at the far end of the table, but he never looked her way. Tristan continued to regale her with his infectious charm, and by the time dinner ended, her heart ached more than ever.
An impenetrable barrier stood between her and the one man who seemed, at least on some level, to want her. Despite Tristan’s faults, despite her disillusionment over his affections for her, he still made her laugh, still made her feel important, even desirable, but Tristan no longer made her pulse throb. She’d married a man who didn’t desire her, who barely acknowledged her existence, and his signs of disloyalty wounded her so much more deeply than the evidence of Tristan’s true colors. She wanted to weep at the injustice.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Richard made it through dinner without tasting a bite of the food he swallowed. His wife sat at the foot of the table speaking with Tristan as if they were the only two people present.
When she and Tristan had both disappeared within minutes of each other, even using different exits so as to appear innocent, Richard had tried not to jump to conclusions. However, nearly an hour later, when Elizabeth returned with her hair restyled without a strand out of place despite dancing, and Tristan reappeared so smug and swaggering, not to mention their intimate postures at the other end of the table, Richard had to admit it. He’d been betrayed—right under his nose. Whatever guilt had smote him when Leticia kissed his cheek evaporated in the sickening truth of his wife’s perfidy.
Each time he thought of it, his anger grew until he thought he’d erupt like a volcano. He must take action. Immediately. He made a quick gesture to a nearby footman.
As the footman leaned over to listen, Richard spoke softly. “Have my brother’s carriage prepared to leave as soon as possible.”
The footman nodded and left to carry out his orders. At last, the final course was served and consumed. As guests left the table and migrated back into the drawing room, Richard moved to intercept Tristan.
Under his breath so as not to be overheard by his guests, he grabbed Tristan by the arm and said into his ear, “You. Out. Now.”
Tristan blinked in surprise but let Richard manhandle him to the front door. “What is it?”
Shaking in rage, Richard literally threw Tristan outside.
Tristan staggered under the force of his shove then, steadying himself, turned back. “Wha…”
His wounded expression almost broke through Richard’s cold anger but the thought of Tristan’s sin fortified his determination. He’d feared from the beginning that Tristan and Elizabeth would cuckold him, but facing the reality of it left his insides in shreds.
Tristan, of all people. To think his own brother would sink so low, even after vowing he wouldn’t…
When Father died, Richard had only his brother and sister. He had almost dared hope he would find a true ally in a wife. Now he had no one. Utter loneliness opened up and swallowed him.
The carriage he’d ordered waited nearby, the tack jingling each time the horses stamped. Two mounted outriders waited ahead, showing no signs of irritation that their master had ordered them to ride in the middle of the night. The coachman and footman also stood by, their gazes fixed discreetly away.
Richard brushed off his hands as if Tristan’s coat had sullied them and turned back to his treacherous brother. “Go. Now.”
“What is going on?” Tristan looked for all the world as if he had no idea what he’d done to anger Richard.
Richard glowered. “You come near my wife again and I’ll tear off your head. Do not ever step foot in this house.” To the coachman he said, “Take him to his flat in London. Then return.”
Before anyone could reply, he re-entered the house. His fists clenched, itching to punch a hole through a wall. If only he could and then go for a long run. He paused inside the great hall, drawing deep breaths. He would deal with Elizabeth later, when he wasn’t so tempted to throw her out as well. He had promised to take swift action, meaning divorce her, if she’d cheated on him. At the time, he’d meant it as a th
reat to keep her in line. He hadn’t actually intended to do it. What to do now?
The scandal of a divorce would eclipse the scandal of a cheating wife. Nonetheless, to live under the roof with her, knowing what she’d done…
He had guests. He must play the charade until the night’s end. Gritting his teeth, he returned reluctantly to the ballroom.
Just inside the doorway, one of the guests approached him. “My lord. I need your help. My bracelet is missing. I fear it’s been stolen.”
Could this night get any worse? Richard stared in dismay at the lady who stood before him. “Are you sure? Might it have slipped off?”
“I don’t know. I only know I had it moments ago. Now it’s gone.”
Richard pressed his fingers to the center of his forehead where a headache built. Apparently, one of Elizabeth’s reformed servants hadn’t truly reformed. “Very well. I’ll conduct a search.”
She nodded. “It’s a family jewel, Lord Averston. I’d be most grateful to have it restored.”
“Of course.”
After she gave him a description of the bracelet, she returned to the ballroom. Discreetly, Richard summoned both the head housekeeper, Mrs. Brown, and Handley, the butler, and informed them of the theft.
Mrs. Brown nodded, her expression smug. “That’s what happens when you trust one of them.”
Handley offered no comment.
Richard fixed a stare upon them each in turn. “Choose a very few trusted servants and have them help you conduct a search. Above all, be discreet. We don’t want to alarm any of the guests.”
They both went to do as instructed. Richard rested his forehead on the wall.
First Leticia, then Elizabeth and Tristan, and now this. Clearly, this was some kind of punishment for a past misdeed.
After a bracing drink, he stayed visible in the ballroom and hoped no one would see through his façade. He tried to keep his tone light and his smile in place when every nerve in his body urged him to race outside and run until he collapsed.
Only moments later, Mrs. Brown caught his attention. He nodded, then, moving in a casual manner through the crush and speaking with people as he went, met the housekeeper in the passageway leading to the kitchen.
A footman named Foster, and the butler, Handley, held the normally jovial footman, Cooper, by the arms. Cooper’s customary grin was replaced by wild panic.
As soon as Richard arrived, Cooper began sputtering, “’Tain’t me, milor’. I didn’ even know nuthin’ was stole’.”
Richard raised a brow at Handley and Mrs. Brown.
Handley cleared his voice. “The bracelet was found in the pocket of a coat underneath his bed.”
Cooper interjected, “I didn’ pu’ it there, milor’, I swear it.”
Richard eyed him coolly. “Then explain how a stolen bracelet ended up in your pocket under your bed.”
“Someone musta pu’ it there t’ throw off anyone searchin’ fer it, then intended to go back fer it when it was safe’. I didn’t steal it, milor’. I swear.”
“What’s amiss?” Elizabeth approached, eyeing them all in unease. “Cooper?”
Cooper turned to her as if she were his only hope of salvation. “M’lady. They think I stole a bracelet but I swear I didn’.”
“Well, of course you didn’t.” She turned to Richard. “I trust Cooper implicitly. He’d never steal, especially not from us.”
Richard’s temper almost snapped. He rounded on her and fought to keep his voice level, not only for the theft which she indirectly caused, but her indiscretion tonight. “He was a pickpocket before he came here.”
She raised her chin. “He has reformed.”
Mrs. Brown sniffed. “I always knew that sort couldn’t be trusted. Give them enough temptation, and they’ll always return to their old ways.”
Truer words were never spoken.
Elizabeth’s eyes flashed. “Don’t you believe people can change? Don’t you believe in second chances?”
“Not where valuables are concerned,” Mrs. Brown shot back.
Elizabeth drew herself up in indignation. “Your impertinence, Mrs. Brown—”
“She’s right and you know it,” Richard interjected.
Elizabeth recoiled as if he’d struck her and she stared with her mouth open while the color drained out of her face. Guilt stabbed him. He’d sabotaged her standing with the servants. But what did that matter? He was finished with the lying wretch.
Mrs. Brown nodded to punctuate her point. “Next thing, one of us will wake up with our throats cut.”
Richard returned Elizabeth’s gaze. “We must summon a constable and turn him over to the magistrate.”
Elizabeth practically threw herself in front of Cooper like a shield. “You will do no such thing. He’s innocent and I demand time to clear his name.”
Behind Elizabeth, Cooper’s shoulder hunched and his face crumpled. “I don’ wanna cause trouble wi’ you and yer man, m’lady.”
Elizabeth made no reply. As if daring Richard to go through her, Elizabeth squared her shoulders and stared back at him, her chest heaving in an anger to match his own.
Fisting his hands, Richard turned from her and addressed the servants. “We have guests. Take him to the cellar and lock him up for the night. We’ll decide what to do in the morning.”
The servants took a defeated Cooper away, leaving Richard and Elizabeth locked in silent battle. Rage simmered in Richard’s gut as Elizabeth brazenly stared him down without a trace of the cowed girl he’d agreed to marry.
Her voice shook. “How. Dare. You.”
Richard’s control shattered. “How dare I? How dare you, madam? How dare you bring pickpockets and cutthroats into this house to endanger our guests? How dare you disregard the advice of a housekeeper who has protected and served my family since before I was born? How dare you have a tryst with my own brother right in front of my nose!”
“What?” She widened her eyes and took a step backward.
She was acting, of course, but certainly played the part convincingly. In what other ways had she deceived him?
Shaking in barely controlled rage, Richard fairly shouted, “Tristan returned strutting like a peacock after your hour together. And you? Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” He gazed with disgust upon her freshly coiffed tresses as he tried to regain control of his voice. “Your face flushed, and your hair re-styled. Then you had the audacity to choose him for a dinner companion. Have you no discretion?”
With her eyes enormous and her hair softly framing her face, Elizabeth looked every inch a temptress. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I can’t believe you’d think that of me. I merely—”
“Don’t. Do not insult me further by telling me you were out for an innocent stroll with him.”
She fixed an unblinking stare upon him, a depth of sadness entering her eyes that gave him pause. “Like your stroll with Leticia Wentworth?”
Elizabeth had seen them together, alone, in a dark garden. As the horrifying realization slapped him in the face, the blood rushed out of his head so fast that the room swam.
Her chest heaved. “I saw you in the garden kissing her, doing the same thing that I was caught doing with Tristan at the house party. You got away with it. I was condemned.”
She took a step nearer. “You speak often of honor, and yet easily cast it aside when it pleases you. It’s truly ironic that you constantly question my purity but have your own set of morals. Oh, you and Tristan make quite a pair, don’t you? You with Leticia, he…” She straightened her spine. ”I alone behaved properly this evening and I refuse to stand here and be falsely accused of that which you are guilty.”
Richard shook his head, trying to keep up with her. Leticia’s kiss was as chaste as a childhood friend’s, not that of a seductress. He supposed, to a bystander, with her head raised up to his, and his head lowered to hers, it might have appeared much less innocent, especially considering that they were alone in the dark. Whether or not Eliza
beth had played him false did not change the fact that he had been caught in a compromising situation. His and Leticia’s actions looked bad. Which meant, they were bad. He’d behaved with impropriety.
Stunned by his own hypocrisy, he pressed a hand to his head. In the face of Elizabeth’s justified attack on his character, his self-righteous anger dissipated like mist under sunlight. He lowered his hand. “I know what you saw may have looked bad, but we didn’t—”
“I saw you two kissing. What else you’ve done, or plan to do, I can only guess.”
Before he could defend himself, she fled, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
The bald truth stared him in the face: he was a hypocrite.
Chapter Thirty
With effort, Elizabeth lifted her head to look at the footman speaking to her—the same footman who’d taken Cooper away and locked him in the cellar.
Richard’s accusation that she’d committed adultery repeated over and over in her mind. His rage had left her quaking. At least he hadn’t hit her. Yet. She couldn’t believe he’d thought she’d been unfaithful. Even after nearly two months of marriage, he didn’t know her or trust her enough to know she’d never betray her husband. After all her attempts to prove herself deserving of his affection, he would never develop a fondness for her. Her earlier fears were right; she was unlovable. The thought speared her heart and left an open, bleeding wound.
She thought of him and Leticia kissing in the garden. Then, moments later, he’d dared pass judgment on her and Tristan based on flimsy evidence, hurling at her a terrible accusation without giving her the benefit of the doubt or even a chance to defend herself. His double standard burned in her throat. Anger wove in through her despair. The callous pretender!
The footman who’d taken Cooper trotted to her. “Milady?”
She forced her mouth to move. “What is the problem…er, Foster, isn’t it?”
“Yes, milady. Another guest has reported a missing ring.”
