by Donna Hatch
All of a sudden, everything made sense. Elizabeth often called her mother Duchess instead of Mother, especially in unguarded moments, and the duchess obviously singled out Elizabeth for abuse, criticism, and ridicule.
Richard gently turned Elizabeth around to face him and peered into her misery-filled face. “She’s not your mother, is she?”
Hanging her head, Elizabeth let out a ragged exhale and shook her head.
“No,” Duchess said triumphantly. “Her true mother was a whore.”
Elizabeth visibly wilted. Keeping his hands on her shoulders, Richard drew her in. She stiffened and turned her head away.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I should have told you, but I just couldn’t.”
Richard put a hand under her cheek and raised her face so he could see her expression. “How did you come to be the legal daughter of a duke?”
Her lower lip trembled and she wouldn’t look him in the eye.
Before she spoke, the duchess broke in, “She is the child of my husband’s mistress. She died a few days after childbirth, fortunately. The duke felt duty-bound to bring home and raise their spawn. He insisted that the world believe she was our daughter. But no birth certificate will change her true parentage.”
Richard had never been tempted to strike a woman in all his life. Until now. Turning a venomous glare at the duchess, he snarled. “You sicken me.”
With an arm still around Elizabeth, Richard took her out of the room and closed the door. After reaching the outer room, he turned and enfolded her in his arms. “It doesn’t matter, Elizabeth.”
She let out a cross between a laugh and a sob.
From inside the room where the duchess remained, the sound of breaking glass shattered the silence. Heartsick Elizabeth had been the target of such wrath, he held her and rested his cheek on the top of her head. “It makes no difference to me who your mother was, Elizabeth. Who you are now is all that matters.”
Her shoulders shook and she sobbed.
He added, “I very much regret that you’ve had to grow up with that.”
Still silent, she burrowed into his neckcloth. The strength of the protectiveness coursing through him made him almost believe he could overcome anything, even gravity. He vowed always to keep her safe and to treat her as she deserved.
If only he’d proven himself a trustworthy confidant sooner, she might have come to him with her secrets, her fears.
He ran a hand over her hair. “When you said you were feeling poorly and planned to take a tray in your room, you anticipated being injured?”
She let out a sound of distress. “I’d planned to stand up to her, but I feared she’d simply overpower me, or that I lacked the courage to try when the time came.”
“I wish I’d met and married you sooner.” Although he would have needed to find her as a child in order to have spared her growing up with such hatred and violence.
Not trusting himself to speak, he brushed his fingers across her cheek. Eventually her shaking ceased, yet she remained in his arms as if she had nowhere else she’d rather be. Her heart beat against his chest while her scent curled around him, and the softness of her body felt so very right.
Richard’s fierce protectiveness gentled into something warm and tender. He kissed the top of Elizabeth’s head.
She looked up at him with such a look of adoration that a lump formed in his throat. Raising up on tiptoe, she kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”
He cleared his throat. “’Tis merely my duty, my little bride.”
He skimmed one hand across her back, immeasurably grateful that he’d arrived in time to prevent her from suffering violence today. She shivered and made a tiny sound of pleasure. Wishing he could find a place of privacy, he tamped his desires and opened the outer door for her, allowing her to pass through ahead of him. She slipped her hand into his. Everything inside him warmed.
Richard glanced at her. “If you have no objection, I’d like to return home. Immediately.”
“I have no objection.”
“Excellent. Can you leave within the hour?”
“Of course. But are you sure you wish to begin so late in the day? It’s almost time for luncheon.”
“I think it’s best to remove you from the duchess’s presence as soon as possible. We’ll stop this evening at a posting inn.”
Her lower lip quivered and she squeezed his hand. “You do care.”
“Of course I care.” His face heated in shame that she’d seemed surprised. “I’m sorry I haven’t shown you.”
Vowing to make sure she understood how much she’d grown to mean to him, he escorted her to her room and rang for her maid. The moment Maggie entered, he barked out commands for their imminent departure ending with, “If the duchess comes near Lady Averston, send for me immediately.”
Maggie bobbed a curtsy. “Yes, milord.”
An hour later, they said their goodbyes, a somewhat tearful and hastily whispered conversation occurred between Mary and Elizabeth, and then they were off. The duchess made no appearance but the others appeared perplexed by their sudden departure.
As they climbed inside their carriage, a rider appeared. “I have a message for Lord Averston.”
Richard halted. “I am he.”
“It’s marked urgent, my lord. I went to your estate, and they sent me here.”
“You must have been riding for days.” Richard paid the messenger, broke the seal, and read. He looked up at Elizabeth. “It’s a writ of summons. I’m to go to London for a parliamentary trial. We must make all haste. This message is nearly a week old and I’m to report by Tuesday next. I had been wondering why I hadn’t received one when the duke had.” He drummed his fingers on his thigh. “We’ll go home first since it’s not far out of the way. Then I will on to London from there.”
Richard glanced at Elizabeth, musing over the wisdom of leaving her alone at home. London was miserable in the summer, but he hated to leave her behind now when their relationship had turned a corner. As the coach rolled along, Elizabeth smiled almost shyly at him. Then as if catching herself, she looked out the window.
He took one of her hands. Her fingers curled around his, a welcoming response. For a moment, he sat enjoying the simple contact. If only they could make this trip pleasurable instead of rushed.
“I feel I must apologize in advance for the journey,” Richard said. “I had meant to enjoy the ride and stop for food and lodgings. I fear we must travel with as much haste as possible.”
“I understand.” Her hands tightened around his. After a moment, she spoke. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am that you aren’t upset about the truth of my birth.”
He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. “Not one whit. Who was she? Do you know anything about her?”
“Not much, just that she was a beautiful, auburn-haired actress before my father became her protector, and that he loved her so much that he almost married her instead of Duchess.”
Richard nodded. Such an act would have been an affront to the duke’s family, but with his own burgeoning feelings for Elizabeth, he could understand the temptation to fly in the face of society’s strictures.
Her expression turned wistful. “I also know that she died shortly after childbirth. About that time, Duchess gave birth to a stillborn. My mother had no family, no one to care for me, so Father took me home and presented me to the world as his legitimate child.”
“And the duchess hated you for it.”
Elizabeth shrugged. “At least I had a home with food and clothing, and I got an education. If he hadn’t taken me home, who knows what might have happened to me. I might have died as a baby. I’m grateful to him.”
Growing admiration for this woman warmed him all over. How could he have doubted such a pure soul?
As the afternoon waned, the conversation did, too. Yet, a more comfortable silence than they had ever known prevailed. She leaned back and stretched out her legs but after a few minutes, her head nodded. Smili
ng, he guided her head to his shoulder. She snuggled in against him. Peace and wellbeing stole over him. He dared hope that with a little luck, they just might find a measure of happiness together after all.
Chapter Thirty-Five
The carriage hit a bump, waking Elizabeth. Outside the windows, sunset spread a golden glow over the landscape. Stretching, she glanced at Richard sketching in a notebook.
She yawned and sat up. “What are you drawing?”
A corner of his mouth lifted. “A cottage we passed by a few miles ago.”
She admired his detailed sketch of a stone cottage with a fence almost bending under the weight of wild roses intertwined in it. The tone of the drawing seemed peaceful rather than the lonely sketches he’d drawn of the knights. “You have a remarkable talent.”
He shrugged. “Father thought it a great waste of time, but Mother enjoyed my sketches. I hope I’ve improved since then.”
“You seldom speak of your parents. I understand you lost them both at a young age.”
He paused. “My mother left us when I was eleven.”
“How did she die?”
“She didn’t die. Not then. She left.” He gripped the pencil with white fingers.
Elizabeth studied his face. Intuition whispered that she hovered on the edge of an important discovery. “Where did she go?”
He said nothing for so long that she thought he’d decided not to tell her. Finally, he drew a breath. “She and my father had problems. They quarreled. Almost constantly. When they weren’t fighting, they ignored one another. Then one day a strange man came to the house while Father was away. He paid her many calls over the next few months.”
Realization overcame Elizabeth. “She was having an affair de coeur?”
His jaw tensed and his lips pressed together in a thin line. “I’ll never forget the day she came to my nursery and told me I was a good boy and that she was proud of me. She said I should always strive to uphold the family honor and to be just like Father. She kissed me. Then she left. She never came back.”
Elizabeth touched his hand, silently weeping for the abandoned child. ‘Frailty, thy name is woman’ she silently recited from Shakespeare. No wonder Richard kept expecting her to betray him. He probably assumed every woman had a faithless heart. Or perhaps, like her, he felt deep in his heart that he was undeserving of love and faithfulness. Of course, she’d been unfaithful in her heart when she continued pining for Tristan even after she’d married Richard.
“I’m sorry, Richard. I’m so very sorry.”
“Father took it well, never showed any outward signs of grief. Nonetheless, he never smiled after that. He let go most of the staff and closed up all but a few rooms in the house.”
“He must have been heartsick.” The old earl’s grief must have been terrible for a child to witness.
He stared at the carriage wall. “The gossip columnists learned somehow and had a heyday with it. They badgered him whenever he left the house. He finally sent word that he was too ill to sit at the House of Lords. He sequestered himself in our county seat and never visited any of the other properties. Tristan and I bore the brunt of it in school.” His white-lipped expression revealed to Elizabeth what he could not tell her.
She gave his hand a gentle squeeze.
His fingers curled around hers. “A year later, we received word she’d been in a fatal accident on the continent.”
“Oh, how terrible.”
“She was already dead to us,” he said flatly, but pain shadowed his eyes and his hand gripped hers as if it alone prevented him from a fall.
“Then your father died?”
“When I was eighteen.”
“You were young to assume the role of earl.”
“I’d already been doing it for the last few years. Father had begun turning more and more of the affairs of all the estates to me, and I’d been trying all my life to keep Tristan out of trouble.”
She smiled sadly. “You love him well.”
Some of the tension left his brow and his mouth pulled up on one side. “He always knows how to make me smile. He reminds me not to take myself too seriously.”
“You are a good and honorable man, Richard Barrett, twelfth Earl of Averston.”
He huffed a wry chuckle. “I try to give that impression.”
“You succeed.” She hoped he heard the sincerity in her words.
As much as she still missed Tristan’s infectious charm, Richard possessed admirable strength, his own moments of charm—less obvious and less gregarious, but he was, nevertheless, an amazing man in his own way. He’d even stood up to Duchess in a manner Tristan probably never would have. If only he’d let his brother back into his life. Brothers needed each other.
She hesitated. “May I ask something of you?”
“Anything.”
She knew she trod on dangerous ground, but had to speak her thoughts. “When you get to London, won’t you please call upon Tristan? You need to make peace with your brother.”
He let his breath out in a long exhale. “I plan to. I wrote to him but have not received word back. After the way I threw him out in the middle of the night, without even telling him his crime—much less giving him a chance to defend himself—he will be slow to forgive. I wouldn’t blame him if he refused to ever speak with me.”
“I am confident you will make amends someday.”
Richard nodded, his posture resigned.
Darkness fell, and Elizabeth rested her head on Richard’s shoulder. He put an arm around her. Being nestled in his arms created a sense of wellbeing.
“Elizabeth.” He paused, growing solemn. “If you feel threatened by anyone, at any time, you must tell me. Do you understand? I cannot protect you if I do not know you are in danger.”
She drew a shuddering breath and nodded.
“Is there anything else you wish to tell me? Anyone else who frightens you?”
“No.” She drew a breath. “Except you when you accused me of being with Tristan at the ball. I was frightened then.”
He winced. “Oh, sweet Elizabeth! Will you ever forgive me?”
She studied her hands. “You hurt me, Richard.”
“I was wrong to make assumptions. I should have asked you about it, given you the opportunity to explain. Instead, I passed judgment on you both. I’m so sorry.”
She watched his expression, finding sincerity and regret etched in every line of his face. “I cannot change the feelings I had for Tristan, nor can I vow that I have purged them entirely from my heart—but I’m trying. I promise I will never dishonor you.” She sighed. “I wish I could convince you of that.”
He tightened his arm around her shoulder. “I will try to be fair, and not always look for evidence of your potential to become the same kind of wife my mother was to my father.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. “In time, I am certain I can give you my complete trust. In time, I hope to earn your forgiveness.”
She smiled. “I have already forgiven you, Richard.”
For now that was enough.
As the carriage bumped along the road, Richard touched Elizabeth’s smooth cheek, traced his fingers over her mouth and lifted her chin. She willingly moved her head under his touch, bringing her lips upward toward him. He leaned in and brushed his lips over hers. Tingles spread across his mouth at the simple touch and warmed his whole being. He kissed her more fully and the tingles intensified. Her lips moved with his, so soft, so willing.
With a groan, he pressed his mouth more firmly against hers, tugging, pulling, tasting. Her mouth was warm and sweet as she responded with more eagerness than skill. A small part of his brain registered her inexperience. A surge of triumph raced through him at the sign that she had not been kissed often. He claimed her lips again. She rested a hand on his chest, its heat soaking through his clothes. Pulling her in closer, he kissed her over and over, deepening the connection as she opened to him.
She learned the art of kissing before long and soon
matched him in ardor. Pressing herself against him, she slipped her hands behind his neck as her mouth devoured him as hungrily as he devoured her. His control slipped. The urge to lay her down and take her in the carriage nearly overwhelmed him.
A carriage was no place to seduce a lady, least of all his new bride. Her first time should be in her marriage bed, surrounded by candles. He must proceed slowly. But oh, she was soft and desirable. And so willing. Enthusiastic, even. Shivering as lust battered his control, he ordered his hands to remain on her back rather than explore the curves tempting him, and simply kissed her. He moved his mouth to her forehead and her nose. She tilted her head back, lifting her lush mouth toward him. With her moist, pink lips and flushed cheeks, she looked blatantly desirable. He captured her lips once more, taking his time to taste their sweetness, inhale her subtle scent of violets and roses and that musky sweet tang of angelica, and drinking in her softness.
Her chest heaved with each breath she took. Satisfaction curled inside Richard. She wanted him. She was simply too naïve to recognize her passion. Again, relief that she was innocent flowed over him like cool water. An inner longing arose, a longing which he’d always denied, a longing to love and be loved. She would be the one to meet that longing, to give and receive as he’d always dreamed. He’d lived his whole life to reach this moment. After their lips parted, he pulled her against him. She nestled into his embrace. An utter sense of peace crept over him. He belonged to Elizabeth. Had always belonged to her. As she belonged to him.
Was this love?
For once, he had the sense not to fight it and instead surrendered his heart to her.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Richard and Elizabeth arrived home early in the evening the following day, exhausted from the trip. Richard gave orders to prepare to depart for London and began making arrangements. Too tired to be of assistance, Elizabeth ate a hasty meal and went to bed. As she sank into the feather mattress, she let out a sigh. How delicious to lie in a comfortable, motionless bed instead of the moving carriage. Yet, she missed Richard’s presence.
As she dozed off, she thought she heard him enter the room, but by the time she roused herself enough to open her eyes, no one was there. Perhaps her wistful thinking had taken over her imagination.
