Strange, but a part of Albina almost yearned for those days, to return to when her relationship with Chael had been comfortable, if no longer quite as passionate or exciting as when they were newly wed.
But then every year, after the merriment had died down, Chael would lead her upstairs to their chamber, and at midnight of their anniversary, on St. John’s Day…
Albina closed her eyes and released a breath.
The memory of their wedding night came unbidden to her mind. She had been an innocent, but while she could tell that Chael was eager to consummate their union he had been so tender and gentle that tears had sprung to her eyes. Even now, she could feel those strong hands caressing her, the weight of his body on top of her as he slowly entered her…
Her eyes snapped open, and for the first time in years, a familiar sensation as old as time itself stole over her. Desire. It was as if with every turn of the carriage wheels toward Beauley Hall, bringing her closer to her husband, she was inundated by impure thoughts. Her mind might claim to be sensible, but her body was starting to betray her.
This could be a very interesting homecoming, indeed.
***
Michael didn’t want to admit that he’d been staring out the front parlor window, but the truth couldn’t very well be denied. Especially since he knew the exact moment his wife’s carriage arrived because he’d been pacing about the floor, looking for it for the better part of the day. After night had fallen, he had begun to wonder if she might have changed her mind. He’d almost expected it since she seemed to love life in the city so much.
But the moment he heard the sound of horse hooves and the rattle of carriage wheels in the drive, his heart seized in his chest. He hadn’t considered how they might greet one another. He wasn’t sure he could handle a brief, polite greeting, but neither did he imagine Albina wanting him to grab her and kiss her soundly on the lips either. After all, they weren’t in their twenties anymore. Mature men approaching fifty years of age should act in a polite manner toward an estranged wife. Right?
Perhaps he’d just wait for her to make the first move. Let it be her choice how she wanted to approach this reunion. After he’d received her letter, he’d been hoping that her arrival was to be a renewal of their feelings for one another, but just seeing her, sitting across from her at the dining table again — if that was all she wanted, it would have to be enough.
He waited for her at the top of the stone steps that led into the sprawling manor, while a footman assisted her out of the carriage. By the soft light illuminating the lower floors and spilling into the courtyard, he caught a glimpse of a slender, gloved hand, then a dainty booted foot, followed by an elegant straw bonnet adorned with ribbons and flowers. It wasn’t until she lifted her head and Michael caught sight of that familiar face that he found himself sucking in a breath.
For all that he’d mentally prepared himself for her arrival, he hadn’t anticipated this sudden rush of pleasure — and desire — that coursed through his body, the moment those hazel eyes lifted to his. The urge to close the distance between them and crush her body to his was almost overwhelming, but he forced himself to wait.
To hope.
Michael didn’t take his eyes off of Albina as her trunks were unloaded and carried past him. Nothing mattered at this moment but drinking his fill of the wife he’d left behind. With her reticule in her grasp, she walked toward him, proud and just as elegant as he’d known her to be, the epitome of a true lady of the ton, a woman he’d always been proud to hold on his arm.
God, I’ve been a fool for staying away as long as I have — for leaving in the first place.
He clenched his fist at his side as she stopped in front of him. Time melted away, and even though nearly twenty-five years of marriage had changed her features and form slightly, had dimmed the bright luster of her copper red locks into a more subdued strawberry-blond, a few wisps framing her face as they tried to escape her bonnet, he knew without a doubt, that if he had a second chance, he would choose to marry her all over again.
She was the love of his life, and it was past time that he told her exactly how he felt.
He started to open his mouth, to finally speak the words clogging his throat.
“Hello, Michael.”
Albina offered him a slight smile, inclining her head slightly, before she turned and walked into the house.
And all at once — let him know where she stood.
Swallowing down his bitter disappointment, he followed her inside.
***
“I trust your journey was pleasant.”
Albina cringed inwardly at the perfect, masculine sound of his detached voice. After five years, he might have come up with something a bit more to say. What is wrong with you! She wanted to shout at him, to ask if he even cared about her anymore, but at least she knew where she stood with him.
Now, if he had rushed to the carriage and dragged her into his arms and kissed her senseless…
But then, those were the fantasies of a young debutante, and not appropriate for a mature woman who had been married for more than two decades, who had shared everything from a bed, to children, to sorrow and happiness with this man.
At this point, Albina had to ask herself what was left.
She feared that the answer would be…nothing.
But then, that wasn’t true for her, was it? She wanted him as much as she ever had before. The instant she had set eyes on her husband it was as if they had never been apart. He was still just as handsome as ever, even if a bit of silver had colored his dark hair slightly at the temples. He still had the same chiseled lips and jawline; those eyes still the color of warm chocolate. More importantly, he still had the power to make her heart thump in her chest, even if he seemed blissfully unaware of it.
But then, she’d never encouraged his attentions lately either, so she supposed she couldn’t really blame him for something for which he wasn’t wholly to blame. They both had their faults.
Albina handed her gloves and cloak over to the butler, noticing that he was different from the one she remembered. “What happened to August?” she asked Michael.
He had his hands in his pockets, regarding her evenly, with no apparent hint of any kind of emotion. “He died about three years ago. This is Jeffries.”
The servant bowed deeply. “My lady.”
As a footman came forward to take care of her things, Michael said, “You always dressed in the height of fashion,” he murmured.
Albina looked down at her plum velvet traveling dress. Michael was eyeing it with a touch of admiration—or criticism, she wasn’t quite sure. In turn, she wasn’t sure if she should take offense at his statement, but she decided to take it as a compliment. It wouldn’t do for their first night together to be spent arguing. “You know it’s rather expected in London, although I’ve had this dress for at least two seasons. I’ve just never had the occasion to wear it before now. I don’t normally venture that far from home.”
Home. Meaning Baine House and not Beauley Hall.
She winced at her slip, but he didn’t appear to notice, or else he chose not to comment on it. To break the awkward silence, she told him of her troubles since leaving London and the reason for her tardiness. She knew she was probably babbling, but he didn’t say a word, just listened.
At the end of her explanation, he said, “After such a harrowing journey I imagine you might want to freshen up.” He paused. “Your rooms are prepared, so I can have some tea and some supper brought up to your room if you don’t wish to come back downstairs.”
“Thank you, but that’s perfectly fine. I’ll join you in the dining hall shortly.” She turned to go, but his softly spoken words stopped her.
“Actually, I’ve been taking my meals in the parlor of late. It seems rather unnecessary to drag out all the fine china when I’m dining alone. But if you wish to adhere to the formalities—”
She turned back to him, trying to ignore the fact that she suddenly felt lik
e a stranger in the same house that had given her so many pleasant memories, the same place that had always felt like more of a home than Baine House ever truly had. “The parlor is fine, Michael.”
This time she did go, for she feared if she remained any longer, he would see the well of tears filling her eyes.
***
Michael watched his wife’s curvaceous figure climb the stairs until she disappeared from view. He blew out a breath before going to his study where a slightly used bottle of brandy waited for him. He only drank on certain occasions, and tonight was certainly turning out to be one of them.
He poured a finger’s worth of amber liquid into the glass and slammed it back in one swallow, savoring the burn of alcohol and hoping it would manage to numb his senses, if only for a little while. Damn, but that was awkward…
Even during the early days when he’d been courting Albina, had he ever felt so out of place, and at such a loss of what to say? Then again, she had been an innocent girl who’d hung on his every word, whereas now…needless to say it was going to take quite a bit more coercion on his part to woo her again — if that was even possible.
Either way, he knew that they might never be as close as they were back then, but at least he had to try. It had nearly killed him to leave her five years ago, but he’d always been under the impression that when someone was loved enough they should be set free. So that’s what he’d done. But as he’d lain awake at night, the opposite side of his bed cold and lonely, he found he’d hated himself for it. More than once he’d nearly ordered his horse to be saddled when the pain in his chest had become too tight to bear, the long separation from Albina making it hard to breathe, but then he’d come to his senses and remind himself that he was doing all of this for her.
He would recall the strain about her mouth and the sadness that tinged those beautiful eyes in the months leading up to his departure, and it would tear him up inside. Albina had done her duty to her parents, to society, and even to him and their children, so it wasn’t fair to demand even more of her.
He abruptly drained his glass with an angry scoff. Well, wasn’t I just the self-sacrificing hero?
He’d subjected himself to a life of celibacy and isolation — for what? Albina had treated him with the same reserve he’d left her with in London, yet she still maintained the ability to rip his heart out of his chest. All this time he’d been under the false hope that things would change, that when she returned it would be like when they’d first met. Sparks would fly, and the passion would reignite. Personally, his feelings hadn’t ebbed with time. If nothing else, their absence had made his emotions grow stronger.
But she had just treated him as if they were strangers.
He closed his eyes. Perhaps all of this was a fool’s errand. He wanted to win Albina’s heart back, but if he failed, he wasn’t sure he could endure to let her go a second time.
In truth, it might very well destroy him.
CHAPTER THREE
A lady must always keep her composure…
Lady A’s Advice Column
Albina’s fork scraped lightly against the side of her plate, yet the sound grated on her nerves as if a handful of nails had trailed down a schoolroom slate. Even though she had assured Michael that the parlor would be fine, she had returned downstairs in a simple, green muslin dress and found that the dining room was open and set with two place settings — at opposite ends of the massive table.
It was nearly impossible to speak to one another, so they had greeted each other politely upon arrival and sat down to eat in a silence so deafening that even the ticking of the clock on the mantel caused her to grit her teeth in irritation.
She lifted her wineglass to her lips, only to find that it was empty. With an inward sigh, she set it to the side and pushed her half-eaten stew away as she rose to her feet. “I believe I shall retire.”
“Of course.”
Her husband’s disconnected voice was the last straw. Albina clenched her fists before she said something she shouldn’t, then she turned and walked out of the room.
Instead of returning to her chamber, she found herself walking to the conservatory. It was the only place she could think of that might muffle a frustrated scream. She had used it as a place to escape on numerous occasions when she had lived here. The warmth of the enclosed, glass structure and the fragrant scent of flowers and herbs had gone far to soothe her troubles.
But when she opened the door, she froze in horror. The room was completely bare. Not even a speck of soil could be found. The only thing that remained was the possibility of life. It wasn’t even that warm anymore, the glass around her now cold and unfeeling. Nothing.
It was too much.
Albina collapsed against the wall, the breath knocked out of her as surely as if she’d fallen. Violent tremors wracked her body as if her very soul was breaking apart from her human form. And perhaps it was. It had taken a bleak conservatory for her to admit the truth — that she was but a former shell of an otherwise happy existence.
“Albina?”
The softly spoken, masculine query had her swiping at her tear-streaked face as she turned to glare at him. She was suddenly very angry at Michael. Not only had he ruined her safe haven, but he had interrupted her at one of her weakest moments. “Where are all the flowers?” she asked a bit harshly.
He hesitated, eyeing her steadily. “I never had much of a green thumb, so I didn’t see the need in keeping up with something I was no good at.”
Albina clutched the edge of a bare table until her knuckles turned white. She stared at the stark emptiness before her and felt new tears blur her vision. “It was my favorite room at Beauley Hall,” she whispered. “And now it’s…gone. You ruined it.”
“What did you expect me to do?” he countered gruffly. “Let it grow out of control?” He snorted. “You weren’t here. I didn’t see any point in paying for the upkeep.”
“It would have been better than erasing it all as if it never existed.” She looked at him evenly. “As if I never existed.”
He jerked as if she’d struck him.
“I don’t know if I can ever forgive you for this.” Her words were soft, but filled with a painful bitterness. “I should just return to London tomorrow and forget all about this place.”
About you…
***
The unspoken words hung in the air long after she’d gathered her skirts and swept out of the room, but Michael had felt every syllable as a direct arrow to his heart.
He hung his head in defeat. The first night she was under the same roof with him, and she was ready to leave already. Well done, old chap.
He shoved a hand through his thick hair and blew out a deep breath. He winced, remembering the accusing glare in her shimmering eyes. He had known that she’d loved this place more than any other room in the house, had found it relaxing tending to the new blooms of life and caring for those that were on the brink of death.
She believed that he’d intentionally torn apart her memories and ground them beneath his boot heel. And maybe, when he’d ordered this room to be cleared, that’s what he’d done. At the time, he’d been angry, but more than that, he hadn’t been able to bear to watch all those plants wither and die without Albina there to care for them.
She still didn’t understand that none of it mattered without her.
It never had.
He wanted nothing more than to make his marriage with Albina work, but it couldn’t be one-sided. Either way, he certainly wasn’t starting out on the right foot. Even if he ordered hundreds of hothouse blooms to be arranged in here tomorrow, it wouldn’t erase the pain, the feeling of betrayal that he’d already caused her.
At this point, he was starting to think that no matter what he did, nothing would bring her love back to him.
***
Albina requested a tray in her room the next morning. She wasn’t quite prepared to face Michael just yet. She was still heart sore over the conservatory, even though sh
e realized, in the light of day, that she might have overreacted. In truth, she knew she had. There was no call for her to have lashed out at him like she had. He’d spoken nothing but the truth. After all, it wasn’t as if flowers didn’t have an expiration date without someone to care for them.
When her ladies’ maid, Helen, who had accompanied her from London, brought in her breakfast tray, Albina glanced at it, surprised to see a single red rose lying beside the plate along with a neatly folded missive. Her hand shook as she opened the folded note.
I’m sorry. I should have warned you about the conservatory.
Please accept this as a peace offering so that we might begin anew.
—M
Albina pressed the letter against her heart before she picked up her fork and ate quickly. She carefully performed her morning ablutions, taking a lavender scented bath, while the whole time her nerves were thrumming with energy with the urgent need to see Michael and make amends. She sat at her dressing table while Helen brushed her hair. As she waited for Helen to pin her waist-length locks into a simple bun at her nape, Albina stared at her reflection with a critical eye.
She remembered, all those years ago, the moment she’d dressed for her first ball of the official London season. That night, she’d worn a white satin ball gown adorned with seed pearls. She knew it had cost her parents a near fortune to have specially made, but her mother had assured her that no cost would be spared for her daughter’s special day. Since her only other child was a son, Albina’s brother, Espen, their mother had enjoyed lavishing beautiful gowns upon her.
Second Chance Love: A Regency Romance Set Page 20
