Her thoughts ran wild as she lay in bed that night. Perhaps that is almost exactly what is occurring. My first flirtation was Jack. We were in love in weeks, eloping soon afterwards, and together for only a few brief weeks before his death.
She could barely remember that time—a haze of passion and romance, swiftly followed by shock at his loss, the discovery that she was with child, and the challenge of surviving as a pregnant widow aged just twenty-one.
Now, at forty-two, she was finally embarking on her second flirtation and experiencing all the flutterings and agonies that she remembered from her London Season, when she had first met Jack. It was excruciatingly beautiful and terrifying at the same time. Nothing could come of it, of course. Once her shame was known, no gentleman could respect her or seek to build a friendship with her.
The Fanton family would discover that she had brought a girl of dubious standing into their midst, and they would, in all likelihood, turn away from them. Oh, they will be kind about it. She thought of the generosity and goodness of Charlotte, Clara, Harry, and the others, but society’s rules had to be obeyed. A child of dubious origins could exist at the edges of society, with some acceptance from those at the relaxed fringes. It would be the deception around Juliana’s background—and her own—that would be unforgiveable.
Charlotte would contain her disappointment and say all that was proper, but she was now a countess, and she and the earl could not possibly ignore the deception they had been subjected to. Once this visit ended, Juliana and Elizabeth would not be invited back, and Juliana would lose her dearest friend.
Elizabeth sighed and turned over. Her stomach was churning, and there was a hard, tight knot in her chest. On nights like these, when she faced the truth of her situation, she often could not sleep until nearly dawn. For the thousandth time, she agonised over her choices. What could I have done differently? Should she have raised Juliana knowing the truth? Should she have explained in Brussels, justifying why they should not travel to England? Even now, should she make a clean breast of it tomorrow to her daughter?
Ultimately, her thoughts returned, as they always did, to the original decision—to elope with Jack. Over the years, she had questioned on many occasions why she had believed she had no other option at the time. Today, meeting her father again, she remembered exactly why. Just hearing his voice and seeing his face had made her knees tremble and her stomach sick.
Years before, as a small girl, she had adored Papa, but after Mama’s death, he had become morose, withdrawn, and frequently angry—not only with her, but with everyone around him. Over the years, he had become increasingly autocratic. As an Army general, he was used to unquestioning obedience. Eventually, he applied the same dominance to his daughter and she, never outgoing or naturally confident, had quailed under the weight of his expectations and commands.
Twenty-year-old Elizabeth had been correct. Papa would never have allowed her to wed Jack. He had, instead, recommended she seek out an older husband to ‘guide’ her. She immediately became suspicious of any admirer over the age of thirty, feeling sure that Papa would pressure her to accept one of them. One had even made her an offer, which she had rejected. In the end, Papa’s hopes had had the opposite effect—instead of considering older suitors, she had concentrated on the younger admirers. And among them, the most dashing, the most romantic, the most extravagant, had been Jack.
Mr Thornton had also been one of her coterie for a time, she recalled. He had clearly forgotten her, but she remembered him. Like her, he had been innately reserved, preferring to stay in the background, and so, despite his good looks, he had not succeeded in gaining her affections. He may not have had any serious intent. The young men flirted with all the ladies they deemed interesting.
She had been a success in her first Season. Her deep blue eyes, trim figure, and angelically fair hair had attracted the eyes of the gentlemen, and her pretty manners and sweet character had impressed the mamas. ‘Exquisite!’ they had said. Others had described her as ‘a diamond of the first water.’
Jack had adored her from the first. She had seen it in his eyes, and her love-empty heart had responded. The rest was as inevitable as night following day. She had felt loved for the first time in many years, and the thought of losing her beloved Jack had been unbearable.
And now, my Juliana must suffer for it. She had lived in fear for more than two decades, until it had seeped into her bones and crept into her soul. It walked with her, a constant unseen companion. And now, finally, the thing she feared was coming to pass.
Tomorrow? Will it be tomorrow? Or the next day? Or the day after that? It mattered not. It was coming. And she had no power to prevent it.
Standing before the looking-glass in her bedchamber, Elizabeth saw something of her younger self in the reflection. Lizzie. She had been Lizzie to her mama—a happy, carefree, loved child. Papa had, as she grew, dignified her with the more adult-sounding Elizabeth, but inside, Lizzie had always lurked.
Jack had found her then, brought Lizzie back into being for a little time, but when Jack died, Lizzie had vanished, to be replaced by an Elizabeth thrust into the responsibilities of motherhood, living independently, and fending for herself and her baby. Now, in the looking-glass, a glimmer of Lizzie looked back at her.
Downstairs, Mr Thornton was waiting. ‘You look beautiful.’ he said simply. There were no flourishes, nothing even of flirtation in his tone. His eyes, however... Oh, his eyes! They were filled with admiration, and Elizabeth was fiercely glad that she had chosen the best of her day dresses—a yellow muslin that Juliana had persuaded her to trim with blond lace. Juliana had also insisted on giving her a straw bonnet that, she said, she no longer needed, and Elizabeth had, despite all her misgivings, spent the morning trimming it with a ribbon in the perfect shade of yellow.
That ribbon was now tied under Elizabeth’s left ear, the high poke of the bonnet framing her face in a way that even she had to admit was flattering. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured now, her voice a little husky.
Mr Thornton’s mother had accompanied him, and so he and Elizabeth stepped out within a very few minutes, keen to avoid the interested glances of Clara and Mrs Thornton.
He smiled a little ruefully at her. ‘I apologise for my mother. She believes she is being subtle.’
She could not prevent a small chuckle. ‘Clara—Miss Langley—is equally indelicate. It is actually quite amusing.’
‘I am relieved to hear that you are taking it in good spirit. My mother fearlessly attempts to marry me off to any female under the age of fifty! You should not read anything into her attempts.’
Unaccountably, this caused a small pang of—could it be disappointment? ‘Oh,’ she replied airily, ‘I would not even consider such a thing! You are a man who makes his own decisions, I think.’
He grinned. ‘You have the right of it! My mother’s optimism is admirable—to persist in the view that she will find me a wife when I have been a confirmed bachelor these twenty years and more. She is truly dedicated to my welfare and believes that it is impossible for me to be happy while single.’
Elizabeth was intrigued. ‘And yet, she herself is a widow who has never remarried. But perhaps—’ Oh dear! Have I, without meaning to, stumbled upon a delicate subject?‘ Perhaps she never recovered from the loss of her husband?’
‘She mourned my father, it is true, but I believe she enjoys the life and status of a widow and is content.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘As a widow yourself, your words, I think, have a particular implication.’
For a moment, she could not fathom his meaning. Then she realised and flushed. ‘Oh! You think I was speaking of my own situation.’ He eyed her levelly, and she rushed on, ‘But I was not.’ That sounds disrespectful to Jack! ‘I mourned my husband, but he died a very long time ago. In fact, before my daughter was born.’
‘I am sorry.’ His brown eyes sought hers.
‘Thank you.’ His sincerity moved her. Her throat tightened.
‘The
n you have raised your daughter alone?’ She nodded. ‘I have met her on only a few occasions, but I have been impressed. She is kind, polished, and accomplished. She does you credit.’
‘Thank you,’ she muttered again, gruffly. She cleared her throat. ‘My daughter has been my prime concern since the day she was born.’
‘I can see that,’ he replied thoughtfully. ‘My mother tells me you have lived in Brussels all this time?’
‘I have. It is a beautiful city, and I have many friends there.’
‘I have never visited, though I should like to, one day. Tell me of the city.’
For the next hour, they wandered among the trees and down the lanes of the Green Park, engrossed in easy conversation. As an older lady, and a widow at that, Elizabeth had no need for a chaperone. How different this is to my courtship with Jack! Back then, she and Jack had lived for occasional moments alone, for Elizabeth had usually been under the eye of her chaperone—a distant cousin selected by Papa for the purpose. I still managed to see Jack, though. She smiled ruefully, remembering those happy times.
A similar happiness was filling her mind and her heart today, as her spirit blossomed in Mr Thornton’s company. She felt different, somehow. He likes me. He genuinely likes me. Such light-filled thoughts briefly dispelled the shadow of fear, and the relief of spending even a short time unburdened by darkness was exhilarating.
All too soon, the idyll was over. When they reached the Fanton townhouse, Elizabeth was surprised to find that more than two hours had passed since they had said goodbye to Clara and Mrs Thornton.
‘Well, Mrs Milford.’ He stopped and turned to face her. ‘I do hope you found our walk a pleasant experience.’
‘Indeed, I did,’ she returned, suddenly shy.
‘Good. I shall call again in two days in the hope that you will again walk with me.’
Say no! There is no future in this friendship! ‘I should be happy to walk with you again.’ Why did I say that?
There was a pause, as their words settled around them like leaves in autumn. To Elizabeth’s right, the door opened, the footman having spied them through his peephole. They started, Elizabeth realising that she had been standing staring stupidly at Mr Thornton. To be fair, he had been holding her gaze with equal intensity.
He followed her into the house, where his mother declared that she was quite ready to go home and that she and Miss Langley had been surprised that they had stayed away for such a long time. ‘Not that I mind,’ she added, hands fluttering. ‘I think it’s wonderful that you and Mrs Milford have hit it off so well!’
Elizabeth shuffled uncomfortably, but Mrs Thornton was not finished. ‘And when I think of all the ladies that Charles has been introduced to over the years—why I declare I cannot recall him ever spending so much time with one before!’
‘Mama, you have outdone yourself,’ he replied with equanimity, while Elizabeth fidgeted with her hands and tried not to be noticed. ‘Let us go, before you say something else to enlighten Mrs Milford and Miss Langley about my bachelor lifestyle.’
He sent Elizabeth a look that was half-apology, half-humour, and she could not help but respond to it. His mama was a dear and wanted only for her son to be happy. As a mother herself, she could forgive Mrs Thornton’s directness.
So they departed, and Elizabeth was left in a state of contented happiness for quite some hours.
CHAPTER EIGHT
This, then, became the pattern. Elizabeth, ever fearful of Papa’s return, avoided going out or taking part in the At Home visits, except when the Thorntons were calling. Without conscious decision, she kept her friendship with Mr Thornton away from Juliana and the others. Only Clara knew how often they were in each other’s company.
She and Mr Thornton came to know the various walkways in the Green Park rather well, and, in doing so, came to know each other rather better. At first, they discussed uncontroversial topics such as the weather, books, and world affairs. Preparations for war had begun, with no-one trusting Napoleon to remain in France. Everyone believed that France’s leader would have his armies on the move before long, and Harry had already stated he expected to travel back to the continent in the near future. Elizabeth warmed to Mr Thornton ever more, as they discovered a harmony of thinking in many matters, and lively, stimulating debate where they had different views.
Inevitably, their conversations became more personal, and on several occasions, Elizabeth had needed to divert their discourse away from her marriage, her background, and her reasons for living in Brussels. She was sure he could sense her rising panic in these moments and, thankfully, so far, he had allowed her to avoid his probing questions. Yet danger lurked in the most innocent subjects and, finally, he broke through her polite diversions. They were wandering through the park on a sunny afternoon discussing Mr Thornton’s mother and her ongoing campaign to throw them together.
‘I truly believe,’ he said, laughing, ‘that she considers herself the best matchmaker in England following this!’
‘I do pity you,’ Elizabeth returned. ‘When Juliana and I return to Brussels and her plans turn to dust, you will be the worst son a mother ever had!’ Her tone was light, gently teasing.
‘But surely, you have no plans to return soon?’ he asked, his brows coming together in a frown. ‘Not with war possibly on the horizon?’
‘On the contrary, we must make arrangements very soon, as we will need to be safely home before the trouble begins.’
He stopped walking and turned to face her. ‘I have no right to advise you, I know, but I urge you to reconsider.’ He took her hand, and the touch of his warm skin sent shivers fizzling through her. ‘Will you not stay in London, where it is safe?’
Oh, how I wish I could! The words burned on her tongue, but she could not say them. Had no right to say them. When the truth came out, she and Juliana would have no option but to leave. She looked at him mutely, the conflict raging in her mind clearly visible in her expression.
His face twisted. ‘Oh, dash it all!’ And suddenly, without warning, she was in his arms and being thoroughly kissed.
For an instant, she stood immobile, as if living twenty years in a desert had led to her forgetting how to drink. Then, as desire rushed through her, she lifted her arms and slid them around his muscular back, her hands slipping across the fabric of his coat. It was pulled taut across his shoulder-blades, but a little lower, she reached the contours of muscle and bone, radiating delicious warmth. She opened her fingers, enjoying the novel sensation of his warm body beneath her hands.
Meanwhile, his lips were busy on hers, questing, seeking access. She gave it willingly, enthusiastically, sensuously. The kiss—her first in more than two decades—was the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to her. Even as fear screamed in her mind about the consequences, her heart soared. I care not! Charles is kissing me.
She opened her eyes as they ended the kiss but kept her arms wrapped around him. His strong arms enveloped her and, quite without thinking about it, she turned her head and leaned it against his chest. She felt his chin come down to rest on top of her head, his arms tightened around her, and she closed her eyes again with a sigh. I am safe. I am protected. For so long she had had no-one to turn to, no-one who cared deeply enough to share her burdens.
Juliana adored her, she knew, but she could never show vulnerability with her daughter, for both their sakes. She had to always be the mother.
Today, and every day with Charles, she could simply be herself.
Except for the lies.
His heart beat under her ear, strong and true. She savoured the moment even as reality began to intrude. One final long sigh, then she raised her head to look at him. His brown eyes seared into hers—My, how handsome he is! —then a slow smile spread across his face.
Elizabeth smiled back—well, how could she not? —and he lifted a hand to gently touch her cheek. ‘You are even more beautiful now than you were as a debutante.’
She gasped, feeling all t
he colour drain from her face. ‘You know who I am? You remember me?’
He chuckled. ‘Of course, I remember you! How could I forget? Miss Elizabeth Hunter was the darling of the ton on her debut. I was quite enamoured of you, you know.’
He had been enamoured? She stored this detail away for future consideration. ‘But… you asked me if we had met before. I thought you had forgotten.’
‘A small deception on my part. Out of politeness, I wished to see if you would acknowledge our prior link. You did not, which, I confess, intrigued me.’
He knows me. He knows all of it. Reality flooded her stomach with ice-cold fear. His next question now will be to ask about Jack and our marriage. Oh, I cannot bear it! When he discovers I was never properly married to Jack, and that Juliana is a bastard in the eyes of the church, why, his regard will turn to disdain. He was eyeing her in puzzlement, seemingly aware that she was under the influence of some strong emotion. Oh, but he is a good man! Perhaps he will offer me pity and kindness, not disdain.
But it is not enough. I do not wish for kindness from him. Not kindness, nor friendship, nor pity, nor anything less than—
She did not finish the thought, aware only that anything less than everything would be inadequate.
‘Eliz— Mrs Milford! Have I said something to distress you?’
He was right to look rather bewildered. She was, she knew, behaving in an outlandish way.
‘No, not at all. I have become used to being unknown, I suppose, so I was disconcerted by your recognising me.’
He considered this, then shook his head. ‘That’s not it. But I shall wait until you are ready to tell me.’ He tucked her hand in his arm and they walked on.
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