by Gayle Eden
She also visited Juliette, and in time opened up about her affair with the Viscount. Not a complete surprise, since Juliette had arranged the use of the cottage for them. There was not much known of the Marston’s private life, not even to Monty, so everything she tried, in answer her questions, were still suppositions. Juliette was a great friend to her, supportive, and she tried to keep her spirits up and offer distractions—but Lisette was preoccupied with Marston—her memories of him, their lovemaking haunted her through the colder nights. At times, she would wake up in the dark and lay with her heart racing and eyes wide open. Lisette could hear him call to her, in a voice so tormented, she could only weep and beg him to tell her what was wrong.
It was difficult to play two parts, her usual high-spirited self and the woman who slept with Marston, and was so connected to him—so nearly obsessed with him, she feared. The past and present memories, the unanswered questions dominated her thoughts.
April could not come fast enough.
When it came, and near the time for the party, she was in the billiard room absently rolling the balls across the table when the duchess found her.
“Shall I invite the Viscount?” Her grace wanted to know.
“Yes. And his friend, Mr. Smith.” Lisette looked up.
“Very well.” Her mother walked over and slipped an arm around her waist. “Set your course, Lisette and follow it through. That is the only way for you to find answers.”
“I know, mama.” Lisette kissed her brow.
The duchess left her, saying, “It will be good to have all of my children here, though James is at sea and shan’t be able to come. Still, I look forward to all of your romping about.”
Lisette looked around the room, once more alone. “Please come, Elisha. We both need to remember the joy we found in each other’s arms.” She left, to write a note and send it along with her mother’s official invite.
* * * *
Gray Heath…
“This came today,” Smith strode into Elisha’s study.
Elisha, dressed casually in his shirtsleeves, arose, and walked around the desk, taking the sealed missive over by the French doors.
A spring sun bathed everything magnificently. The scent of dark winter was banished, thankfully.
He held the missive for a long time without opening it, aware that Smith half sat on a chair arm, lighting a cheroot and watching him.
Marston broke the seal and caught the other note in his hand while his eyes scanned the official invitation. He refolded it and went to the desk, setting it there before going back, opening the doors, and walking out into the budding gardens.
He held the note to his nose and breathed in, feeling, smelling, and remembering the bouquet of Lisette’s perfume. It rivaled the buds and blooms around him. He found a bench and sat, slightly leaned over, elbows on his thighs.
Dearest playmate.
He smiled his first smile in weeks.
“I hope you are not too busy to attend the gathering my parents are hosting for Deme and Haven? I am looking forward to seeing your friend, Mr. Smith also (if he can tolerate the unconventional Wimberly’s.) I have thought of you daily over the dreary winter months and hope you will allow me to make up for your first visit this time. Do come, Elisha.
Yours. Lisette.
“Yours,” Elisha murmured. He held the note and looked around, then closed his eyes. Yours. Lifting his lashes, he got to his feet and when entering the study, told Smith that he was included in the invite.
Smith said, “Accept for me, also.”
“I haven’t decided to go.” Elisha laid the note on his desk.
“You will.”
Marston left without answering and entered the hall and the grand lower floors of the manor, turning left to the stairs. On the landing, he saw the nurse seated outside his mother’s door. He started to continue to his sister’s chambers, but walked towards the woman.
“How is she?”
“The same.”
Elisha always asked, and always, got the same answer.
He opened the door to his mother’s rooms, his gaze going to the wheeled chair by the window that she always sat in. His boots hardly made a sound on the carpeted floor, but he knew she was aware of his presence. Going round, into her line of vision, he looked over her expressionless face and eyes, the hands lax on the blanket over her knees. She had a shawl on her shoulders. A cap covered her silver hair.
Elisha leaned down and kissed her brow then stood there another while before leaving and nodding in answer to the small smile the nurse offered.
In his sister’s rooms, he did much the same, crossed to where she sat at the bank of windows, but this time he sat on his haunches and took her hands, his silver gaze meeting hers of like hue.
“I’ve been invited to the Duke and Duchess of Wimberly’s estate again.”
She visually searched his face. “You must go. You must not worry about us, Elisha. Mama will never come back from where she has gone. I will be okay.”
His stomach experienced a dip. No, his mother would never come back. But would Pamela ever feel the way every living person had the right to feel—alive? Her raven hair was combed loose and long, flowing down her back to her hips. However, her face, like her body, was thin and frail—her fullish lips always dry, and her eyes having dark shadows under them.
The hands he held were too thin and cold.
He reached up and touched the fragile skin of her face. “Someday, when you are better, I’ll take you to London, to the finest dressmakers and we’ll go to a grand ball.”
Although she smiled slightly, she said, “It’s all right being happy. It is what I want for you. You have changed much and for the better. You must be happy and live the best life you can, Elisha.”
“You could be too, Pamela.”
She looked away from him and out the window. “I’m content.”
“This is not content.” Elisha released her hand and arose, walking over to open the window to fresh air. “This is not living.”
“It’s the best life I can have.”
“No. No it isn’t.”
“You’re thinking of her? The lady who made you smile again.”
“Yes. They live, Pamela.” He leaned a shoulder against the casement gazing out but seeing memories. “She breathes life into everything she does.”
“Then she is just what you need.”
He glanced at her, always seeing where beauty would have rested should she have had another life. Should she—with mercy, recover. Should everything not have been robbed, and savagely taken from her.
She turned her head and caught him studying her. “Go to her. Go, live, and enjoy life. You have done everything you can. Mama is where she wants to be, and who are we, to force her back? She can exist wherever she has gone to. Last winter, when she was so ill, the nurse said that she gets angry that she recovers. She wants to be released from life, from the memories—and realities. Eventually, she will find mercy and we must not mourn that, brother.”
He held her gaze a moment longer, his heart trembling. “I don’t want you to follow her, Pamela.”
“You should be free of us. You have managed to come out of the worst of it, and you have done everything you can to make up—for—something that was not your fault. None of us would have chosen to be born into this family. Although I profane the word family, calling it such. But you have done the hardest part, Elisha, for all of us.”
“Choose to live, Pamela.” He pulled away and came over to her again, stroking her hair. “I know what I’m asking. Buy you have punished yourself for things that aren’t your fault, too. Do not give him your very life. He stole enough—from all of us.”
She covered his hand at the side of her head, and leaned her cheek against the side of his thigh, while he stood there looking down at her. She said, “Go to the duke and duchess’s, and write to me, tell me how it was.”
He said he would, but Elisha was always afraid of what would happ
en to her whilst he was gone. Afraid—the darkness would consume her.
* * * *
It was some hours later, he sent off his reply. And another week, before he and Mr. Smith were on their way back to London. They were standing in the small garden at the estate however when he admitted, “I shouldn’t do this. I shouldn’t take it further.”
“What would you have done then, if she had accepted your suit the first time?”
“I don’t know. Wed her—and regretted it, for her sake.”
Smith offered, “I think you should tell her everything. I think, you should let her make up her own mind.”
The sinew in Elisha’s dark face tightened. “I can’t do that. I can’t lose what little I have of her feelings for me.”
Smith gazed around the garden, a soft breeze wafting his long hair against his white shirt. “What do you want me to do, Elisha?”
“Be yourself. Enjoy them.”
Studying the man from head to toe, sun glinting on his raven hair, warming his naturally tanned skin, the shirt with sleeves rolled back, in tight-fitted black trousers and boots, Smith brought his gaze back up to that profile that most could only describe as hard and aloof. He would always see so much more.
“There will come a time when the decision has to be made.”
“I know,” Elisha rasped and turned his gray eyes to meet Smith’s. He released smoke he had inhaled from a cheroot. “I’ll walk away, and Lisette will find the man she’s dreamed of—the one who is supposed to be with her. Suited for her. And she’ll be happy.”
“And you?”
“Glad, my friend.” A sad smile lingered on Elisha’s mouth. “Glad that I had whatever I did, with her.”
When he turned his eyes away and walked the garden path, Smith watched him, and now and then saw a vapor of smoke wreath around him. He did not know if he admired Elisha’s selflessness, or was more angered, he did not believe enough in himself, and Lisette—in love, although there was nothing in his life to teach him of the healthy kind, to seize this change at happiness.
He would go, and he would enjoy himself, because it meant everything to Elisha that he do so. However, he watched that figure, always so solitary and aloof, save when Lisette was near, or in his thoughts, and he said a prayer—that love would heal the wounds and banish the ghosts that haunted those who dwelt in this place, forever.
Chapter Six
Wimberly Manor…
The guests began arriving at an early hour, some two dozen, who were friends of the duke and duchess, and a few known to Deme. They were in a celebratory mood, the family and staff, and the servants bustled about, arranging formal lunches, seeing to baggage, essentially doing their jobs well so that the family could relax and enjoy themselves. Flowers and greenery graced the rooms and halls, windows were cleaned and opened, and the courtyard was decorated, tables with white cloths, holding fine wines, overflowing trays, and sparkling china.
Lisette greeted Deme and Haven when they arrived, and then left Haven in her mother’s hands, knowing how important it was for the duchess to show support to, and for, her daughter in a law. A dressmaker was on hand to adjust a ball gown picked out and sewn in stages over the months. The champagne silk would be altered to accommodate Havens growing belly.
As for herself, Lisette wanted simplicity. She chose from the gowns she had never worn, a flowing teal satin, sleeveless, with which she would wear lace fingerless gloves, and her pearls. She had matching pumps and her hair would be done straight with the front pulled up simply too. With the subtle cosmetics, she would be more comfortable than the elaborate style observed in Town. She wanted to celebrate Deme and Haven, and the nephew or niece that would come.
But yes—her eyes were hungry for the site of another.
The night of the party, she scarcely noticed the level of noise had increased. Music in the smaller rear ballroom filled the air. Guests and servants were constant going up and down stairs, their laughter and voices muffled as they passed her door. Her brother James showed up with several comrade in arms, and a couple of beauties—whom her mother had greeted as effusively as she had the grander, more titled and wealthier guests. Her younger sisters would be allowed to stay for some time so long as they behaved.
Lisette remembered her first party. She had been excited for a whole hour, but then ate so much from the delicacies that she’d thrown up in the middle of the ballroom floor. How simple were the problems of childhood, how minor the worries.
Sighing, she whispered, “I’ve grown up. I’ll never be the same.” She acknowledged that much of that was because she had taken Marston for a lover. Certainly, she felt transformed, if not completely happy.
There was too much uncertainty and too many shades of gray to be that.
Lisette thanked the maid who helped her prepare and reached up to touch one of the pearls in her ears. There would little or no time to be with him save a dance perhaps. But if he came, that would be enough. It would mean something. It had to.
She arose and with a last glance at her reflection, left and went below.
Lisette’s heart leapt at the sight of Elisha arriving an hour later, although their greeting took place in the receiving line. Only their eyes spoke. She took in his dark face and was again filled with a sense of his potent presence. She welcomed his friend, and had the sense that the man was observing both, she and Elisha- and when he squeezed her hand after bowing—she felt oddly that he was trying to tell her something.
Having done her duty, Lisette took his arm and offered, “Let me introduce you to everyone, and then the men will drag you off to the card room.”
She did introductions watching Mr. Smith—and admiring his ease and friendly manner, observing him as a man well read, and easily commenting on any topic. When they were with her brother, she saw a spark of humor in him—and since Monty and Deme had Marston in their company, she left Smith with them, receiving another kiss on her hand and a warm smile that echoed in Elisha’s eyes when they parted.
(I cannot tell you.) Lisette mused mentally, walking idly around and occasionally smiling at guests. That is what Marston had said about why Smith used that bogus name. She was curious. There was a connection between the men that was unique. Though Marston seemed to relax with others, she sensed Smith got behind that wall, or whatever it was, that kept him somewhat aloof. Whatever put Elisha on the outside, for most of his life, Smith knew it.
“I’m glad you invited him,” Juliette murmured, as they got champagne.
“I am too.”
Scanning Lisette’s face, her friend offered, “If it’s any help, we all have a good feeling about Marston. And, he is, tall, dark, and handsome.”
Lisette laughed. “It means very much to me, what you think. If—it comes to anything.” She found Marston with her eyes. He was talking to the men, but also looking at her. “And he is handsome, in that very dark and harsh way. But, it is not me pulling back. Yet, I know better than to push too soon.”
Juliette offered, “It will work out, if it is meant to be. Meanwhile, I’m here for you.”
“Thank you.” Lisette grinned softly. “I love you for it.” She winked and then left her side to mingle. She did a lot of that, mingling, keeping in mind it was Deme and Haven’s day—having only a brief dance with the Viscount.
He’d come to her side when she was speaking with someone, and took her hand. She had looked up at him and then moved to the dance floor, eager to be in his arms, if only for a waltz.
“I’m glad you came,” she uttered quietly.
“As am I.” His gaze moved over her and returned to hold hers. “You take my breath away,” his tone was rough.
“You flatter me. But I find that I like being flattered by you.”
His gaze was on her lips next.
Her mouth watered.
They wanted to kiss.
Lisette also knew eyes would be watching. Not just guests, but family. So she whispered, “I want that. Soon.”
He w
hirled her around, “Soon.”
The dance was over. He bowed and upon rising said, “Sometimes I think we’re in a dream.”
Her stomach fluttered. “Then we are having the same one. And if memory serves, we’re enjoying it, very much.”
His mouth did that little curve and she wanted to grab him and ravish him right there. Instead, Lisette turned to dance with her brother who was waiting. Marston was dancing with Haven.
He is here, she told herself when her mind started sifting through every little look and word. That had to be enough, for now.
* * * *
The guests who had remained the following day, after the grand party, were treated to breakfast in the gardens, and afterwards the duke took Aiden, Mr. Smith and Elisha on a tour of the estates. Monty was also in that group, along with Deme.
Lisette kept herself occupied, visiting with Haven, listening to her gushing with happiness at marriage and Rose Hill. Lisette, along with the duchess and Juliette agreed to come and visit there in late summer. It sounded like a wonderful place and any home Haven and Deme had, would be full of entertainment and laughter, and plenty to do.
Evening came, and the men returned and refreshed before they joined everyone.
The duke and duchess settled in the back courtyard, happily looking forward to watching everyone at their leisure. Family and pets were scattered over a wide expanse of lawns and gardens, romping about. The girls were running with their new puppy, and Lisette watched Monty and Mr. Smith begin a game of tennis—which Aiden eventually coaxed Elisha into. She did not know if he could play but was certain that Aiden and the others would teach him.
The men were in casual ware, close-fitted pantaloons and thin linen shirts with no collar and sleeves rolled back. The spring sun was delicate in a blue sky, and the sounds of their masculine laughter, Aiden’s teasing Monty mostly, drew many eyes.
Lisette enjoyed watching Elisha’s body in motion. Even if he did not know most of the sports, he had strength and muscle for them, and yes, it did arouse her watching him move.
