She had spoken every word while looking at Richard, but he had not looked at her. Indeed, he had turned slightly away from her as she entered the room. Perhaps if he caught her eye, they would be unable to hide their feelings from her mother.
“Ah, well, that is disappointing,” her mother said. “But it is good you were able to see her at all. Did you hear, your grace–”
“Mother,” Tabitha interrupted with a smile, taking a few steps toward Richard. “I am so glad you have had the chance to meet the Duke of Axwick, because…well, you see, the Duke and I are–”
“Going for a walk,” he finished for her.
Tabitha blinked in surprise as Richard stood hastily.
“Are we not, Miss Chesworth?” He glared with such fierceness, the kind she had seen when she had first met him. His presence overpowered her, and she found herself nodding. “It is such a lovely afternoon, Mrs. Chesworth, we thought we would take a walk around the Sydney Gardens. That is, unless you object?”
Tabitha said nothing as her mother spluttered her enthusiastic permission. He was still staring at her, as though he was attempting to tell her something without using words. Something hot was spiraling in her stomach as wild thoughts of kissing against a tree in a secluded part of the gardens swept into Tabitha’s mind.
“Thank you, Mother,” she said quickly. “We will not be long, of course.”
“Just be careful of…”
But before her mother could finish her sentence, Richard had bowed and strode out of the room. Tabitha smiled at the wildness of the man she loved.
“We will not be long,” she promised her mother again before hurriedly following the duke out of the room. He was already standing at the front door, waiting for her.
She stepped through the doorway, pushing against him and smiling as her breasts brushed against his chest. As soon as she was outside, he slammed the door behind them.
It was a short walk to the park. Tabitha hoped they would linger, prolonging the time they had together, but Richard was striding so quickly, she had to run to keep up with him.
“I have missed you,” she said in a low tone. “Why–”
“The weather is indeed cold,” he said in a dull voice as a pair of ladies passed them.
Tabitha blushed. It was best to keep such words of love to herself. They were in public, and it would not do for the gossips of Bath to guess their secret engagement.
But her emotions had been awoken by him–and far more than her emotions–and she simply had to pour some of them out of herself, even if it meant discovery. What harm could it do?
“It seems like forever,” she murmured as they passed under the garden gates, “since I last saw you.”
He nodded but said nothing, eyes fixed ahead of them.
Tabitha licked her lips nervously. “And you…you have been well since then?”
Richard grunted. Now she considered him more closely, he looked sullen or angry. But this was not anger, precisely. It was something more.
A flicker of concern entered Tabitha’s heart.
Was it possible, despite all of her hopes, that he was going to change his mind and not marry her? The very thought was painful. Could he regret making love to her? Could he be worried that she was with child? He had forgone the hope of fatherhood for so long. Was he terrified at the very thought of it?
They walked for several minutes in complete silence and without passing a single person.
Then Tabitha grabbed at his arm and brought Richard to a halt. “Is there something on your mind?”
They stood there, a mere foot apart, and still he would not look her in the eyes. “No.”
“Yet, you are quiet,” Tabitha said softly. “Why?”
Richard shrugged. “No reason. A man may be quiet if he wants to be.”
He was prickly.
A wintery breeze brushed through the gardens, and Tabitha shivered. The sunlight was fading, and they could not stay long without a chaperone. But this was her time with him, and she would not waste it.
Smiling, she took his hand in hers and squeezed it. He did not return the act of affection, but he did finally look her in the eyes–and Tabitha was surprised to see not love but something bordering on irritation.
“You know,” she said quietly, taking a small step toward him and trying to ignore the desire to just kiss him. “I have found my bed rather empty without you in it.”
She thought her words would warm his spirits, but something strange flickered across his face–something akin to…jealousy.
“We have only made love,” he snapped, wrenching his hand from hers. “If you miss the feeling of a man beside you, you must be accustomed to sharing it with someone else.”
Tabitha stared at him in horror. “Someone–someone else?”
It had to be a joke–a bad one, made in poor taste. But he glared, and the fire in his eyes had no warmth like before. Where there had once been desire, there was only bitterness.
“How could you possibly think that of me?”
Chapter Sixteen
Richard had never before understood the expression to make one’s blood boil. He could feel it frothing in his veins, pounding in his ears, and throbbing in his chest.
He stared at Tabitha. She looked surprised to be told of her treachery.
“How can you say that?” she repeated, her arms listlessly at her sides.
His fingers felt as though they were on fire. It was not purely anger but pain, too.
How could he have allowed himself to get into this blasted position? How could he have opened up after years of bedding women without any thought to consequences–after vowing never to get emotionally involved, to avoid marriage, to ensure the family line was not to continue?
“I said it,” he growled through gritted teeth as a couple passed them arm in arm, “because you are engaged to another, Tabitha–no, do not deny it! You have been playing with me, playing like a dog plays with a toy. Seeing what I will say, what I will do, how much I will declare to you…”
Richard’s voice trailed off as pain overcame him. The woman who had caused so much agony was staring, eyes wide. It did naught but increase her beauty, and a stab of shame hit his stomach that he could have been so weak, so easily taken in.
“H-how could you?” Tabitha spluttered, trying to collect herself before speaking. “How could you possibly think that?”
“I will tell you what I think,” he muttered. “I think you have been lying from the beginning. I think you were already engaged to this other gentleman, whoever he is, and you just…just wanted to play up to the idea you had been passed over by other gentlemen. This always a bridesmaid nonsense…I should have seen through it immediately.”
“Play up to the idea?” She looked utterly shocked. “What are you talking about, Richard?”
Her words tore into his heart like ice, and Richard actually took a step back, unable to be close to her.
“Richard, I do not understand,” she said. “Has someone told you something of me–something false that I can explain?”
Richard shook his head, dark hair falling over his eyes, and he brushed it away irritably.
A gentleman passed them, nodding politely to Richard who merely scowled back. What right did anyone else have to be here, in his private hell?
Someone’s hand was on his arm pulling him off the path and toward some trees. It was Tabitha.
“What the–”
“Come with me,” she said firmly. After taking a few more strides, making sure they were hidden from the path, Tabitha rounded on him with a frown. “Now then, Richard St. Maur, it is my turn to speak. You have said naught but wild accusations of myself and another gentleman–which is complete nonsense–and I have only ever told you the truth. I am not engaged to another, and I never have been.”
Richard stared. Her eyes were bright, but every word out of those delectable lips sounded like lies. How could he trust her, knowing she had been to Mr. Birch to prepare for a husban
d?
“Someone,” he said in a slightly strangled voice, “someone of good standing has told me you were engaged to another.”
It was Tabitha’s turn to take a shocked step back. Her hand fluttered to her chest, and she whispered, “Engaged to another?”
Richard nodded curtly and glanced at the path. There was no point standing here, like two lovers hoping for a secretive stolen kiss. He had never felt more alone, even with Tabitha right before him.
“But that is not true,” she said and she reached out to take his face in her hands. It hurt to see them, the same eyes that had caught his when he had made love to her. “Who told you this?”
Richard opened his mouth to answer but hesitated.
“Why, just this morning, a young lady came to see me–a very wealthy young lady–to make some changes to her fortune, for she is to be married. To tell the truth, she is a young lady which the tittle tattle pages of Bath would be most intrigued to see walk up the aisle.”
Now he came to think about it, Birch had never actually stated the young woman’s name. Bath was not a large place, to be sure, but it was certainly possible there was more than one young lady of fortune who had visited an accountant that morning.
Richard hardened his resolve. No, Birch could have meant no other. You had to be deaf and blind not to hear the jokes about Miss Tabitha Chesworth.
“It was my accountant, Mr. Birch,” he said curtly. “I saw him this afternoon on a matter of business, and he intimated to me that a young woman would be getting married.”
Tabitha laughed. “And you took that, of course, to mean that I was engaged to another man?”
“I do not have this conversation for my own pleasure,” retorted Richard, hands flexing with frustration. The night was drawing in, but he had never felt so unbearably hot in all his life. “He said the gossips of Bath would be most interested to see that young lady walk up the aisle.”
The words echoed around the glade of trees, and all the fight disappeared from Tabitha’s body. Her shoulders slumped, and her gaze finally dropped to the mud beneath their feet.
The temptation to ignore all his fears, to ignore the words of Birch, to ignore all his instincts, almost took over. By God, what he would give to wash away the last few hours of knowledge and take Tabitha in his arms and…
“And that is all?” Tabitha asked. “Is my notoriety as a young lady no one would like to marry enough to convince you that someone else must wish to?”
Richard would not back down. “You were that woman,” he said with more certainty than he felt. “I have no doubt of that, Tabitha.”
She laughed again, but it was a derisive laugh that cut him. “Because you are able to see all things? You may be a duke, but that does not make you omniscient!”
“Because your mother told me today you had gone to your accountant this morning.”
She stared as though he had gone completely mad, and Richard wondered if he had. What had he come to, standing in a public park and hissing accusations at a young woman who could have done nothing wrong? How could he say such things to the woman he regarded as the greatest person he had ever met?
Tabitha raised her hands in mock surrender. “You are a complete fool.”
Richard opened his mouth to retort but could think of nothing to say.
Her breath billowed out in the cold air. “Richard, I did go to see my accountant this morning, and that accountant was Mr. Birch, and it…it was in preparation for marriage and–”
“Aha–I knew it, I knew I should have trusted my instincts!” he said, thrusting an accusatory finger in her face. “I knew you were engaged to another.”
“If you would let me finish.” She glared at him with such ferocity, he felt slightly cowed. “Oh, Richard. I do love you, and I can see our life together is going to be far more exhausting and exhilarating than I had first supposed.”
Richard’s mind, frazzled with fear and hope and jealousy, took a little while to fully understand her words.
“The marriage I was preparing for with Mr. Birch was our own.”
A bolt of lightning overhead would have been nothing compared to the shock ricocheting through his body.
Their marriage?
But they were not engaged to be married. He had never even considered making such an offer. In the future, perhaps, after a few years of trust and understanding, but now? How in God’s name could she think such a thing?
When did she even think a proposal had been made?
“You see?” Tabitha said quietly, taking his hands and squeezing them. “Oh, Richard, to see you jealous over yourself…once I had understood, it was quite amusing. My love, there is no one else, only you. My betrothed. In a few months, my husband.”
“My betrothed. In a few months, my husband.”
The words echoed around Richard’s mind like a gunshot, and it dawned on him.
He had to tell her. He had to explain this terrible mistake. How it had been made, he had no idea. How he could have possibly prevented it, he could not tell. But despite Tabitha clearly wishing it, they were not engaged.
Richard swallowed. This was not the conversation he had expected to have. If he did not say something…
“Tabitha,” he said quietly. “We are not engaged.”
Chapter Seventeen
She stared him. The man she loved–the man she had given everything, absolutely everything to.
All the sound in the Sydney Gardens—the carriages trundling by on the nearest street, the horses neighing in the cold winter evening air, the people talking on the path, the laughter of revelers making their way to their evening entertainment… It all faded into nothingness.
The world was without sound and without color. All she could see was Richard, tall and brooding, face contorted with confusion. All she could hear were his last words.
We are not engaged.
Only the biting evening air reminded her that this was not some sort of fantastical nightmare, but her real life.
“We are,” she said eventually, her eyes not leaving his. “We are engaged, Richard.”
He laughed bitterly and shook his head. “Tabitha, I think I would certainly know if we were engaged. You are going to have to trust me when I say we are not.”
She shook her head, as though she could rid her mind of his words. This could not be happening–this was a mistake, a misunderstanding. All she had to do was explain everything, and he would recall his proposal…short though it had been.
“You asked me,” she said quietly, “in the library. You asked me, and I said yes, while we were…”
Tabitha felt her cheeks flush at exactly what they had been doing when he had made that offer, his hands on her breasts, his lips on her neck–well, it was no wonder he did not remember saying those exact words.
“While we were kissing, Richard.”
She had not expected him to be embarrassed. Waving his hand as though batting away her words, Richard shook his head.
“As glorious as that moment was, Tabitha, I did not lose my head sufficiently to offer marriage when I certainly was not considering doing so,” he said seriously. “You knew my offer.”
Tabitha stared in disbelief. She would not have made this up, she could not have fabricated such an offer. What had Richard said, what were his exact words?
She closed her eyes. She had had one leg wrapped around him, the spines of the books digging into her back and forcing her closer to him, closer than she had ever been, and she had glorified in it, loved it, loved the feeling of his fingers brushing past her nipples, loved the kisses that deepened and deepened as she moaned into his mouth…
Tabitha, will you make me very happy?
“You said,” she spoke slowly, opening her eyes to gaze into his own. “You said Tabitha, will you make me very happy? And I said yes.”
Richard’s face darkened.
“Tabitha, that was about my offer. My offer to seduce you. To make both of us happy–to bring both of us pleasure
. It was just about that night.”
Her mouth fell open in horror. No–no this could not be. There was no possible way she could have misunderstood, surely?
“It was just about that night,” she repeated in a hollow voice. “Just about the pleasure. Not about me?”
“Now, I did not say that,” Richard said hastily. “I do not mean that, Tabitha, I–”
“And there they are, your true colors,” she said bitterly, taking a step away from him. “I knew they would come out eventually and your true intentions would be revealed. All you wanted was my body.”
“No, I–”
“I wish I had been strong enough to withstand you long enough to discover it for myself,” she said, every word pouring out of her like bile, purging the hurt and the pain from her, because she had never felt pain like this. “I suppose I am lucky you have only had two sordid encounters from me.”
She could not face him. As he reached out and tried to take her hand, she pulled away. “Were all your stories about your father and brother even true? All those sorrowful tales about debts and gambling, or had you perhaps heard about my father? Did you create that story to get close to me, your grace, was that all part of the plan?”
She had been so foolish, so easily flattered into giving herself up. The perfect story to gain her affections.
Shame, embarrassment, pride—they all rushed through her. Tabitha turned away, unable to think, desperately attempting to hold back tears.
How could this have happened? Discovering the man she loved, and she did love him, had absolutely no desire to be with her?
She did not know Richard St. Maur, sixteenth Duke of Axwick, at all.
“I am one in a long line of ladies,” she said, “who has been taken in with your words and kisses.”
She wanted to walk away from him but did not have the strength. She could barely stand. If she took another step, then she would collapse under the weight of her tears.
“Tabitha…” He grabbed her arm and turned her to face him. “Every word I said to you was true, I swear it, and not just about my father and brother, but about my vow. I just do not wish to wed.”
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