Always the Bridesmaid

by E K Murdoch, Emily

  Tabitha tried to pull away, but he had a firm grip.

  “I have never hidden that from you,” he said sharply. “’Twas never a secret, my desire to remain a bachelor. I have not lied to you–”

  “Ah, but you did not need to, you got what you wanted without lies,” she shot back, tears prickling in the corners of her eyes. “You just wanted to…to make love to me, your grace, and now that you have, I cannot understand why you bothered to see me again.”

  He snorted at her. “If I had just wanted to make love, I could have gone to half a dozen women in London or Bath where I am welcomed for such…” His eyes widened with horror as he heard the words that came out of his mouth. “I did not mean it…”

  “I understand,” she said dully, wrenching her arm from his. “I just did not realize I knew you so little. That I meant that little.”

  The truth hurt her so much. She had to find a way to walk away from him, to preserve her dignity.

  “Am I one of that number now?” she whispered. “Just a tart you can have your way with whenever you choose?”

  Richard shook his head vigorously—looking as guilty as sin. “You mean everything…”

  “I cannot believe you.” What could he possibly say after breaking her heart? “I am used goods, and there is no point attempting to convince me otherwise. But I am even more disgusted with you.”

  He held her gaze, looking wretched.

  “How could you have allowed this to happen? After all the jokes and the laughter of the ton, always the bridesmaid and never the bride, after all of that–you have condemned me, your grace. I will never marry. No one will touch me now.”

  She wanted to make him feel what she felt, standing here in the cold and dark with all hope for the future wrenched away from her.

  He was staring as though he had never seen her before. Perhaps he never had. Perhaps he had never truly seen her as a person. Just as a woman who would give him pleasure.

  Richard swallowed. “I will tell no one, I can assure you.”

  “That does not matter!” She sobbed, tears falling from her eyes. “Because I never want to be married now! Do you not understand, you damned fool? I saw myself married to you, as your wife. That dream is dead now, and you are a liar and thief!”

  He looked astonished at her words, but Tabitha did not care anymore. Why should she care for his emotions? He had given little concern to her own, and look where she was now. Despoiled, never to know the touch of a gentleman again because who would touch her after this? It did not matter what he said—the gossips were guessing about their disappearance at the ball together, and nothing could be less scandalous than the truth.

  “And you thought I was engaged to another,” she said bitterly. “I will never wed.”

  “I should not have thought that,” he said swiftly, trying to reach for her hand. “I apologize, Tabitha–”

  “There are quite a few things you should not have said.” Tabitha smiled weakly through her tears, moving her hand away from him. “At least I see what sort of a man you are.”

  She could not say another word. Turning and striding as fast as she could along the path, she allowed the tears to fall freely.

  “God blast it all!”

  She heard Richard curse under his breath behind her, but she did not turn around. The sound of footsteps echoed in the silence, and once again, a hand reached out and turned her around.

  “Look, marriage is not everything,” Richard said hastily, “it is not the only thing in life worth doing–”

  “’Tis easy for you to say! Yes, it is all very well for a man to say that. You have options, choices before you,” she snapped, pulling away from him and walking toward the gate. He followed, keeping up with her. “But for me, the only choice I have–that I ever had–is whether to marry or not, and you have stolen that.”

  She was walking as quickly as she could. To be away from him, to escape from the torment of his presence.

  “But surely it is not marriage you should be hoping for but love!”

  Tabitha stopped outside the gate and rounded on him, who flinched at the severity of her words. “God’s teeth, have you not been listening to a word I have said? You have no idea what love is, what sacrifice is, what devotion and dedication are, so do not think to lecture me on any such subject! And if you dare to come within ten feet of me again, I shall ensure Lieutenant Thomas Perry gives you a sharp lesson in what happens when you disgrace a lady!”

  Without waiting to hear his response, she grabbed her skirts and half walked and half ran away from him.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The room had been silent until the bottle, dripping with an amber liquid that was pooling on the floor, slipped from the gentleman’s hand and smashed across the floor.

  The sound barely made Richard jump. In his right hand was an exquisite whiskey glass. Without concern for the broken glass surrounding him, he brought the glass to his lips, drained it, and placed it on the table. Beside it stood a fresh, unopened bottle.

  A log moved in the fire. Richard stared at it hazily, unable to focus on the source of the sound.

  Well, this was what drinking gave you. It was difficult to see the attraction his father and brother saw in the habit, but it was impossible to deny it did numb the pain.

  Tabitha’s bitter words rang in his ears, and he could not erase them from his memory. His throat thickened painfully, and to his horror, a tear fell.

  He brushed it away angrily and grabbed at the unopened whiskey bottle.

  It took him a few minutes in his hazy state to open the bottle. Richard raised the bottle to pour some more into his empty glass. He would drink himself to death, that would be easier than living in pain.

  The door to the study opened and there was an almighty crash. Charlotte, her face absolutely horrified, had dropped her tea tray and all it contained.

  “Richard,” she breathed.

  He waved his glass in welcome. “That is my name.”

  “And… is that whiskey?” she rushed toward him.

  She tried to wrench the glass away out of his hand, but he did not give it up without a struggle.

  “No, that’s my drink!” he said angrily.

  When he eventually let go of the glass, he glared at her.

  Charlotte collapsed into the chair opposite him. Before he could say anything, she drank the whiskey herself. “What happened to you?” She placed the empty glass and the bottle she had taken from him on the table behind her chair.

  Richard scowled at her, but his expression softened as he chuckled bitterly. “I never thought I would see my sister put a glass of whiskey away like that.”

  “I never thought I would see my brother drink at all,” she retorted. “Where have you been all afternoon? I waited for you at dinner, but I am afraid Cook would not linger beyond seven. I thought you had gone to see Tabitha.”

  “I did,” he said. “Now give me back my–”

  “No,” she said firmly, an eyebrow raised. “Now tell me exactly what caused you, of all people, to open a bottle of that filthy stuff.”

  Richard shrugged. “’Tis not bad after the fourth glass.”

  Charlotte stared at him as though she had never seen him before. “After all these years of avoiding it, of being strong…why have you given up?”

  He leaned back in his chair and let his gaze drift toward the fire. “Oh, Charlotte. You have it all wrong. I am not strong, I never have been–I am weak and afraid and alone. Just like father was.”

  After everything he had done or tried to achieve, he was doomed to repeat the same mistakes. It did not matter what Tabitha said. It did not matter what anyone said.

  “You are nothing like our father,” Charlotte said coldly, “and he had Mother, though he never cared enough about her to change. Is that you, Richard? Do you care only about yourself? Do you even realize I am right here?”

  He shook his head. “It is not that I do not appreciate it, Lotty, but–”

 
“You paid off the debts, all of them, even when it came at great personal cost,” she said fiercely. “Do you not see how different you are to him?”

  Guilt, an emotion not in short supply, seared his heart and caused a bitter taste in his mouth that had nothing to do with the whiskey.

  “At the cost of your dowry.”

  He chanced a look at his older sister and saw lines around her eyes he had not noticed before.

  Her shoulders slumped but she rallied. “For the good of the family. If you had twenty thousand pounds in your personal fortune, are you honestly telling me you would not have given it up for the family?”

  “I am not sure whether I am as noble as you.”

  “After our idiotic brother drowned his sorrows in a bottle, it was our responsibility to restore the family name,” Charlotte said desperately. “And we did!”

  “And now it is my turn to drown my sorrows,” Richard said with a hiccup. He reached for the whiskey bottle. One more drink, one more bottle, what did it matter? All he wanted to do was remove the distraught look of Tabitha’s face from his mind, but there was not enough whiskey in the world to achieve that.

  Charlotte slapped his arm away. “Tell me about it, Richard.”

  “Tell you what?”

  She gave him the same scowl she had given him when they were children and she had caught him in a lie.

  Richard slumped lower. He could not believe he was discussing his liaisons with Charlotte, but then, who else? It was impossible to hide anything from his sister, and there was no one else he would rather talk to about this.

  Well, perhaps one other.

  “I have had a…misunderstanding. With Tabitha. Miss Chesworth.”

  Charlotte raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

  A wretched, hot embarrassment overwhelmed him. He felt guilty for what he was about to recount, but there was nothing for it. There was no point in trying to explain the whole, sorry business in part.

  “You know me,” he said heavily. “My weaknesses and how I have…arrangements with young ladies. They understand what they are getting into, and I never force anyone to do anything they have no wish to.”

  Charlotte’s cheeks reddened slightly, but she nodded.

  “I thought I could have such an arrangement with…with Miss Chesworth. But it did not go exactly to plan.”

  “Exactly?” his sister repeated with a frown. “What are we talking?”

  There was no easy way to say it, and he took a deep breath. “I wanted to seduce her, perhaps even make her my mistress if…if we were compatible. I came to like her, and when I made my offer again, she…”

  “She got the wrong idea,” he said in a rather strangled voice. “Oh God’s teeth, Lotty, she thought I was offering marriage and accepted me on those terms. We made love, and the misunderstanding has come to light, and I think I have broken her, Lotty. She is utterly broken.”

  Silence fell in the study. Why had he not made sure she had understood? Why had he not taken the time explain everything clearly?

  His sister reached for the bottle of whiskey, poured herself half a glass, and threw it down her throat.

  Richard leaned forward, but she placed the bottle behind her chair once more. “You should not do that, Lotty!”

  “I should not–what about you?” she burst, glaring at him with such ire that he shrank back into his chair. “My word, Richard, if you are not the most ignorant and irritating fool in all of God’s green earth! Are you telling me that you had real happiness in your grasp, the opportunity to be with a woman who likes you–not just admires you, not just interested in your title, but you…and you seduced her without any promises for the future?”

  Her frustration hit him like a sledgehammer. What could he say? He could not disagree with her, and she saw it in his face. Blowing out her cheeks and shaking her head, she stared in utter disbelief.

  “I do not understand you,” she said finally. “Help me to understand, Richard. You had something, and you have lost it. How? Why?”

  Richard felt the emptiness inside his chest. Tabitha was lost to him. He had not even realized what he had until it was too late.

  “It does not matter anyway,” he said dully. “Who is to say happiness with her would have kept the temptations at bay? Perhaps…” The thought which had been plaguing him resurfaced. “Perhaps she is better off far away from me.”

  His sister clicked her tongue in disbelief. “You are the most frightful fool.” Yet, there was kindness in her eyes. “We choose our own paths.”

  Her words were comforting, but it was not the comfort Richard wanted. She could not understand what it was like to be from a long line of terrible men. All the Axwick women had been strong and virtuous.

  “I have chosen,” he said.

  Charlotte snorted. “You have chosen badly. You are choosing misery here, alone in this room, drinking away what you think are your problems, when you have the opportunity to make things right. Why on earth are you not at Miss Chesworth’s, explaining everything?”

  It all sounded easy. She could not know the complexity of everything with Tabitha; the offer of seduction he had made her, the stolen kisses, the thrill of the chase–and the library, the misunderstanding, the conquest and the sweet release of agonizing delight that had built up for weeks. The confusion, the fear of her betrayal, and the terrible knowledge that it was his stupid fault all the sweetness between them had turned bitter.

  His heart was pounding, but it slowed as a new idea crept into his mind. Perhaps it was all incredibly simple.

  He cared about her–loved her, even. Was this love, this needing to be with someone no matter what the cost, the desperate need to care for them, hating being apart from them, admiring everything about them, being overwhelmed by the need to rip any other man apart that threatened what he loved?

  Something lurched in his stomach.

  Oh God, he thought in horror. I am in love. And alone.

  Marriage suddenly did not seem frightening.

  He did love her. Her fire, her spark, the heated passion and wit that he discovered each and every time they had spoken with each other. She was the one bright part of his life. Before he had met her, life was about getting through to the next day, finding money to pay the bills, and keeping the family name alive.

  And now? Now he wanted to see her smile. If he spent the rest of his life working to put a smile on Miss Tabitha Chesworth’s face, it would surely be a life well lived.

  “Charlotte,” Richard said slowly, his eyes making their way back to his sister. “I have made a terrible mistake.”

  She snorted and stood up, taking the whiskey bottle with her. “You are completely right. You have. But mistakes can be fixed. The question is, are you willing to?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The slimy eggs slipped off her fork and onto her plate. Tabitha watched listlessly as her mother’s chatter washed over her like a wave onto the shore.

  “–and of course, I was not expecting her to be here during this Season, but she told me after her daughter’s marriage there was no point staying in London, and here she is! It really is most fortunate, for I did not think we would have any acquaintances also invited to the dinner at the Howards. That makes a rather elegant number for cards afterward, do not you think?”

  There was a silence suddenly, and Tabitha saw her smiling expectantly.

  “Do not you think?” she repeated.

  Tabitha smiled. “I do.”

  “Ah, I thought you would be pleased! I saw how easy it was for you to converse with her daughter, Adena, and of course, once you befriend the daughter, it is always much easier to speak with the whole family–though of course she is not plain old Adena, but the Marchioness of Dewsbury! Now that was a wedding, I am sure you will agree.” Her mother paused to gulp some tea and continued. “I cannot wait to see what the marchioness will be wearing this season. Just like I said to dear Mr. Prander…”

  The words kept coming, and Tabitha tried to fo
cus on her food, but there was such numbness inside her, she could barely concentrate.

  Tabitha, that was about my offer. My offer to seduce you. What I said there, in the library…it was my offer to make love to you. To make both of us happy–to bring both of us pleasure. It was just about that night.

  Try as she might, it was impossible to stop hearing those words. Every time she relived the memories of Sydney Gardens, darkness consumed her heart.

  After waiting for love for so many years and finding it comical when others had made matches which did not suit them, what had she done?

  She had not even found a match. The Duke of Axwick, for that was how she must consider him–had not ever thought of her seriously. He had wanted to ravish her, and now he had moved on.

  When she had finally dragged herself to breakfast at ten o’clock, her mother had noted nothing of it and just allowed her daughter, though teary-eyed and silent, to help herself to food.

  “You have not eaten anything.”

  Tabitha’s gaze jerked up to see her mother, staring. “No, I have not. I am sorry, Mother.”

  Her mother frowned. “Are you ill? Should we call out the doctor?”

  How could she eat after falling in love with a man who did not exist, and she would be ruined if word ever got out.

  Or perhaps it would not matter.

  “Tabitha, can you hear me?”

  Tabitha jolted, startled from her reverie to see her mother standing with a highly concerned look on her face.

  “Please do not concern yourself,” Tabitha said with a watery smile. “I am quite well.”

  She was evidently not convincing, however.

  “Keytes,” Mrs. Chesworth called, and their butler appeared. “Keytes, please be so good as to send a quick note around to Doctor–”

  “Please, I am quite well,” Tabitha interrupted, forcing more feeling into her words. “I am tired, that is all. I…I slept badly.”

  To prove there was nothing to worry about, she picked up her fork and stuffed some cured ham into her mouth. It was dry. She tried not to gag as nausea overwhelmed her.