The butler glanced between mother and daughter. Tabitha chewed the ham with difficulty.
“Hmm.” Mrs. Chesworth sat and waved Keytes away with a hand. “We will see how you fare this afternoon.”
Bowing, the butler left the breakfast room. Tabitha chose a piece of toast and carefully buttered it, wincing at the noise of the scraping knife.
“May I ask,” said her mother quietly as she poured herself another cup of tea, “whether these thoughts keeping you up at night are about a certain handsome someone who shall remain nameless between us? Is he likely to call again today?”
Tabitha flushed. The duke was not going to call today or any other day in the future. She would never see him again, and when she had thought about all the things she had wanted to say to him, she had cried endlessly.
How could she have ever thought of giving herself to him? Had she valued herself so little?
“–I said, are you?”
Tabitha heard the slam of a teacup back on the table and saw her mother staring at her with a hint of annoyance.
“I am sorry, what did you say?”
For the first time in their conversation, Mrs. Chesworth glared with definite irritation. “Tabitha, I have the strangest impression you are not listening to me.”
Tabitha sighed. “My apologies again, Mother, I…I am very tired. Please, would you repeat what you said?”
“I said, I am going to the Pump Room in twenty minutes,” her mother repeated, “and if you would like to accompany me, then you are going to have to be quick.”
The thought of leaving the house and going into public was too much.
“I think I would rather stay at home today,” she said finally. “I have a slight headache coming, and I think it best I remain here.”
Mrs. Chesworth looked critically at her daughter and hummed under her breath. Then she threw up her hands and smiled. “You are your own person, Tabitha, and it is not for me to tell you what to do. Stay here. Rest–your letter should be a nice way to spend an hour or two.”
Tabitha blinked. “Letter?”
Mrs. Chesworth laughed as she rose from her seat. “Really, Tabitha, you must not have slept at all last night! The letter Keytes gave you ten minutes ago, my dear, it is right beside your plate.”
Without another word, she bustled out of the room.
Tabitha looked down. Beside her plate, just as her mother had said, was a letter. It looked as though it had travelled a long way with a slight rip in one corner and what could be a water stain across one side. Someone must have had placed their glass upon it at one point in its travels, but the handwriting was still clear, and she recognized it.
Mabel. A smile crept over her face. A letter from Mabel–of course, she had promised she would write as soon as she was able, and it had been weeks since they had last seen each other, weeks since…the wedding.
Swallowing the painful thought of weddings and marriage, Tabitha picked up the letter and used her clean knife to break the seal. It was not nearly as long as she had hoped for.
Dear Tabitha,
As I write you these lines, it is strange indeed to think how long it has been since we saw each other–almost five weeks! Five long weeks.
So much changed on that day, and of course so much has happened since then, the lieutenant has just reminded me of how much we have seen! Paris, of course, where we spent some lovely time with his cousin who is still serving out there. The gentlemen of our army are, without a doubt, some of the finest young men I have ever seen, Tabitha, and I have to say, I consider myself very fortunate indeed to have married one.
The food in France is not at all what you would think, and I do not recommend it. Darling Perry was brave enough to try snails, but I shrieked that I could not. The darling man did not force me.
After Paris was Lyon, which is farther than I could have dreamed. After that, Marseilles…or to tell the truth, it could have been the other way around, these French cities all start to merge into one. But when we reached Italy, that was when I truly fell in love with traveling.
Oh, Tabitha, if I could show you some of the marvels I have seen! I truly do not think I will ever find true comfort at home after traveling so far. It is like stepping into a history book, being here in Rome where we have been these last three days, and although we are due to leave here in one more day, I have begged Perry whether we may not stay a full week, for there is much more to see. I feel one cannot spend too much time in Rome.
It was in Rome that I answered for the first time to Mrs. Perry, and I cannot tell you what a joy it was. You spend so much of your life answering to one name that it is a shock to suddenly have another.
And it feels right. I feel I have been Mrs. Perry for hundreds of years, and I would not change it for the world. As I think back to our wedding day (and that does feel like hundreds of years ago!) I am grateful I had you by my side as I blossomed from plain old Miss Reed to Mrs. Thomas Perry.
Tell me all your news, if you have any.
With love from your dearest cousin,
Mabel
She carefully folded the letter and smiled. Mabel’s absence from Bath had never been more keenly felt, and she could have benefited greatly from a friend’s listening ear now. There was no mention of her own letter, no questions about the gentleman who had stolen her heart. But Mabel’s mind was absolutely swimming with married life. It was strange to think of her as Mrs. Perry.
So much changed on that day, and of course so much as happened since then…
Mabel could not know how right she was. So much had occurred since they had last seen each other.
In a wild moment of madness, Tabitha’s mind was overwhelmed with the image of herself walking down the aisle in a blue wedding gown, with no one else in the church except the Reverend Michaels and Richard St. Maur, waiting for her at the altar.
But then he, too, disappeared, and she was left in the church to face the reverend alone and abandoned.
She swallowed. But what if the story was different? What if it had all been different? What if instead they could be happy and in love, wedded with nothing to keep them apart from each other? She saw them sitting happily in the library, the same library where she thought he had proposed to her–and a child ran into the room, a young boy with the same hair as her but with Richard’s wicked laugh.
A tear fell. Tabitha brushed it from the letter, unfolded the paper, and read it again.
She had expected to feel envious once she received news of her cousin, but she was not.
A wedding was all very well, and it was undoubtedly nice to be the most important person in the room for a day–but it was just one day. It was a marriage that she wanted, a real one, in which she was not just loved but respected.
That was what Mabel had found. Lieutenant Perry clearly adored his wife, and that did spark envy.
Another tear fell and smudged a line of writing on the paper. Tabitha folded it up as she dashed away her tears and picked up that morning’s newspaper. Rifling through the pages to the gossip where she could at least escape into someone else’s life.
A small paragraph caught her eye.
We are pleased to discover that one of the most noble of our dear town’s current inhabitants, a certain duke, has finally left bankruptcy behind and become solvent again. After years of struggling to pay a single bill, it is our delight to report that he now has money to burn–and is likely to use it to pave the route down the aisle with a certain young lady who has journeyed down it before not once, not twice, but thrice–but with no personal happy outcome.
This was another guess off the mark, surely. The Bath Chronicle always suggested wild things and before, they had always made her smile.
Could Richard be so mercenary? Had that been his true purpose, to bed her and then trick her out of her fortune?
Surely their encounters had been more. In every encounter with him, he had always made her happy. Sometimes she did not understand him or herself when she was
with him, but he had made her happy.
He had never asked about her money. Her fortune had never been a topic of conversation for them. But now that she came to think about it, it was surely not possible he had sought her only for her body alone.
Without warning, she stood up, the newspaper falling to the floor. What was she doing here, lounging around and wallowing in her misery–when she could try to be happy?
He cared about her in some way, though what way, she was not sure, but he did. He made her feel things she had never experienced before.
He still wanted her, and what did it matter if it was not for marriage? Tabitha swallowed, but continued thinking. Who cared what society thought if joy could be within her grasp?
She almost laughed aloud. It was ridiculous, but it made sense. As long as he was honest with her from this day onward, could they perhaps reach a new understanding?
A slight tug of regret pulled at her heart, but she pushed it away. No, this was the way it had to be–the only way she could find happiness again. Marriage was all very well, but true happiness was not always found there. She would be with Richard as his mistress. Nothing could replace how he made her feel.
She wanted him.
Tabitha walked to the door but was intercepted by her mother.
“Ah, Tabitha! You are coming to the Pump Room, then?”
Tabitha stared. “Pump Room? No, I am sorry, Mother. I am actually in a hurry to go and see–”
“I would not bother,” Mrs. Chesworth said breezily, returning to the hallway and pulling on a pair of black leather gloves. “I have just heard from the butler no less–the St. Maurs have decided to leave Bath and go back to the family estate. They left this morning, in quite a rush, Keytes says.”
Tabitha deflated, her shoulders slumping. From such hope to such misery. He had retreated, leaving her behind.
“It must be very difficult for his lordship to be back there,” tutted her mother, adjusting her bonnet in the looking glass.
Tabitha snorted. “Honestly, Mother, how difficult can it be for a duke to return to his home?”
Bonnet still crooked and with a rather menacing hatpin in her hand, Mrs. Chesworth turned to stare at her daughter in frank amazement. “You mean…you mean to tell me you do not know?”
Tabitha frowned. “Know?”
Her mother hesitated. “I thought you had heard, my dear, otherwise, I would not have…well, I suppose there is no harm in telling you, such a close friend of the duke’s as you are…”
She simply stared at her mother in confusion.
“It was all over town when it happened, but of course you were very young then. His father had a terrible reputation.”
Tabitha took a step forward and removed the hatpin from her mother’s hand. “I know about all that,” she said quietly, carefully moving her mother’s bonnet to rest at an elegant angle.
“But what you were probably unaware of,” Mrs. Chesworth said, catching her daughter’s eye in the looking glass, “was that he used to beat his sons. Terribly so, I heard from Doctor Wade. There was talk the daughter–Charlotte, I think, or Caroline–was beaten, too.”
Tabitha stared in horror at her mother’s reflection. “No,” she breathed.
He surely could not have suffered in such an awful way–and Lady Charlotte as well? How could Richard never have mentioned this to her?
Her mother tutted, and Tabitha carefully slid the hatpin into place.
“’Tis no wonder the current duke has taken so long to settle down,” said Mrs. Chesworth sadly, turning to face her daughter with a wry smile, “with a father like that.”
Tabitha nodded mutely.
“Now,” her mother said briskly. “I will be home for luncheon, I expect, and I presume I will see you here then? If your headache does not become anything worse, I mean?”
Tabitha swallowed. There was so much about Richard she had not discovered. This small revelation proved that. She could now see the lingering effects of that damage in him. There were scars there, and it would take time for them to heal.
She wanted to be with him. She loved him, and whether or not Richard wanted to marry her, she needed to be with him.
“No,” she said, and found to her surprise her voice was calm. “I am sorry, Mother, but I am leaving town.”
Mrs. Chesworth had already started walking toward the door, but she paused in surprise and looked back. “Really? For how long?”
Tabitha smiled. “I think I am about to find out.”
Chapter Twenty
Richard threw down the book he had attempted to read for the last twenty minutes. He had grabbed a few volumes from the library in Bath, the one at Stonehaven Lacey left so sparse after the sale of its contents, but he had not taken in a single word.
Ye gods, was there anything worse than returning to this place? Every time he thought he was free from it, he was pulled right back. Back to the home filled with secrets and pain.
If only Charlotte had accompanied him. She had almost been convinced, but just the day before had agreed to act as chaperone for Miss Darby, and that meant staying in Bath for the next week. It was only when Charlotte was not with him that he realized how he depended on her. He had left Bath four days ago, but it felt like four hundred years.
And there they are, your true colors. I knew they would come out eventually, and your true intentions, your true interest would be revealed. All you wanted was my body.
Richard sighed and got to his feet, glass in hand. Like a caged animal, he began to pace the room, shaking his head as though that would rid his mind of her words. They pained him more than anything, and the more he dwelled on them…well, it was impossible to deny their truth.
He winced. It was still painful to think of her, why?
He stopped at the high windows overlooking the lawn. It had been foolish of him to mention the other women he had previously encountered. Why had he done so? He had been selfish there, selfish and stupid. He had feared losing her and had lashed out when really…
Richard moved to the fireplace and stopped pacing. His mother had placed a looking glass there to bring light into the overly dark room. The whiskey glass was empty now, the liquid scattered over the carpet. He put it on the mantle and gazed at himself in the looking glass.
Red-rimmed eyes looked back. There were new wrinkles and a rather wan tinge to his complexion. Worse of all was the sense of absolute desolation in his eyes. He looked lost. Completely lost.
Richard’s gaze dropped to his feet. He had been handsome all his adult life and the ladies of the ton had flocked to him, but his fine features had not helped him when real love faced him.
Real love. He had not believed such a thing existed a year ago, and now look at him!
No, he could not think of her like that, it did her no justice. He cared about her in a way he had never cared before. His sister had always spoken of soulmates, and he had laughed at her, but now… he was not sure.
What else could explain this ache inside his chest, as though his heart had been scooped out and taken away? He felt empty without her. It was an ache not only in his loins, but his stomach, his chest, and his mind. An ache nothing could cure.
How long he stood staring into the looking glass waiting for the reflected Richard St. Maur to give some sort of answer, he did not know. He would have remained there indefinitely if the door to the hallway had not opened, and Matthews stepped in.
“I do beg your pardon, your grace,” said the butler smoothly. “I hate to disturb you, but there is a young lady to see you.”
Richard snorted, and he saw Matthews raise an eyebrow.
“I speak nothing but the truth, your grace,” he said in a reproving voice Richard would not have accepted from any other servant. “She is waiting in the hallway. Shall I send her in?”
The duke hung his head, rattling through the extensive list of eligible young ladies who lived in the local village who threw themselves at him whenever he was back. Most of them had
no wish to come here, sent by their mamas in the hope of catching him–Maria Holland perhaps, or Rebecca Sutton?
“Whoever it is, send them away,” he said with a growl. “I have no wish to see anyone today, blast you.”
Despite the incivility, Matthews replied calmly. “If I were to be so bold as to give advice to your grace, I would recommend you see her.”
“I did not ask for your opinion,” snapped Richard, jerking his head around to glare at the servant.
Matthews met his irritable stare with a perfectly calm one of his own, not moving an inch.
Richard sighed. “Unless it is Miss Tabitha Chesworth, Matthews, send them away and go to hell yourself.”
“Now, that is not a very nice way to speak to such a kind man, is it Matthews?”
It was a woman’s voice, and she pushed past the butler and glared at Richard, whose mouth fell open.
It was Tabitha.
Nothing coherent came to Richard’s mind, and he could say nothing to the mirage standing before him. He had wished for her to be here, and here she was. It was a trick of the whiskey.
“Why thank you very much, Miss Chesworth,” said Matthews smoothly with a bow of the head.
“You are very welcome,” said Tabitha, ignoring Richard but beaming at the older gentleman as she pulled off her gloves and unpinned her bonnet. “That will be all, Matthews.”
Richard stared as the butler took the proffered hat and gloves, inclined his head once again to the young woman, and left the room, a smile on his face as he closed the door behind him.
“Y-you cannot speak to my servants like that!” Richard managed to bluster.
He did not know whether he wanted Tabitha to shout, laugh, or speak coldly–all of those options and more spun through his mind, and he could not tell which was worse.
She did none of them. Completely ignoring his words, she strode toward him. For one heady heartbeat, Richard was convinced she was going to kiss him. He almost reached out for her, her softness and her warmth, everything that was Tabitha.
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