by Lucy Adams
Much to her surprise, Lord Montrose leaned forward and pressed his hand to hers. Eliza started in surprise, her head lifting to see Lord Montrose looking at her with a broad smile on his face. His anger seemed to have gone completely, his dark look now replaced with one of what appeared to be a deep sense of joy. Was he truly so easily able to forgive her?
Unless he is pleased that he has been able to remove such thoughts from your mind, as Lord Hollard suggested, said a small voice in Eliza’s head. Unless this smile is one of triumph and victory.
Throwing aside such thoughts, Eliza tried to focus on Lord Montrose, aware that heat was crawling up her spine and was soon sure to fill her cheeks yet again.
“You need not beg for forgiveness, Lady Wells,” Lord Montrose said, gently, his eyes glowing with apparent tenderness. “I have already given it. It is understandable, as you have said, that one might seek out or simply listen to, the comments of others, but I beg you not to allow them to linger in your mind. They are not worthy of your consideration.”
Eliza nodded, swallowing hard. “Thank you, Lord Montrose,” she replied, slowly becoming aware that, despite the fact his hand was resting on hers, she was not reacting to his touch in any way at all. In fact, she was not at all excited or even delighted by his hand on hers. It brought her no happiness, no relief, no joy.
“Although I was interested to hear comment of your mother,” she continued quickly, before she quite lost her nerve. “You have never spoken of her.”
Lord Montrose shrugged, his fingers tightening a little. “I do not often see her and she certainly takes very little to do with my endeavors,” he replied, with a gentle tone to his voice that Eliza was certain was meant to reassure her. “She never comes to town and I have no intention of encouraging her in that way. You will be introduced to her at some point, but do not concern yourself with her for the present. If she chooses to come to town then I shall, of course, make sure to inform you long before she arrives.”
His touch, his smile and the tender tone of his voice did nothing to encourage Eliza in any way. Instead, she felt a twisting of her stomach, her skin crawling as his thumb rubbed absently over the back of her hand.
What had occurred? Only recently, she had been quite certain that she felt something sincere for Lord Montrose. She had told herself that she found him both amiable and handsome and her heart had, she was quite certain, skipped a beat on one or two occasions. His smiles always had a way of edging their way into her heart, his conversation and ease of manner encouraging her to think of him affectionately.
And yet now, she felt nothing of the sort. There was no reaction to his nearness whatsoever. Her heart was not fluttering within her chest as it had done before. Instead, Eliza realized that she was beginning to shirk away from him, wanting him to remove his hand and sit back in his seat so that they might be quite separate again. She had no desire to continue such intimacies and certainly no eagerness to have further such things either.
Goodness, this truly was most concerning.
“We should return to the house,” she said, slowly, wanting to set their conversation to one side for the moment. “There is our dinner party this evening and I must prepare.”
Lord Montrose’s smile grew, his eyes lingering on her. “You shall steal everyone’s eye,” he replied, letting go of her hand and sitting back into his chair. “And yet I shall be the only gentleman present who can speak of an intimacy with you that none there have ever experienced.”
He sounded almost proud of this and, even though Eliza knew that he was doing his best to compliment her, she found it difficult to respond to him in kind.
“I am looking forward to this evening a great deal,” Lord Montrose continued, evidently unaware of Eliza’s lack of response. “It shall be quite the occasion, I am sure.”
“Indeed,” Eliza murmured, thinking of each of her sisters and praying that none would say anything out of turn that might embarrass her further. “I do hope it shall go well.”
Lord Montrose laughed heartily, as though she had said something quite ridiculous. “It shall be more than wonderful, Lady Wells. After all, what could go wrong with something as simple as dinner?”
Chapter Six
As it turned out, a very good deal could go wrong.
Eliza, who had taken her leave of Lord Montrose and hurried up to her bedchamber at once to prepare, found herself both agitated and upset. Without truly being aware of what was causing her angst, Eliza found herself wanting to bury her head in her hands and weep, to let the pain and frustration and embarrassment come from her so that she would not have to bear the burden of them any further.
What had occurred on her carriage ride with Lord Montrose had been entirely unpleasant and, even now, as Eliza took her bath in preparation for this evening, she found that her mind was still greatly troubled, still trying to make sense of what had been said and shared.
What was even more difficult to understand now was her lack of response to Lord Montrose’s gentle affections. She had gone from believing herself to have a growing affection for the gentleman to now discovering that she had wanted nothing more than to return home, so that she might be able to remove herself from his presence.
When he had removed his hand from hers, when the gentle touch had come to an end, Eliza had been filled with relief instead of regret. Her breath had come a little easier, her shoulders had eased back down, her mind silently begging the carriage driver to spur the horses on a little more.
When Lord Montrose had taken his leave, with the warm promise that he would see her again in a few hours time, Eliza had found her skin crawling as he had bent over her hand. There had been no joy in her knowledge that she would be in his presence once more very soon, no happiness in the expectation of seeing him dressed in all his finery for such an occasion. Instead, she had found herself desperate to be alone, to be away from him, almost wishing that the time until the dinner party would lengthen itself instead of shortening.
“You are being quite foolish,” Eliza muttered to herself, allowing the rose scented water to wash over her skin as she sank back against the copper tub. Her eyes closed tightly, her mind struggling to find a peace that she had seemed to lose entirely of late.
It was all to do with the duke’s return, of course. That was the most obvious explanation. His return to London had thrown her into confusion, even though she had been certain of her decision to refrain from his company and instead, pursue a furthering of her acquaintance with Lord Montrose. There was nothing more to concern herself with as regarded Avondale, for she was not about to be in his company particularly often and therefore, all that was required of her was to chase away any thoughts of him that came to her mind.
Closing her eyes, Eliza gritted her teeth and determined that she would not allow thoughts of the duke to ruin her intimacy with Lord Montrose. Even though her heart had slammed into her chest painfully on seeing him laughing and smiling with Titania last evening, she would not permit such emotions to run wild through her. Avondale could speak to whomever he wished and she ought to do all she could to ensure it did not affect her in any way.
Her heart, however, was quite unwilling to accept such a determination, for it began to quicken at just the memory of seeing the duke again. At times, Eliza had found herself wondering about what Avondale’s explanation for his sudden and unexpected decision to marry another would have been, her mind trying to untangle her thoughts about what might have occurred, even though she had very little idea.
It was deeply sorrowful, of course, that his wife had died so soon into their marriage, but Eliza did wonder whether Avondale had truly felt a good deal of grief over her loss, given that they had been wed for such a short time. She knew nothing about the lady in question and had very little idea about her family or the like. Eliza certainly had asked herself, over and over again, what this particular lady had offered the duke to have him marry her instead of remaining with Eliza, but of course had never been able to
find the answers.
The answers were waiting for her now, however, if only she could permit the duke a few minutes to explain himself.
Splashing the water impatiently with her hand, Eliza shook her head and rose from the water, calling the maid to come and help her dry and dress. She could not continue to be so tumultuous in her thoughts, going from a determination to refuse to even speak to Avondale to then deciding that she might wish to know what it was he wanted to say to her. She had to be firm in her decision. Avondale was a part of her past and, since she was determined to set her back to it, that meant that any explanation was not worth even listening to. After what she had said to Lord Montrose and after the embarrassment and shame that had been heaped onto her shoulders thereafter, Eliza knew she could not even permit herself to question his character again. She had to set her heart on one gentleman and be completely decisive in all that she did thereafter.
Avondale would be dismissed from her heart and mind entirely.
“Good evening, Your Grace. I am delighted that you were able to accept at such short notice.”
Eliza closed her eyes tightly, feeling a swirling sense of both fear and shock writhing its way through her. She could not quite believe what she had heard but yet found herself rooted to the spot, unable to even turn her head to confirm what her mother had just said.
“Ah, Eliza.”
Titania hurried to her side, a small smile on her face and a bright look in her eyes that betrayed a certain mischievousness.
“I must apologize to you, Eliza, for I quite forgot to inform you that His Grace would be joining us for dinner this evening,” Titania continued, as Eliza forced herself to draw in air. “Again, my deepest apologies for not doing so beforehand. I have quite failed in my responsibilities, I know.”
Eliza could barely speak, one hand pressed against her stomach in an attempt to calm herself. The dinner party was only to be sixteen and with herself, her mother, her three sisters and Dinah, that only made for ten guests.
Now, it seemed, there was to be eleven.
“I did not….I do not…..” Eliza shook her head, screwing up her face for a moment in an attempt to regain herself. “You invited the duke to join us?”
Titania nodded blithely, a smile still on her face. “Of course. He is almost like family, is he not?”
“But you know what he did, Titania,” Eliza whispered, hoarsely, angry tears burning in her eyes. “How could you do such a thing?”
Titania studied her sister carefully, her smile fading although her eyes grew serious.
“Eliza,” she said, softly. “Eliza, I have spoken to Avondale at length and I truly believe that he is deeply regretful over what occurred. He has told me that he had no choice but to turn his back on you and I must say that I do believe what he has said.”
Shaking her head, Eliza felt herself tremble. “That is not your choice to make, Titania.”
“But it is my choice as to whom I invite to dinner,” Titania replied, lightly. “I have no particular issue with Avondale, Eliza, and Mama herself feels a deep sympathy for his loss. I spoke with her and she stated that, so long as you were not troubled by his presence, there was no reason he could not join us.”
“And you assured Mama that I would not find his presence difficult in any way,” Eliza spat, bitterly. “Is that what you are trying to tell me?”
Titania shrugged. “I may have said something akin to that, yes,” she replied, without even a hint of shame. “As I have stated, Eliza, he is here as my guest. I must say, however, that I hope there may also be the opportunity for you to speak to him a little more than you have done previously.”
Wishing she could box Titania’s ears, such was her anger and deep upset, that Eliza found herself shaking violently. Forced to take a few steps away from her sister to a small alcove, Eliza remained there for some minutes, taking in long breaths in an attempt to steady herself. She could not believe that Titania had done such a thing, for to see Avondale here, present, when she had not been expecting him, had come as a great shock.
“I can see that Lady Wells did not inform you of my company this evening, as she promised.”
Eliza’s eyes flew open to see none other than the Duke of Avondale standing in front of her, his gaze fixed on hers.
“No,” she stated, softly, not quite sure where to look or what to say. “No, she did not.”
“Then I shall depart,” Avondale replied, inclining his head. “I can come up with a decent excuse, but I should not have you uncomfortable for any reason, Lady Wells. Do forgive me.”
He made to step away but before she could stop herself from doing so, Eliza reached out and grasped his arm.
Heat rippled up her arm and she let go of him at once, her face flaming.
“You need not do that, Your Grace,” she replied, throatily. “Please, there is no need. I am in control of myself, truly.”
Avondale considered this for a few moments, before taking a few steps back to where he had first been standing.
“I am sorry,” he said, honestly. “I should have refused Lady Wells’ invitation but I confess that my heart has been burning with longing.”
Eliza closed her eyes and dropped her head. She could not hear this from him, not when her heart began to quicken with both delight and astonishment.
“I have longed to see you again, Lady Eliza,” Avondale continued, her name on his lips sending waves of delight running through her despite her determination to ignore him. “I should not have allowed my own desires to overtake what I know would have been best for you, but I could not help myself.”
Eliza held up one hand. “Please, Your Grace,” she whispered, unable to hear any more. “That is quite enough. As I have said, I am already being courted by another.” Her eyes finally lifted to his and, much to her surprise, she saw a faint smile playing about his lips.
“A courtship is not an engagement,” he stated, spreading his hands. “The more I have thought of you, Lady Eliza, the more I have allowed myself to hope. It is foolishness in itself, of course, but it lingers there nonetheless.”
Her breathing was ragged now, waves of heat tumbling over her until Eliza felt she could take no more. “Hope?” she repeated, pressing one hand against the wall so that she might support herself and praying that the dinner bell would soon sound so that she might free herself from this conversation. “What hope is it that you speak of, Your Grace?”
Avondale’s smile was soft, his eyes lingering on her gently. “Hope that you might permit me to speak to you about what occurred two years ago,” he said, softly. “Hope that you might, through all the pain and the sadness, find a way to understand. Hope that forgiveness will flood your heart, that you can discover a new sense of peace about the dreadful way I treated you.” He took a step closer and Eliza’s breath caught. “Hope, as foolish as it is, that there might be something between us once more. I swear to you, Lady Eliza, that if I were granted such an opportunity, it would not be squandered. I would not wait a moment to make you mine for the rest of our days.”
Eliza could not lift her eyes from Avondale, aware of what he was offering her and finding that she could not quite take it in. He wanted her to listen to his explanation so that the chance for their joint happiness might once again be a possibility.
“I know you have not forgotten me, as you stated,” Avondale murmured, his breath brushing her cheek and sending her heart into a tormented flurry. “I know that you are not immune to my presence. Oh, Eliza, I have thought of you every day. I have been wed to another and yet my heart and mind have constantly been settled on you. If only you would allow me to explain, then you might be able to see the torment that I have been in. The choice was not mine, Eliza. The choice was not mine. I had to do what was asked of me, no matter the consequences. No matter the cost.”
Eliza shook her head and took a small step out of the alcove, knowing that she could be discovered at any moment and not wanting to have anyone question her for having suc
h an intimate conversation with a gentleman that was not Lord Montrose.
“I – I must greet some of the other guests,” she stammered, not able to look up into Avondale’s eyes any longer. “Do excuse me.”
His hand caught her elbow and she gasped in surprise, turning her head to look at him.
“Will you, at the very least, consider what I have said, Lady Eliza?” Avondale asked, his voice low enough for only her to hear. “Will you let yourself become open to the possibility that you might be able to hear my explanation one day soon?”
Eliza tugged her arm away from him, her heart thundering so furiously that she was certain he could hear it. “I will think on it, Your Grace,” she said, before her mind could form any other response. “That is all I can offer you.”
He smiled, a look of utter relief etching itself into his features. Eliza could not help but allow her gaze to rest on him for a moment or two longer, finding in his expression a hint of the Avondale she had once known. He was just as handsome, of course, just as genteel and, of course, quite amiable – but there were lines of grief in his face that she was certain would never dissipate completely. What was it that had torn him apart so terribly? Why had his departure from her not been his own decision? What was it that had forced his hand?
“Your consideration is more than I have ever hoped for, Lady Eliza,” Avondale murmured, as she began to step away. “Thank you.”
Dinner was a loud and hearty affair, although Eliza found herself growing rather tired of hearing Lord Montrose’s voice. Whether that was because she was aware of Avondale’s gaze settling upon her more often than not, she could not say, but something about the entire evening unsettled her greatly. Lord Montrose had appeared at her side only a few minutes after she had left Avondale and had taken possession of her since then. He was, of course, seated beside her and had seemed to dominate the conversation from almost the moment they had sat down. The other guests appeared quite enamored with him and Eliza had not missed the way that a few of the other ladies looked at him. There were a mixture of guests at the table, although three were unwed and one was a rich but young widow. Lord Montrose seemed to revel in the attentions they gave him and continued to delight them with stories, jokes and other such things that had them all laughing and smiling at him. Eliza, however, felt entirely out of place, barely able to raise a smile at anything Lord Montrose said.