by Donna Hatch
She blinked. “When did she notice it missing?”
“Just now, milady. About half an hour ago, she went to the retiring room and is sure she had it on then—another guest admired it. She danced a set, and took some refreshment, and just now saw it gone.”
“Has she checked the retiring room?”
Foster nodded. “With the help of a maid.”
A glimmer of light cut through the fog in her mind. “So it had to have happened within the last half an hour. Who knows about Cooper?”
“Only me, Handley, Mrs. Brown, you, and the master.”
“So no one knows he’s been blamed for the theft or confined.”
“No, milady.”
She drew herself up. At least she might exonerate Cooper, even if she couldn’t exonerate herself in Richard’s eyes. “Who besides you and the maid knows about the missing lady’s ring?”
“No one that I know of.” His quizzical glance swept over her.
“Good.” She rubbed her forehead, trying to formulate a plan. She dropped her voice. “Did you get a description of the ring?”
“Yes, milady.”
“Tell no one this. Search all the footmen and maids. Be discreet.”
Foster nodded somberly. “I can do that and they’ll never know I’m searching them.” At Elizabeth’s curiously raised brows, he added, “No one knows this, but five years ago, I, too, was a pickpocket. People can change.”
Elizabeth laughed weakly, wishing she could throw that tidbit in Mrs. Brown’s face. And Richard’s.
Foster left to conduct his search. Though tempted to immediately free Cooper, Elizabeth resisted; she didn’t dare alert the true perpetrator. She should tell Richard of the new development. Upon searching the room, she found him standing in a circle of men looking as grim and cold as ever. She tossed her head. . She would take care of it herself. However, she’d make sure he learned the outcome and how wrong he was about Cooper. Somehow she’d prove he’d been wrong about all his assumptions tonight.
Moments later, a parlor maid approached. “M’lady. Foster wishes to speak with you in the kitchen.”
Elizabeth made a circuitous route to the kitchen where she found Foster standing off to one side to stay out of the way of the chef and his assistants. The chef glowered at them both from underneath his bushy brows, probably put out by the intrusion in his domain.
Foster held up a ring. “I found this underneath Cooper’s bed.”
“Cooper’s?”
“At first I thought he stole it before and that the guest had not yet missed it but I’m sure it wasn’t there when I found the bracelet.”
“He couldn’t have stolen the ring.”
“No, milady.”
Elizabeth nodded, weary with relief that Cooper’s name had been cleared. “Keep your eyes open for anything suspicious, and set Cooper free but have him stay out of sight.” Elizabeth returned to the drawing room. Would this night ever end?
The night passed with no further thefts reported. Finally, the last guests left, and the front door closed with an echoing bang. A hush descended over the house.
Elizabeth glanced at Richard at her side. He stood as if made of iron. Implacable, immovable. He showed no sign of regret for his role in any of the night’s events. Bitterness ate through her. She turned away, but halted as Cooper entered the great hall.
Cooper twisted his gloves in his hand. “Thank ye agin, m’lady. I’ll ne’er forgit yer trust in me.”
Ignoring Richard’s surprised intake, she replied calmly. “You’re welcome, though you have Foster to thank. He discovered the ring that had been stolen long after you were confined.” She cast a surreptitious glance at Richard who stared hard at the erstwhile thief.
Cooper touched his forehead. “G’nigh’ m’lady.”
“Good night, Cooper. Thank you for your continued service. And Cooper?”
“M’lady?”
“Keep your eyes open. We still have a thief and he’s trying to blame you.”
“Aye, m’lady.”
After Cooper’s footfalls quieted, Elizabeth turned to make her way to her room.
Richard’s voice stopped her. “There was another theft?”
She stiffened and fought to keep her voice level. “A ring. It was stolen after Cooper was detained. Cooper is, and always was, innocent.”
A pause. “Then we still haven’t caught the thief.”
“No.” She went to the door, then without turning around, shot over her shoulder, “A great number of false accusations were made tonight, however.”
She trudged to her room and collapsed on the bed. Shoulder-wracking sobs overcame her and she bawled like a child, mourning every embarrassment, every lost dream, every dashed hope. She’d been foolish to believe she might ever find happiness with a man so cold and judgmental.
No matter what she did, no matter how hard she tried to please him, or prove herself otherwise, he would only ever see her as a woman of scandal.
Chapter Thirty-One
After the last guest departed, Richard turned away and mounted the stairs, heading for his room. The truth of Elizabeth’s infidelity, despite her almost-convincing denial, forced his hand. He’d have to take action as he’d promised.
A maelstrom of thoughts swirled through him—mostly of Elizabeth and Tristan’s duplicity. Despite his fears, he hadn’t actually thought either of them so disloyal. The searing pain in his heart cut deeper than he’d ever thought possible. He’d been wise to keep himself apart from Elizabeth. If he’d initiated marital intimacy, her betrayal would have wounded him much more.
His own guilty-looking moments a few hours ago with Leticia—who made no secret of her broken heart—rose up in stark accusation. Elizabeth must have assumed the worst, and so would anyone who might have seen them together.
Add to that, a thief had struck, possibly one of his own servants.
Tonight ranked high on the list of worst nights of his life. He rubbed a hand over his face. He had decisions to make. The thought of taking such a heartless stand with Elizabeth either by divorcing her or sending her away to some seldom-visited estate during a permanent separation, thus condemning her to a lifetime of isolation and social condemnation, left a sour taste in his mouth. At the moment, all he wanted to do was pull the covers over his head and sleep for a week.
As Richard headed toward his room, a shadowy figure caught his eye. A feminine figure walked in a rustle of silk near the end of the darkened corridor running the length of the wing. He paused. The woman stepped into the circle of a sconce, illuminating her ball gown and golden hair. He frowned. What was a guest doing in the family wing? The blonde stopped in front of Tristan’s empty room, turned the knob, and went in.
More than a little disquieted, Richard followed her. He stood in the doorway and watched the woman as she ran her hands over the cushions of the settee drawn up in front of the fireplace as if she sought something. He couldn’t remember her name, only that she was a widow who lived in the area. She turned her head, revealing her youth and beauty. What was she doing here? Could she be tonight’s thief?
No, tonight’s losses were jewelry, and Tristan kept little more than a few stickpins and cufflinks in his room. Add to that, the widow walked without hesitation past silver candlesticks and valuable vases, clearly focused on some other goal.
After a few moments, she moved to the rumpled bed. She searched the bedclothes and pillows and then let out a small cry of triumph.
He folded his arms and leaned against the wall. “May I help you?” he asked.
She squeaked and whirled around. “L-lord Averston.” In the dim candlelight created by a candle left burning on the nightstand, her blush reddened her face. “I…” She bit her lip, then let out a helpless laugh. “I lost one of my earrings so I came back to look for it. I found it.” She held out her hand to reveal a pearl glimmering in her palm.
Richard blinked as the truth sank in. “You were the woman with Tristan tonight?”
Speechless, Richard stared. Tristan hadn’t been with Elizabeth; he’d been with this widow…who was exactly Tristan’s type of woman.
The enormity of his error—his unfairness—hit him with hurricane force.
What had he done?
The lady cleared her voice. “Well, goodnight, my lord. Thank you for the ball. I’ll see myself out.” She slipped passed him in the doorway and disappeared.
Richard cursed, and then cursed again. Pressing both hands over his face, he sank to the floor against the wall and sat curled up.
He’d jumped to conclusions. Elizabeth and Tristan hadn’t committed adultery right under his nose as he’d believed. He’d been so sure, but he was wrong.
He’d been so afraid that they would cheat on him that he had assumed the worst. Working under his false belief, he’d treated his wife and his brother like a boorish, judgmental cad. He should have approached them, given them a chance to confirm or explain. Elizabeth’s righteous indignation could not have been feigned. The wounded—and apparently sincere—expression lancing Elizabeth’s face, and Tristan’s when Richard had thrown him out, rose up in harsh accusation. He wanted to cry out in shame. He’d been unforgivably hasty.
He let out his breath in a long exhale. He’d been wrong. He might never make amends.
Still, he had to try. He approached Elizabeth’s door, but the bone-deep sobs coming from her room stilled his hand. He paused, aching to apologize, comfort her, help heal the hurt if he could. Yet with her emotions so charged, now was clearly the wrong time.
He’d wait. Perhaps have breakfast with her. Then what? How to truly earn her forgiveness? An apology, certainly, but this kind of mistake required more. Perhaps some kind of gesture. He wracked his brain. She liked to read but the house had a library full of books that he’d already given her leave to peruse.
She liked music. The harp. Of course. She played the harp. She must be missing hers. He made a mental note to buy a harp for her.
What else? Perhaps tomorrow after breakfast he could take her for a ride…provided she agreed to go with him, that is. There he’d make his apologies and spend the day with her showing her around his estate and perhaps enjoying a luncheon al fresco. He fell asleep planning the riding route and to whom he would introduce her.
The next morning on his way to the breakfast room, he passed a table holding mail and today’s papers. As he caught the headline, he paused.
“Lord Einsburgh has been arrested?” He picked up the paper and read more.
He’d always suspected the man operated slightly above the law, but the arrest outlined a list of charges that stunned Richard. He remembered a day, not so long ago, when he and Tristan and Kensington were together. Tristan had complained that Einsburgh cheated at cards. Kensington had joked that Tristan suspected everyone who beat him cheated. Even then, Richard had believed Tristan and suspected Einsburgh of dishonesty. That his dishonesty stretched to crime didn’t surprise Richard as much as it should have. Still, if he received a writ of summons for Einsburgh’s trial, Richard would keep his opinions to himself and try to be fair. He tossed the paper aside and turned his attention to courting his countess and repairing his battered marriage.
The breakfast room was alone. As he ate, he deliberated on the best way to approach his wife and beg her to listen to him. Before he’d found the answer, a special messenger delivered an urgent letter addressed to Lady Averston. He waited, but she never came to him. Within moments, the servants began scrambling to obey orders he had yet to hear. Still, Elizabeth sent him no message. What could be amiss? And why was he excluded from it?
Quelling his rising irritation, as well as a touch of concern, he knocked at the door. At her permission, he entered to find her wearing a dressing gown, her tousled hair hanging loose around her back and shoulders. The sight evoked images of her lying with him in bed looking up at him with welcoming eyes.
The image shattered as Elizabeth glanced at him, then turned away dismissively. She selected gowns and threw them on her bed. Her abigail folded everything and placed them in a trunk.
His heart hammered in his ears. She was leaving him?
Richard made a gesture toward the trunk. “Are you going somewhere?”
She never glanced his way. “Father has sent for me. Duchess is gravely ill. I must go to her.”
He bit back a sigh relief. She wasn’t leaving him. “Duchess? I’m surprised you’re so anxious to see her.”
She let out a huff that might have been a mocking laugh or a suppressed sob. “I’m very anxious, but not because I want to see her. If she dies…” Her next words came out fast and tripped all over each other. “I have heard of too many people who were estranged and failed to make amends when they could and then the other person dies and the one left behind is wracked with torment because they never reconciled and…” A sob broke through. “Besides, I could have been a better daughter. I disappointed her in so many ways. My parting words to her were hateful. I couldn’t bear it if I never had a chance to recant.”
He couldn’t believe she was defending the woman who belittled and abused her all her life. “You didn’t deserve—”
“Father has requested my presence. I really feel I should.” The pleading in her eyes would not be denied. “Please.”
“Very well. I’ll make arrangements.”
“I’ve already made them.”
“Oh. Then, I’ll ready myself to accompany you.”
“No need. I know you are a very busy man. I wouldn’t want to drag you away from all your important duties.” Her words were biting.
He battled the urge to defend himself. Instead he said to the maid, “Leave us.”
Elizabeth opened her mouth, her eyes flashing in irritation. Instead of speaking, she clamped her lips together and opened a clothes press where she selected stockings and gloves.
He waited until the maid left the room before speaking. “Of course I’ll accompany you. It’s a family emergency. My place is at your side.”
She threw him an accusing stare. “Why? So you can ensure I’m not cheating on you?”
He drew a breath and tried to keep his voice even. “No, to be with you should you need me.”
“I don’t require your presence. I can get along just fine without you. I’ve been doing so since the day we married. You have made it clear you don’t like my company; you can barely bring yourself to dine with me. I don’t know why you let me read to you at night.”
He opened his mouth to speak, then stopped. He had been neglectful. Unforgivably so. He intended to make it right, now, even at the risk of losing his heart.
Before he could choose the right words, she cut in, her tone mocking and angry. “Don’t worry, I haven’t invited Tristan so you needn’t fear for my fidelity.”
He bowed his head under her justified anger. “I’m sorry I assumed the worst about you and Tristan. Please accept my apology.”
Ignoring him, she walked back to her dressing room and emerged a moment later with an armload of clothes. “I hear you threw Tristan out last night. Have you apologized to him?”
He let out his breath and decided that was a topic for another time, when she wasn’t so angry. “Look. You are about to travel a long distance and I do not wish you to do so alone. I shall accompany you.”
“As you wish,” she snapped. “My lord.”
Richard wanted to shake her by the shoulders. He ground his teeth and left the room. He should be patient with her mood. In addition to being angry over last night, she was no doubt overset about the health of her mother. Although why she would care about that unfeeling monster of a woman, he could not account. Focusing on such uncharitable thoughts, he made arrangements
to travel. Within hours, they entered the family coach and began their journey.
Richard settled into the seat and searched for a topic. “Do you know the nature of the illness?”
“No.”
He waited but she did not elaborate. He tried again. “Do you wish to travel straight through, or stop for the night?”
“Straight through. Please.”
He let out a long exhale at her curtness. “About last night—”
Sharply she interrupted, “I don’t wish to discuss it.”
“I think we should.”
“As you wish, my lord.” Sarcasm filled the air. She folded her arms and crossed her legs. With her mouth mulishly pressed together, she stared out of the window.
Clearly conversation was pointless, so he kept his peace. All the while, his own irritation grew that his sweet, tractable wife had turned into a dragon. At least she was no longer a timid, quivering creature who feared he’d strike her.
Finally, after nearly an hour of silence, Richard addressed her. “About last night…”
“I don’t wish to discuss it,” she said crisply.
“I admit that I was wrong. I jumped to conclusions, and for that, I apologize.”
The gaze she turned his way, instead of being filled with joy that he’d admitted to his error, pierced him with hostility. “You came to this conclusion, how?”
“I found the woman with whom Tristan had…er, had a dalliance. She admitted it.”
“So, with proof, you exonerate me—this time, but before you had proof, you tried and convicted me without giving me a chance to defend myself.”
He squirmed.
“The next time you suspect I’ve done something wrong, you’ll jump to the same conclusion.”
He had nothing to say. She was right. However, in his defense, she had admitted she still loved Tristan, so the only thing stopping her from falling into Tristan’s arms was her own honor. Few women of his acquaintance seemed to possess much honor.
Her voice rose in pitch and volume. “So really, you’ve made up your mind that I’m an adulteress and you are waiting for me to commit the transgression so you can catch me.” She let out a huff. “We have nothing more to discuss.”