His Shadowed Heart ((Books We Love Regency Romance))

by Hazel Statham

  “Would you prefer that I should make your excuses, sir?” enquired Eaton, putting aside the speech.

  “No, no, I must attend,” replied the earl with some resignation. “Though God knows, I wish myself elsewhere.”

  “You wish yourself at Lordings, my lord?”

  “That I do—though when I will be able to make the journey I know not. My departure has been delayed beyond all expectations and I find it insupportable.” With every passing day, he deeply regretted his wife’s absence and his desire to join her at his country seat grew to invade not only his waking, but also his sleeping hours,

  A discreet tap came on the door and a footman entered to announce Lady Victoria, who followed immediately in his wake.

  “Richard, how much longer am I to see you here,” she demanded, extending her hand to receive his salute. “I would have thought you to be eager to go to Lordings. You can’t leave your young bride alone too long, she will become bored without your company.”

  The earl smiled ruefully. “As always Victoria, you come straight to the point.”

  “I don’t believe in prevarication as you know,” she smiled, nodding a brief greeting to Eaton who, bowing, hastily left the room not wishing to intrude.

  “And where is Henry? Does he not bear you company to beard me in my den?”

  “Henry is most disobliging and has left for the races. He will be gone for at least three days and I am once more left to my own devices.”

  “And you thought you would come to tease me to relieve your boredom? Most sisterly!”

  “Don’t be so uncharitable, Richard,” she snapped. “You must know it is nothing of the kind, but the thought did occur to me that, with a little persuasion, I might induce you to accompany me to a select little card party at Maria Radleigh’s this evening. I succumb to ennui left to my own devices and it would be so pleasant to have your company. Indeed, you may even enjoy the outing.”

  The earl frowned. “I have no time for card parties, they hold no interest for me.”

  “There is bound to be other entertainment for those not wishing to play,” she said, determined not to be dissuaded from her purpose. “It will take your mind off other matters, I am sure. Caroline would not wish you to be dull.”

  “I am anything but dull, my dear Victoria….”

  “Of course, you have your meetings at the Ministry and your speeches in the House—what other diversion could you desire?” she scoffed. “I see you must be greatly entertained in your solitude.”

  “Oh, very well,” he conceded with ill grace. “I will squire you to your card party, but I warn you, it will not become a regular occurrence. As soon as I am able, I go to Lordings. Let your Henry dance attendance on you, I am not your husband.”

  She smiled, knowing a moment of triumph. “Thank you, Richard. I knew you would not be so poor-spirited as to deny me an outing.”

  “Humph,” he replied. “As always, dear sister, it appears I have no say in the matter.”

  *****

  The voices in the card room never rose above a pleasant hum as each player concentrated on their game. Wishing not to appear churlish, the earl partnered Lady Victoria for several hands before finally retiring to one of the other salons where refreshments were being served. As he entered the room, Sir Robert Fenton hailed him and invited him to join his company and he crossed the room to their table. It was not until he had taken his seat that he noticed that Gerald Dent and Lord Massey were of the party and he nodded curtly in their direction before turning his attentions to a vivacious brunette at his side and complementing her on her husband’s performance in the House.

  Dent turned to Lord Massey, his countenance showing his ill-concealed displeasure at finding his cousin to be joining the group. “I had not anticipated seeing Waverly this evening, else I would not have accepted the invitation,” he complained waspishly. “It gives me no pleasure whatsoever to be seen in his company.”

  “From the scowl on your countenance that is quite evident,” sneered Massey, “but you are foolish to lay yourself open to censure. At least in company, you should temper your animosity toward him as do I.”

  “My reason for hating Waverly is easy enough to understand,” returned Dent spitefully. “One needs only to be aware of our connection—but I have never known the reason for your abhorrence. Why should you wish his downfall?”

  “There is an issue between us that he is not even aware of,” said Massey, draining his glass and laying it with unnecessary care on the table. “However, I feel not the need to make it a matter for public comment as you so obviously do. Nonetheless, it is an issue that must be resolved, and unless I am much mistaken, in the not too distant future.”

  “Won’t you confide it to me?” asked Dent curiously, “so that I may share in your victory?”

  “There will be no need to confide in you,” smirked Massey. “My retribution will be plain for all to see when it becomes common knowledge. Then you will see how thorough my revenge is.”

  “I’ve guessed it, I’m sure,” Dent cried with much enthusiasm. “It is connected to Christina. Don’t tell me she is still in love with the man?”

  “Certainly not! Never was. You have completely the wrong of it. It’s useless for you to try to speculate, ’tis something even you will not guess. You will be surprised, as will many others—quite surprised.”

  “Then it will be an event that I shall anticipate with great pleasure and I am sure to enjoy enormously.”

  “Of that you can be quite certain—it will be poetic justice at its height.”

  Emboldened by the conversation and unable to resist the temptation to publicly deride his cousin, Dent rose to follow the earl when he finally forsook the company to return to Lady Victoria, who was engaged in a game of Silver Loo. His Lordship stood watching the game from behind her chair and turned only briefly as Dent came to his side.

  “So, dear cousin, your young wife finds it necessary to remove herself to Lordings,” Dent sneered, noting with some satisfaction that members of the company turned at his words.

  “Whatever my wife finds it necessary to do is no concern of yours, cousin,” returned the earl coldly, not taking his eyes from the game.

  Dissatisfied with his cousin’s response, Dent felt compelled to continue, “Does it not seem strange that you are so short a time wed and you find it desirable to remain in the city to enjoy its attractions whilst she returns to the country? Perhaps she grows tired of you, Waverly, and who can blame her, foreswear she has every reason to grow weary of your company. Perhaps it is the information of your liaison with a certain lady that necessitates her removal.”

  Impervious of the stares of disbelief that Dent’s words had generated, the earl turned abruptly. Gripping his arm above the elbow, his fingers bit painfully into the flesh as he propelled him toward the hallway.

  “I ought to have recognized your hand in the affair, Dent,” he seethed through clenched teeth as they achieved the deserted hallway. “I know you bear me no more love than I you, but I will not allow that you should attempt to turn your malice upon my wife. She is an innocent party to our never-ending dispute.” His grip tightened until Dent could bear the pain of his fingers no longer and attempted to free himself, regardless of the curious gaze of a passing servant.

  “Her Ladyship was not informed at my instigation,” he cried, attempting to prize the earl’s fingers from his arm, but he had not the strength and instead felt his knees begin to weaken.

  Seeing the paleness of his countenance the earl smiled cruelly, relenting his hold only slightly, determined that he should find the truth of the matter. “At whose instigation was she informed if not yours? You may as well tell me sooner rather than later, for I assure you, I will not leave go until I know the truth.”

  “Massey’s,” was the weak reply.

  The earl released his hold immediately, throwing aside Dent’s arm as if it was something distasteful. “Why should he bear me malice?” he asked in some sur
prise.

  “I don’t know,” replied Dent, holding his arm and flexing his fingers as the blood once more began to flow. “He does not make me privy to his motives.”

  Turning abruptly, the earl returned to the card room and thence to the adjoining salons but he was unable to find Lord Massey amongst the company and upon asking his whereabouts of a mutual acquaintance was informed that His Lordship had left the party.

  *****

  “You will be delighted to know that I intend to leave for Lordings on the morrow,” informed the earl, as he and Lady Victoria entered the coach at the end of the evening.

  “At last, you see sense,” she approved, adjusting her cloak as the night air proved chill.

  “You were right,” he replied in return. “I have been too long without my wife’s company. No doubt the House will reach whatever decisions it may, regardless of my attendance. I am needed elsewhere—I will not neglect my wife.”

  Her Ladyship raised her gaze sharply, attempting to read his countenance in the shadowed interior. “All is well with Caroline?” she asked abruptly.

  “I can assure you, all is well,” replied the earl, smiling meaningfully. “I but return to my wife.”

  Much pleased with his reply, Lady Victoria, gave a contented sigh and settled herself back into the corner.

  Chapter Eight

  In the extended absence of her husband, Caroline had settled into a daily routine of dividing her time between Julia and Peter. Julia had quickly come to accept her. Having never known her original mother, there were no comparisons to be made and she blossomed under Caroline’s influence, as did Peter. He was much changed from the ruffian who had first come to Lordings, and under her tutelage now appeared well-groomed. In an attempt to better himself and prove himself worthy of her attention, he asked her to teach him to read and write, a task that she performed with enthusiasm, not knowing the origins of his desire.

  “Who knows what you will be able to achieve,” she enthused, as they sat over their books late in the afternoon. “Indeed, I will speak to my husband in the hopes that he will find a situation for you. I hadn’t thought you would prove such an adept pupil. I am sure something could be found that would suit.”

  Reddening beneath her praise, Peter exerted even more effort by attempting a few lines from one of Byron’s poems, both being highly amused by his errors, even Dog adding his tones to their laughter.

  “I think you have missed your calling,” laughed Caroline. “It would seem you are more suited to the stage. What a fine actor you would make. With Dog at your side of course.”

  Peter grinned. “A fine jester more like,” he said, with a flourish of his arm. “A jester and his dog. What a couple we would make.”

  “The ladies would adore you,” she laughed in return. “You would break hearts.”

  Suddenly serious, Peter reached out across the table and placed his hand over hers as it rested there. “Caroline….” he began in a cajoling tone, but immediately she came to her feet, almost upsetting her chair in her haste.

  “I must go to the nursery,” she stated hurriedly, “I must not neglect Julia,” and she was gone from the room, leaving him to reflect on the imprudence of his action and to curse himself for being a fool.

  She had correctly interpreted his intent and she had no wish for it. She felt a friendship for him, indeed, a companionship, but she wished nothing more, no avowals of devotion or declarations of love. Her heart forever remained with her husband. She began to recognize the dangers of continuing her support, but in her innocence, believed Peter would soon tire of the infatuation.

  Retiring to her apartment, she decided to channel her thoughts into writing a letter to the earl, and to this end, she went to her escritoire and took down paper and pen, finding in the composition of the missive some release for the longing she felt for his presence.

  Once the letter was completed, and seeing that it needed almost two hours to suppertime, she decided to change into her silk wrap and try to read a little as she still found her thoughts were wont to wander to a certain house in London. Reposing on the burgundy velvet chaise, her eyelids started to fall, and within a few moments she had drifted into sleep.

  *****

  It was thus that she did not witness the opening of her chamber door or the tall figure that stood within its portals.

  Seeing his wife to be asleep, the earl closed the door noiselessly behind him and, drawing off his driving gloves, came across the room, his boots making no sound on the thick-piled carpet. He stood for a moment looking at her sleeping form, marveling at the picture she presented in her slumber with her cheek resting on one delicate hand and her tumbled curls framing her sweet face. He knew a desire to catch her to him and waken her with kisses but he resisted the impulse, instead contenting himself with his contemplation.

  As if by design, a clock on the mantle struck the hour, invading her repose, and she stirred and opened drowsy eyes, which immediately fell on him and widened in astonishment at finding him there.

  He smiled down at her. “I’m sorry, did my presence startle you Caro?”

  “Richard,” she cried, and was on her feet immediately to throw herself into his arms, laughing and crying at the same time.

  He held her close, his eyes, full of tenderness, devouring her glowing countenance. “I had to come, sweetheart. I could stand it no longer without my wife. If I had but known the reception I would receive, I would have returned earlier—much earlier. Now kiss me, foreswear I have been without you far too long.” And, holding her even closer, he crushed his lips down onto hers. Deepening the kiss, he allowed all the longing and love he had held in check for so long to overtake him. Knowing he need guard his heart no longer, welcoming his wife’s response, he poured his soul into the embrace.

  “Can you forgive my foolishness?” he asked when finally they drew apart, almost as if there had been no interval between their last meeting. “When I asked you to marry me, I thought I would be content with you as my companion. Indeed, I looked for nothing more than someone to alleviate my loneliness. I had not been prepared for the emotions you would evoke in me. How, despite my conviction that I was incapable of love, you would make me love you. Now I desire your love in return—a wife’s love. Is that too much to ask? Is the thought alien to you? Could you love me?”

  In answer, Caroline lifted her hands to frame his face, and with tears in her eyes, stood on tiptoe to tenderly press her lips to his. “Had you but known it, you have always had my love,” she replied. “I never dared hope you would love me in return. Though I knew my own heart, I convinced myself that I would be content just to share your life. Even now, I cannot believe it possible.”

  He found it necessary, so very necessary, to assure her of his eternal devotion, and my lady’s maid, quietly entering the room a short while later, beheld her mistress locked in a crushing embrace and hastily stepped back into the corridor.

  Their lovemaking achieved heights that only passion long-denied could achieve, and held delights that neither had known possible. No barriers to happiness existed and no longer would there be closed doors between them or talk of separate lives. With their new closeness, their whole existence took on new meaning.

  Supper became a late and most intimate affair, the earl ordering it served in his wife’s sitting room, which connected to her bedchamber through her dressing room. If the couple were less formally attired than was their usual wont, who was there to comment. Instead of his usual impeccable evening attire, the earl wore a black silk dressing robe carelessly knotted over black pantaloons whilst his wife, her hair unbound and flowing about her shoulders, wore a most becoming negligee of cream satin, overlaid with Brussels lace.

  Once the meal was over, they retired no further than the burgundy velvet chaise that was drawn invitingly before the glowing hearth. Caroline, with head resting against her husband’s shoulder, his arm encircling her, sighed her contentment and nestled closer. “I still can’t believe you love me,�
�� she said, listening to the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear.

  “It is something you can and must believe,” he said earnestly as he held her away from him, searching her face, a face that had become infinitely dear.

  “How could I with Elizabeth’s influence so fresh in your mind….”

  He captured her hand and pressed his lips tenderly to her palm. “Elizabeth need never concern you again, she is gone, forgotten! I know, by my feelings for you now, that whatever I felt for her was never love, merely a momentary infatuation. Do you believe me?”

  Moving once more into his embrace, she snuggled against his chest. “Whatever you tell me I will believe, my love. I have seen your torment and my only wish has been to alleviate it. You must know I love you, Richard.”

  “A fact I shall need you to assure me of frequently, sweetheart,” he teased, jubilant in his triumph. “I never believed my life could be so changed. Victoria accuses me of continually frowning, but there will be no need for frowns now. I have my new wife to keep me in check and I will not be allowed to be morose. Indeed, there will be no occasion to be downcast when I shall have your love.”

  “I will remind you of that when you find me tiresome and wish me elsewhere,” she teased. “I am no paragon, as you must know, and surely there will be times when my company becomes irksome.”

  “I can promise you that I will find you neither tiresome nor irksome,” he said, punctuating each word with a kiss, his lips feathering a slow course from brow to lips. “My penchant for my wife’s company will be remarked upon.”