“Sorry you were bedding your whore? Or sorry I caught you bedding your whore?”
“Both,” he muttered.
“What?” Elizabeth yelled. “You are not going to tell me she is not a whore, that she is a poor little girl who was badly served?”
What could he say to that? He could hardly deny Marianne’s position in his life now his wife had seen them naked together.
“Elizabeth, please let me explain.”
“There is nothing to explain, Adrian,” she said and her voice had dropped, tears gathered in her eyes and she turned away. “Please do not follow me. I never want to see you again.”
As she moved out onto the landing he got quickly to his feet and reached her in one stride, took her arm in his hand and spun her around to face him. He pulled her into his arms and felt her tremble, although with misery or rage he could not tell.
“Let go of me, please,” she said.
“Elizabeth, forgive me, please.”
“So you can lie to me again?”
“I did not lie, I swear it.”
“On our baby’s life?” She said with a sneer.
“I do not know what happened. I came here to tell Marianne never to write to me again, for your sake and it just happened. I swear it will never happen again.”
She put her hands onto his chest and pushed herself away from him. She glanced passed him at the naked woman in the bed, who was staring back at her with icy blue eyes, the satisfaction in their depths clear to see.
“What you do is no longer of any interest to me,” Elizabeth said, then she turned and hurried down the rickety wooden stairs and into the street.
***
Adrian went home to his London house, despite Marianne’s attempts to persuade him to stay. His world had collapsed and he could not believe he had been such a fool; he was angry with Marianne, too, and that anger was very new.
Ever since he had met her all he had ever wanted to do was protect her, and now he felt he had used her abominably and had no right to be angry. Why had she deliberately seduced him, gone out of her way to arouse him, to make him desire her? Was it some sort of revenge for the way he had discarded her? He thought it likely and he could blame no one for that but himself.
“We must be sure it never happens again,” he told her. “Why did you do that? Never mind, it was my fault. I should have had the willpower to resist you.”
“I am glad you did not.”
“What? You are happy my wife will likely never speak to me again?”
“If you want the honest truth, Adrian, yes I am happy. Did you care how you broke my heart when you left me for her? Did it matter at all that I was left yearning for your arms around me, knowing you gave your love to her alone?”
“I am sorry,” he said. “I thought you understood. I thought you were happy with the situation.”
“Happy? Why should I be happy? You rescued me, you made me yours, you made me fall in love with you, then when it suited you, you threw me away for another woman. Yet you pretend you have respect for me. I am your whore, that is all, I have never been anything else and never will be. I am not permitted to love you, to long to feel you in my arms; that cannot be, can it? Because I am nothing in your eyes.”
“That is not true.”
“Yes, it is. Goodbye, Adrian. Try to get her back if you want to and if you cannot, I will repeat what I said the last time we parted – I will still be here.”
He spent that night tossing about in his bed, trying to think of ways to win Elizabeth back. He was getting ready to leave for Surrey the following morning when Richard Summerville rode up on his tall, black stallion and drew rein beside him.
“Please, Richard,” he said. “I have no time. I have a personal dilemma that needs my attention.”
“Can I help?”
Adrian shook his head.
“My wife has left me,” he told his friend miserably. “I have to persuade her my indiscretion was a one time thing and will not be repeated. She may never let me near her again.”
Richard dismounted, tossed the reins over a rail beside the stable yard and leaned next to his horse, his arms folded.
“You could simply take her,” he said. “She is your wife. You have that right.”
Adrian stared at him, disbelieving. He seemed as though he was asking an opinion on the subject rather than offering advice. Could Richard have been in a similar situation and wanted assurance he had done the right thing?
“Is that what you would do?” Adrian asked him.
He was thoughtful for a few moments, as though he wanted to say something but changed his mind.
“No,” he replied at last. “It is not the right thing to do and I am very glad we agree on that point. When you have seen her, I need you to follow this man, discreetly please.” Adrian unfolded the small piece of paper he passed to him and read the name. “Find out where he is going and what he does, be sure he is always aware of any imminent danger.”
“What is so special about him? I have heard this name.”
“He is rather important in the resistance cause, but it is imperative he is kept safe. I have my reasons.”
“Do those reasons have anything to do with your wife?”
“My wife? Why should they have anything to do with my wife?”
“It is but instinct. You never see her, never speak of her and I hear nothing, only of the other one, the one you keep at court. What happened, Richard? Did you make the same mistake as me, is that it? Am I to learn she refuses to see you?”
A flash of anger darkened Richard’s face and he scowled.
“Nothing like that. It is I who have no desire to see her.”
“She betrayed you?”
Richard nodded slowly.
“She did, but not in the same way you have betrayed your Elizabeth,” he said. “It is complicated. I replaced her at court with my mistress to protect her and she repaid me by aiding my enemies. She used my house, my church, my money and risked all our lives in the process. I cannot forgive her.”
Adrian noticed the clenching of his fists as he spoke and he shivered.
“Is she dead?” He asked. “Did you kill her?”
“Lord no! I wanted to when I found out; I even had my hands around her throat. I did do some awful things to her, some unforgiveable things. I allowed myself to be governed by rage.” He sighed heavily to calm himself. “She lives still, have no fear, but she does not live freely and she does not trouble my conscience too much.”
Adrian asked no more questions. Richard’s anger as he spoke of his wife was evident and he thought it best to say no more.
***
Elizabeth sat in the carriage on her way home to Surrey with tears clouding her vision. She wanted to climb into bed and stay there, much as she had when Elliot sent his whole family to their deaths. Did she feel worse then or now? She could find little difference between the two betrayals, only that she would never forgive him. She would give her love to her children from that moment on; at least they would not betray her.
After a sleepless night of fitful dozing, waking to reach out for Adrian, she remembered he had gone, returned to his back street whore and would never be hers again. She sobbed the night away and appeared in the morning with red rimmed, puffy eyes which the Dowager Countess could not help but notice.
“Whatever is wrong, my dear?” She asked.
Elizabeth stared at her for a moment, wondering if she should keep this to herself. She decided she could not bear for anyone to know how her husband had betrayed her.
“I am weary of being away from my husband,” she replied. “Nothing more.”
***
Marianne watched Adrian ride away, biting her lips to halt the tears from flowing. She could not believe her own actions, but she had wanted him so much. She had missed their nights together and she saw no reason why his wife would have to know. Why did the silly woman have to arrive at her door? And she did not even knock, gave them no chance to hi
de the truth.
But she was angry as well as hurt. The way Adrian reacted when he saw his wife, had convinced Marianne at last that she had lost this battle, lost it forever. He loved the woman, he loved her far more than he loved Marianne so it was pointless to consider a future with him, even if Elizabeth did refuse to repair the damage.
She dressed at last and arranged her hair, then decided to go for a walk. She was curious about the new tailor’s shop downstairs and about the young man who worked there. She had watched him coming and going, had spoken to him a few times just to pass the time and established he had no wife. She wondered how much he noticed of her own habits, whether he had seen Adrian and heard the row.
She would soon find out. He was not Adrian, he would never replace Adrian, but she had to move on. She could not spend her remaining years yearning for a man who would never be hers. She could pretend to be a widow; that would explain a lot of things. She made her way downstairs and smiled at the young man who looked up from his sewing and smiled back at her.
***
Adrian rode as fast as he dared to Surrey, to Elizabeth and he found her in the gardens, reading a letter. He supposed it was from her father or perhaps her brother, but as he drew close he saw the name at the bottom and his anger swelled.
“So it is in order for you to have love letters from the past, but not me?”
She turned her head to look at him with contempt in her eyes which made him shudder.
“I am not going to remove my clothes for Elliot, am I? You are not going to find me in his bed. He wrote me this letter before we met. It was the first one I ever had from him and the only one I kept. I was just reading it again for comfort. You do not begrudge me such comfort, do you? You seemed to have found comfort of your own when last I saw you.”
He walked quickly toward her, sat beside her on the little wall around the flower garden and took her in his arms.
“Please, darling,” he said, catching at a sob. “I am so, so sorry. I love you so much; it will kill me if we part.”
“Please go,” she said, her glance returning to her letter. “Go about your treacherous business for the little fanatic, go get your comfort from your whore and leave me in peace.”
“Elizabeth, please.”
“You have broken my heart; is that not enough for you?”
“What of Elise? What of our son?”
Her head spun around to stare at him.
“Will you now take my children as well?” She demanded. “You have taken my pride, my happiness – now you will take my son and my daughter?”
“Of course not. But they need us both.”
“They shall have us both. I will not try to deprive you of them, even if that were possible. But you have hurt me, Adrian. I wonder if I can ever think of you now without seeing you in her bed, your arms around her, your flesh touching hers.” She caught her breath. “You have hurt me badly and I am not sure I can ever forgive you. Please go now, give me time to think.”
CHAPTER NINE
Adrian returned to his London house to change horses before he made his way to Suffolk, to the address Lord Summerville had written down for him. He would follow this man, see where he went, try to find out why he was so important that he had to be protected at all costs.
It was tedious work and his mind was full of Elizabeth, of the mess he had made of their marriage and how he was ever going to make amends, repair the damage and win her back. He also thought hard about Marianne, about the way she had thrown herself at him; it was almost as though she wanted his wife to find them together. Had she known he was coming he might have believed she had arranged things that way, but that was not possible. He was still angry with her, but what she had said was only the truth. He had used her and tossed her aside and being fond of her, supporting her financially, was no compensation for that humiliation.
***
He followed Charles Carlisle that afternoon for about five miles and he was beginning to think the man had nowhere to go, that he was only out for a long ride. Eventually they came to a small forest which Adrian was sure was on private land. He watched as the man tied his horse to a tree then made his way on foot to disappear among the trees. Adrian followed, tying his own horse some distance away, and he pursued him through the forest to a tiny cottage in a small clearing beside a church. Adrian watched as he opened the door and went inside, but came out almost immediately and hid himself behind the little building.
Next came a woman, dressed in cheap, unbleached linen with the white cap of a peasant covering her dark hair. Adrian frowned. He moved quietly closer, hiding himself among the thick foliage and hoping he was not seen by either of them.
He watched as she took to running and hurried to the cottage when the man appeared; she took his hand and pulled him inside and Adrian could feel her sense of urgency, even from this distance.
He was growing impatient with this surveillance. It was quite obvious to him that the man had travelled here to meet his mistress and he would doubtless spend some time inside the little hovel. Was Adrian supposed to just stand and wait?
It was twenty minutes, maybe less, and Adrian was wondering whether to leave the pair to it, when the door opened again and the couple emerged. Now the woman was facing him, even from such an expanse as this, she looked familiar. She was thinner and paler than he remembered, and the clothes were not what he would have expected, but it was definitely her. The last time he had seen her, she was riding behind the carriages at Queen Mary’s coronation; she was Richard’s wife.
He said she did not live freely, but here? Suddenly, his disloyalty to Elizabeth did not seem so bad. Richard said she had betrayed him, that he had done some terrible things to her, but to imprison her in a peasant’s hut in this dark and awful place…Adrian would never have believed him capable of such a thing.
Even if she had helped his enemies, even if this man was her lover, did she deserve this? While her husband lived openly at court, in luxury with his mistress, perhaps she thought she had the right to take a lover. And if he was her lover, was this why he had to watch him at all costs, so that he could report back to Lord Summerville that he was having clandestine meetings with Lady Summerville? Surely they had better things to do, more important people to watch?
***
He paid a visit to the palace the following day, anxious to learn the truth about these two, but care needed to be taken lest he be overheard. Richard was nowhere to be found but his mistress was there, looking as enchanting as ever.
Adrian was angry. He had not wanted to be a part of this in the first place; he had lost his wife because of it, as she had gradually withdrawn from him until he had turned elsewhere for comfort. That was no one’s fault but his own, yet he needed to know he was helping innocent Protestants, not spying on Lord Summerville’s wife for him. He could find someone else to do that.
“My Lady,” he said with a bow as the beautiful woman showed him into the suite and indicated a seat. For the first time he wondered if she were really entitled to that title at all; she was not Lady Summerville, but who was she? He had never wondered before and now he longed to know. Richard never referred to her by name, likely because he did not want her exposed. “I was hoping to see your…Lord Summerville.”
She noticed the hesitation, he was certain of it, and she smiled.
He was uncomfortable now, knowing this beautiful creature lived in luxury in the palace with her lover whilst that lover’s wife lived in a dark and terrible hovel, without the basic comforts of even a peasant. Heavens! Even his poorest tenants and servants lived better than that.
He had no idea what to call this woman, but the title to which she had no right stuck in his throat.
“Please, My Lord,” she answered in the sweetest voice. “Richard will return shortly. Allow me to offer you something, mead? Wine?”
He shook his head.
“As you wish,” she replied with a slight nod as she took a seat opposite him.
I
t was a relief when the door opened and His Lordship entered the apartment. Adrian watched curiously to see how these two greeted each other, but they merely smiled; no affection between them was shown, not even a brush of lips against a cheek. He recalled all the times before he met Elizabeth when he had visited Marianne; he had never greeted her like this. Always he could not wait to hold her in his arms, hug her close to him, kiss her. He felt sure there was more to their reticence than Adrian’s presence.
There was another story here, another tale behind the one he had been told and the need to know was beginning to eat into him.
“Adrian,” Richard said, holding out a hand as he strode toward him. He stood to take the hand of his host. “What a delightful surprise.”
“You may not find it so delightful when you hear what I have to say.”
Richard frowned, then turned to face the woman who gathered her things and left them alone. So she was not privy to all his secrets. Did she know about his wife, did she know how her rival lived?
“Please, go on.”
He sat and indicated Adrian should do the same.
“I thought we had a good cause,” Adrian began. “But if all you want is for me to spy on your wife, I have more important things to do.”
Richard’s eyebrows went up; he looked genuinely startled.
“My wife?” He glanced at the door through which his mistress had recently passed.
“Not that wife,” Adrian said, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Your real wife.”
A flash of anger crossed Richard’s features, his cheeks flamed and he leaned forward threateningly.
“What do you know about my wife?”
“I know she lives as a peasant; I would not allow my servants to live like that.”
Richard got to his feet, his jaw tightened, his hands clenched into fists.
“I think this conversation will be better conducted outside,” he said, then turned and led the way out of the apartment, along the gallery and down the wide staircase to the gardens below.
Adrian followed, still angry on behalf of a woman he did not know, one he had met only twice and briefly at that. The weather was chill, fortunately, for it meant few people in the grounds and Richard deliberately found a spot in a wide clearing where there was nowhere for curious ears to be hiding. He sat down on a stone wall beside a flower bed; Adrian sat next to him.
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