Lady Folbroke's Delicious Deception Page 17

  And he felt her surrender and followed her, releasing deep inside her with a cry of ‘Emily’.

  The joy of it shot through her in a final spasm. He knew her. In this most intimate moment, without sight or words, he had recognised her.

  Then he groaned and pulled away, shuddering and covering his face with his arm, as though he could hide himself from her by the act.

  She rolled to lie close to him, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling at his hand until she could see the faint glitter of his eyes in the moonlight as he stared, sightless, towards the ceiling.

  At last he spoke. ‘I am sorry. I did not think. But I have saved myself for her for too long.’

  ‘Your wife?’ she asked softly.

  ‘When I could not stand to be alone, and availed myself of the services of some nameless woman or other, it was her I imagined. Always her.’

  He reached out to touch her hair. ‘This week has been different, I swear it. But tonight, when it should have been no one but you, I used what you felt for me. I lied and pretended to be what you wanted me to be. And while I did it, I thought of her. I did not mean to say that name. You are precious to me. It would not have been thus, were you not. And I do not wish to hurt you.’

  ‘It is all right,’ she said, trying to gain understanding of what had just happened. The man beside her was racked with guilt over feeling just what she wanted him to feel for the woman he had left behind. She rolled even closer to lean over him and put her hands on his face, kissing his eyes and his lips, and whispering words of love. ‘It is all right. It changes nothing between us. I understand. She is with you, even as my husband is never far from my thoughts.’

  ‘She is in London. She will hear of my visit to White’s. She will hear about my eyes.’

  ‘Rumours, perhaps,’ she answered. ‘But it will be better if she hears the rest of it from you.’

  ‘And I have heard things as well,’ he whispered. ‘But not rumours. More truth than I ever wanted to know.’ He pulled her down on top of him, into his arms, crushing her cheek to his chest and she could feel the pain in him in the vibrations as he spoke. ‘She came to me, on the day we met. And I was not there for her. It would have been so much easier, had I been there when she needed me. And I failed her, because of my selfishness. It must not happen again.’

  ‘Your words do you credit,’ she said, glad that he could not see the smile on her face, for there was no way she could have explained it.

  He must have caught some trace of her mood, for he said, a little puzzled, ‘You understand what this will mean to us?’ His voice was sad, but resolute. ‘This cannot go on. I must go home to her.’

  ‘I knew that what we shared could not last, as did you.’ She gathered his hand to her mouth and kissed it lightly, in the dark, glad that he could not know how happy she felt. ‘And I know that you love her. You cannot see it, of course. But on the day you showed me her picture, I knew. You have worn the paint away from the continual touching of it. You want to be with her. You know it is true.’

  He gave a weak laugh. ‘More than I understood. More than I ever believed possible. I can deny it no longer. The woman is my home, and all I could have hoped for, had my life been different. I wronged her horribly by keeping the truth from her. And I have waited too long. Things have been lost that can never be regained.’

  ‘You will not know for sure until you speak to her,’ she urged.

  ‘I know it, true enough,’ he said. ‘About some things, there is nothing more that can be done. And now, I must make the best of what I have left.’

  She touched his face again, wishing she could soothe his worries away and tell him how little the blindness mattered. ‘It will be all right. But you must go to her.’

  He laughed again. ‘It is most unusual to accept advice from one’s mistress on what to do about the deep and unrequited feelings one might bear for one’s wife.’

  ‘Your feelings are not unrequited.’

  ‘How can you know?’

  ‘Because I know you. And as I love you, so will she. If you let her.’

  He pulled his hand away and wrapped his arms around her again, holding her close to him as though he were afraid to lose her. ‘And then, what will become of you?’

  ‘I will find my husband again, just as I planned to from the first.’

  ‘He left you.’

  ‘And yet I have never stopped loving him.’

  He held her even tighter. ‘I know it is wrong. And that I cannot have you. But I envy him even a portion of your affection, just as I long to be elsewhere. I am selfish and stupid, and I want to stay with you.’

  ‘It feels so good to hear those words from you. No matter what happens, I will remember them always. But you know what we must do.’ She kissed him then, letting the warmth of his love sink into her bones.

  ‘This could not last for ever,’ he whispered.

  ‘Perhaps, in a way, it shall,’ she whispered back.

  ‘We are happy now. And we shall be happy again. I am sure of it. But you need to do this one thing, to make it all right.’

  Chapter Seventeen

  When Adrian arrived back at his rooms it was well past breakfast, and he made no attempt to disguise his entry from Hendricks. The man was at the desk in the small sitting room, giving disapprovingly sharp rattles to the paper as he read, as though he could pretend that he had not been checking the clock and waiting for milord to come back from his whore.

  Let him wait, said the irritable voice in Adrian’s head. What right does he have to complain about your behaviour, if he has been using your absence to put horns on you? Had it been just yesterday morning that he had convinced himself that the man was guiltless, and that David was clearly mistaken about Emily’s behaviour?

  He struggled to calm himself, as he had lying awake in his lover’s arms. It did not matter what had happened, now that it was too late to change anything. The best he could hope for was to contain the damage. He could hardly blame Hendricks for loving the woman he wanted. And if she had true feelings in return, his attempting to slaughter Emily’s lover might break her heart. And nothing he did now would make him any less a cuckold.

  He stared in the direction of the rattling paper and said in his most bland voice, ‘If you will give me a few moments to prepare myself, then I will be ready for the post and the paper.’

  ‘Very good, my lord.’

  As the valet helped him to change, he could hear the sniff of disapproval at the condition of his cravat, and the ease with which the man had noticed that it had been tied by hands other than Adrian’s.

  On any other day, he would have found it amusing. But today, a part of him wished that he could tell the man to take the razor and slice it up the back. After today, there was a chance that it was the only evidence he would have of the touch of her hands, anywhere in his life.

  And his valet might as well follow the act by slitting his throat. He had lain there, after they had spoken of the future. And much as his mind had wanted to begin again, and to love her until he forgot what was to come, his body had found it impossible. He had done nothing but let her hold him. He had dozed as their last hours together ticked away, waiting to see the hazy glow of sunlight that was still allowed him.

  And when he’d awakened enough to listen, he could tell by her breathing that she slept soundly, as though she had no fears. Perhaps her feelings had not been as she’d claimed. Faced with their inevitable parting, it had not caused so much as a bad dream for her. And when the sun was fully up, she’d woken, washed and dressed him, and sent him out of her life with a hearty breakfast and a kiss upon the cheek.

  Halfway through his shave, Hendricks came into the room and went to the little table, bringing a cup of tea and lemon and forcing it into his hand.

  Much as he wanted it, he said, ‘Pour this out and bring me another. Just the tea. No sugar. No lemon.’ Perhaps some day, when he felt himself starting to forget her. But not today.

  ‘V
ery good, my lord.’

  Hendricks returned shortly with the corrected cup, and drew up a chair and his little writing desk, and began reading the mail. And Adrian allowed the ordinariness of it soothe his mind, pretending that nothing had changed between them.

  After dispensing with a tailor’s bill and an invitation to a ball that Adrian had set aside as a possible peace offering to Emily, Hendricks said, ‘The next is from your cousin Rupert.’

  Adrian took a sip from his cup. ‘Must we?’

  ‘Hmm.’ There was a pause as Hendricks scanned the letter. ‘If you will trust my opinion, my lord? No. It is more of the same, really. He saw you yesterday?’

  ‘At White’s,’ Adrian affirmed.

  ‘He wishes to see you again.’

  ‘How unfortunate for him.’

  ‘There is the matter of your wife …’

  ‘My response is the same as always,’ Adrian snapped. ‘Throw it on the fire.’

  ‘Very good, my lord.’

  And for the first time, Adrian wondered how much of his mail was read properly, and how much Hendricks had chosen to censor. For there was a chance that each letter he had received from Rupert had been full of warnings that his secretary had not seen fit to convey. ‘Hendricks.’

  ‘My lord?’

  Adrian reached into the pocket in his coat, and held out the locket containing the miniature. ‘Describe this to me.’

  ‘It is Lady Folbroke, my Lord,’ said the man, puzzled.

  ‘But what does it look like?’

  ‘It is done on ivory. In the painting, she is younger. Sixteen, perhaps. Her hair is longer and darker than it is now. Her face not so full.’

  ‘And the quality of the work?’

  ‘It does not do her justice, my lord.’

  ‘I see.’ And he had been displaying the ruined picture to the man for who knew how long, with no mention of it, with no clue that things were not as he thought they were.

  ‘I mean to write to her, today.’

  ‘Will you be needing my help, my lord?’

  ‘No. This is something I must do for myself.’ Then I shall hope that you are not so far gone in love for her that you do not deliver the letter. For I know we are rivals for her affection, even if you do not admit it.

  There was a rattle as Hendricks opened the desk drawer and got out the little frame that Adrian sometimes used to help him in his rare correspondence, with the notches to space the letters and the little bar on the paper so he could write a straight line. He arranged the pen and ink, explaining the location of each item as he placed them. Then he stood back to allow Adrian the seat.

  ‘A few minutes’ privacy, please, Mr Hendricks.’ God knew, the composing of the thing would be hard enough without having to concern himself with other eyes than his catching sight of the letter.

  ‘Very good, my lord.’

  When he was sure that the valet and secretary had left him alone in the room, he put pen to ink, and hoped for the best.

  Dear Emily,

  Now he was lost as to what he must say next. He got the little miniature back out of his pocket, rubbed his finger across the face of it again and set it next to the letter. It did not matter what was truly there. For a little while longer, he must believe in what he wanted to see.

  Almost without thinking, he picked it up and touched it again. It had been years since he’d seen Emily. And now that she was lost to him, he regretted not having looked at her more when he’d had the chance.

  He dipped his pen again.

  How are you faring in London?

  No, that would not do. She would look at the line and think that if her welfare concerned him, he should have come and seen for himself long before now. Hendricks had said she’d thrown the last letter into the fire, just as he had the note from Rupert.

  But he could not very well lead with a demand that she reveal the identity of her lover. Or a description of the events that had made his contacting her necessary. There had to be some preamble, some words that she would want to hear that would make her read more than a line or two.

  And so he wrote the words that he knew she most deserved to hear.

  I am sorry. Sorry for so many things that I hardly know where to start. But you have felt the sting of my neglect, and could give me a beginning, if I asked. Was it worse that I abandoned you? Or that I married you at all in the slipshod, neglectful way that I did, never asking your opinion in the matter, or taking the time to know your mind on the subject? I am sure that rumours of my disgraceful behaviour in London have reached you. Too many of those rumours are true. And I am sorry for the shame that they might have caused you.

  And for burdening you with the responsibility of my property and all that it entails, I am equally sorry. If it gave you pleasure, then I am glad of it. But if it caused you pain or worry to take on the part of a man while receiving none of the privileges, then I am sorry for that as well.

  He paused to wet his pen again. How could he tell her the rest?

  I wish to assure you that none of what has happened between us is any fault of yours. In many ways, you are a better wife than I deserved.

  All perfectly true, if a trifle understated. The fault lies with me.

  I am blind.

  Say it, he commanded himself, as though he could order his hand to move and write the words. Just say it. No dancing about.

  There are certain impediments to our marriage.

  No, that was not right. It sounded as if he had another wife.

  Problems.

  And that was too small. She was well aware that there were problems, unless she was as blind as he.

  I am unable to be the husband that you deserve.

  And that made him sound impotent. He cast another paper to the floor. He began again.

  I have been hiding from you the cause of our separation. I find that I am unable to explain the difficulty, and my conscience can no longer bear the weight of the secret. Were I to come into your presence, it would be plain enough. And so, my dear, I think it is time that we talked. If you are as bothered by this prolonged separation as I am, then I would have you come to my rooms this evening to discuss it. And if you are not, then I will plead all the harder that you grant me an hour of your time. If you cast this on the fire, as you did the last missive, know that I will not relent until we have spoken.

  I think I have guessed the reason for your recent visit, and there are things that must be settled between us before any more time passes. For my part, I wish to begin again and start fresh as though the last years that passed have never occurred.

  If you do not, I can hardly blame you. If another has captured your affection, then I am glad for him and will regret my folly for waiting too long and losing the chance for happiness between us.

  Either way, if you come to me tonight, you need have no fear of reproach. You will find me a humbled man, willing to take any course of action that puts your happiness ahead of my own. With my most heartfelt respect.

  His pen hovered for a moment and added, ‘and love’, before signing his name. After the last week, it would be a lie to say that she had all his love. But she held the place closest to his heart.

  And now, he began the other letter that he knew he must write. He scribbled the words hurriedly, not caring how they would look, just wishing to be done with it before he changed his mind, or said something he might regret. Then he blotted the ink, and fumbled for the wax and seal as he waited for it to cool. He addressed only one paper with a name and called for Hendricks, handing his secretary the two letters. ‘One to my lover. If you do not know by now how to reach her, then wait for evening and send this back in the carriage I know she will send. And the other …’ he moved the second letter carefully to the side ‘… to Emily.’ He smiled. ‘And careful not to confuse the two. That would be rather embarrassing.’

  From the silence from the man, and his rather abrupt movement in reaching for the papers, Adrian could feel the disapproval crackling in the
air.

  ‘I know you think less of me because of my behaviour towards Emily, Hendricks.’

  ‘I have no opinion on the matter, my lord.’

  ‘Nonsense. If you weren’t so damned polite, you’d have told me so to my face, long before now.’

  There was another telling silence, rather than the quick denial of an honest man.

  ‘If it is any consolation to you, there will be no more of this after today. I have chosen in a way that will do credit to my family and to myself.’

  ‘Very well, my lord.’ Hendricks was a good man. But he could not manage to sound pleased by this either, managing to say too much, in no words at all.

  ‘But while I have much to be ashamed of, and much to apologise for, I cannot feel guilty for what has happened. Although I have tried to do so, I simply cannot. The woman I have been with has loved me. Truly, and for myself. Not the title, but the man and all his flaws. It is not something I have experienced before. It was a wonderful thing, Hendricks.’

  ‘I would not know, sir.’

  Adrian bit his tongue to hide his surprise. Was it possible that he had misunderstood the reason for the man’s hesitance when speaking of Emily? Or perhaps it was that she did not return his feelings for her. If so, there was hope for him, though it might come at the expense of his friend.

  But then, who was the source of the rumours about her?

  And here was another unexpected gift from his lover. The sudden ability to feel sorry for someone other than himself. ‘That is truly a pity, Hendricks. I hope, for your sake, that your circumstances change. Love, whether given or received, is transformative, in and of itself.’

  And then he sat back in the desk, knowing that there was little for him to do but wait.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Emily sipped her morning chocolate, stretching luxuriously under the silk wrapper she wore. Lord, but she was stiff. And it made her blush to think of the reason for those sore muscles. Her darling Adrian had loved her quite enthusiastically.