Ann Lethbridge - Regency Society

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.’

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.

‘Very 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.