Ann Lethbridge - Regency Society

She waited in dread that Hendricks might speak what he was really thinking and thus ruin their friendship and any chance of his continued employment.

There was a pause that was longer than simple circumspection. And then, he said nothing more than a curt, ‘I understand that, my lady. And I have nothing to say.’ And for a moment, she could see that he smouldered with frustration and a range of other emotions inappropriate to his station. Then they submerged beneath the surface again, leaving him the placid and efficient secretary she had grown to depend on. ‘I will accompany you this evening to assure Lord Folbroke that there is no hidden motivation to your actions, and that all was done in his best interest. But I suspect that although he may say he loves you both, it might not extend to an easy forgiveness to all of us who have had a part in this attempt at reconciliation.’

As the afternoon changed to evening, Adrian paced the floor of his sitting room, wondering if he had done the right thing. After a few false moves, he had learned to correct his course to avoid the pianoforte that still blocked the corner. And he wondered—would he ever have to explain the thing? Or would Emily take it as a given that it had come with the rooms? Perhaps she would expect him to show some interest in playing it, just as its giver had done.

If she did, he would admit his ignorance, but would submit meekly to lessons, if they were necessary to keep the peace. And if, each time he touched the keys, he thought of someone else?

It would be better if he did not think of the thing at all, and suggest they remove to Derbsyshire. It would give them a chance to discuss their differences in private, and he would be far from temptation. And if necessary, it would disguise the length of Emily’s confinement.

He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, realising that it made no difference. His progress across the room was unaffected, and it did nothing to shut out the pictures in his mind of his wife growing big with another man’s child. One did not need eyes to see one’s thoughts.

But he had told himself for over a year that this was likely to happen, and that it would not bother him. Now he must survive the future he’d created with as much grace as he could manage. Tonight could not be about recriminations. He had promised something quite different in his letter.

And had that been the correct course of action? Perhaps it would have been better to go to her, rather than expecting her to come to him? It would have shown more respect.

And that would have left him fumbling his way through Eston’s town house, demonstrating the worst of his condition before he had a chance to speak to her. Or, worse yet, he’d have discovered she was at her rooms.

‘Hendricks?’

‘He has not yet returned, my lord,’ said the footman who had come into the room to bring his afternoon tea.

Now Adrian imagined his secretary and his wife in the process of a tearful parting, spending a languid afternoon alone in each other’s arms.

He sat and took a sip of tea, scalding his tongue and focusing on the real pain instead of the imagined one. He must not doubt his choices, now that they had been made. Here, in his own home, he could show to best advantage that he was not the helpless invalid she might fear him to be. He had told his man to take care with his dressing, that everything about him must be just so, clean and unrumpled. And he had not taken so much as a drop of wine with his noon meal, that there would be no evidence of excess in his diet. He would hold himself with a posture worthy of a dress parade, so that, in the first glance she had of him after so much time, she would think him strong, capable and worthy.

Yet he knew them to be superficial changes that might not be enough. Perhaps it would be better if he were not alone for this. He was blind. And he had not told her. There was no way to excuse that.

He called out to the footman, ‘Parker, I wish to see Mr David Eston. Send someone to his rooms and request his presence, tonight, a little before seven. Explain to him that his sister will be visiting me. And that we may require his assistance in a delicate matter.’ Her brother could act as a buffer between them and escort Emily home, should the worst occur and she rejected him.

But if she was truly in a delicate condition, it was unfair of him to expect her to weather this alone.

That night, Emily twisted nervously upon the handkerchief in her hands as they came into her husband’s lodgings. Hendricks glanced at her and then at the footman, waving aside an announcement of their entrance. Then he threw himself down on a bench by the front door as though he suspected the need for a hasty retreat and gestured towards the sitting-room door. ‘He will be there, waiting for you,’ he said in a surly voice. ‘I am staying here. Call if you need me.’ He glared up at the footman, as though daring the man to find anything odd about the situation and said, ‘Parker, bring me a brandy. A large one.’ And then he stared at the opposite wall as though he had arrived alone and unwelcome in the home of strangers.

Emily walked down the hall and away from him, hesitating on the threshold of the room where she knew her husband waited.

But the pause had been without purpose, for she could not have turned and left unnoticed. Adrian’s head lifted eagerly at the faint scuffling of her slippers. ‘Emily?’ He listened for the clock. ‘You are early.’ He stood at her approach and her heart nearly stopped at the look on his face and the way he reached out to the doorway, welcoming her through it. He was wearing a coat of midnight-blue wool that lay smooth over his broad shoulders. Black trousers covered his well-shaped legs without a wrinkle. His cravat was a Mathematical and starched to an almost painful formality, and his boots gleamed in the candlelight as though his valet had made it a life’s mission to show her the reflection of her entrance back into her husband’s life.

It was a stark contrast to the casual handsomeness that he normally showed her. He had wished to look his best when they finally met.

And then he seemed to lift his face and scent the air. There was a growing look of alarm in his blank eyes. He had recognised her even before she spoke.

‘Adrian?’ she said softly.

His hand dropped and his smile faltered, becoming a frown. ‘I am sorry. I was not expecting …’

‘Perhaps you were.’

They both paused then, trying to decide who should speak next. She closed the distance between them, coming behind his desk to lay her hands on his face in reassurance. He closed his fingers over hers and felt the ring she had taken from her jewellery case for the occasion.

‘Your wedding ring,’ he said.

‘It belonged to your mother,’ she reminded him. ‘I have not been wearing it for some time. It is quite heavy. And I found the continual reminder … difficult.’ Then she brushed his fingers over her own features so there could be no doubt that he knew her for who she was. ‘There is something I must explain to you.’

‘I expect there is.’ His voice was as crisp and tight as his cravat.

‘Our first meeting was not by chance. I sought you out.’

‘I know that,’ he said. ‘But I did not know that you had found me.’ He pulled his hand from her grasp and away from her face.

‘Mr Hendricks warned me that I would not like what I found.’

‘Hendricks.’ Adrian gave her a cool smile. ‘Why am I not surprised that he was involved in this?’

‘But I insisted he take me to you. I did not know how horrible the place was, and when you rescued me …’

‘Lucky for you that I did, my lady,’ he said. ‘To go there demonstrated no care for your virtue or your safety.’