Let Me Be The One (44 page)

Loving him made her aware of herself. She learned the shape of her breasts in the cup of his hands and the curve of her hip against the taut plane of his thigh. And more profoundly, she understood the breadth of her own heart when she laid her palm over his.

She opened her thighs at his urging and cradled him with her hips as he thrust into her. Her heels pressed into the mattress, lifting, driving him deeper inside. Her fingers rested on his shoulders, lightly at first, then with more pressure. He moved slowly and deeply, and she felt herself being drawn inexorably toward the same end as he, giving as much as she was given, surrendering herself in a manner that was no defeat. Though he could not know it, the terms North had finally wrested from her included her heart.

She thought she might cry. His release was powerful, thrilling. She shattered a moment later, every line of tension in her slender frame vibrating under him. Elizabeth held him to her as she always did, slipping her arms around his back, not wanting him to leave her too soon. She hoped that she alone understood the desperation that made her want to keep him with her now.

A full minute passed before North eased himself out of Elizabeth's embrace. Without a word he slipped out of bed and padded naked to their dressing room. She heard him washing, and a little later he appeared carrying a small basin of water. She bit her lip, willing herself to remain outwardly indifferent as he set the basin down and prepared to wash every last trace of him from her body.

Candlelight bathed her skin. A thin sheen of perspiration made her flesh glow. North's remote glance was drawn to the mark on her neck and another on the soft underside of her arm. Her breasts were still slightly swollen, as was her mouth. He pulled his eyes away and touched the damp cloth to her flat belly. He felt her abdomen retract as she sucked in a breath.

North looked down at his hand. The cloth in the cup of his palm made it curve over her belly. It was as if she were rounded there, growing large with their child. He removed his hand quickly and dropped the cloth back in the basin. Droplets of water splashed her and she twisted a little as she went to flick them away.

Candlelight. Her movement. Beads of water. They came together in perfect concert to reveal the faint web of silvery striations that marked the taut flesh of her abdomen and hip.

North's eyes were riveted, first to her belly, and then to her stricken face as she saw what was in his. He understood clearly in that moment what had never occurred to him before: His wife did not want his baby because she had already given birth. "What happened to your child, Elizabeth?"

Chapter 13

Elizabeth realized immediately that he had no intention of listening to her answer. He was stalking toward the dressing room before she had pushed herself upright. Grabbing her nightgown, she yanked it over her head and followed him.

"Stay away from me," North said. "You cannot depend on me to keep my promise not to strike you."

Elizabeth shrank a little against the doorjamb, but she did not move away. "Where are you going?"

"Away." He jammed his legs into a pair of trousers, turning away from Elizabeth as he fastened them. "Endeavor to remove yourself from this house before I return."

"I warned you," she said hoarsely, her throat thick with unshed tears. "I told you how it would be; that I would give you disgust of me. Now I am to hide myself away like a leper because it has come to pass. I will not do it, North. Do you hear me? I will not do it!"

"Everyone in Merrifeld Square can hear you." He shrugged into his shirt and moved to stand in front of the cheval glass to tuck it in. His eyes were drawn to Elizabeth's reflection. She looked like a wraith, her complexion almost as pale as the shift she wore. Her arms were caught behind her back as she leaned against the doorjamb. He supposed she kept them there to prevent herself from attacking him. She seemed to think she had reason. He spoke to remind her that she did not. "There
is
a child somewhere, isn't there?"

She hesitated. Years of denial had made it almost seem otherwise. "Yes," she said softly, finally.

North carefully released a long breath. "Why could you have not told me?"

The question did not entirely surprise her. It went straight to the heart of his hurt. "I cannot explain why."

He turned on her. His voice was calm, weary. "Get out, Elizabeth. I swear I cannot tolerate the sight of you just now."

It was what she saw in his eyes that made her go. She had felt the sting of that look before. Her father had once regarded her with the same disillusion and it still had the power to lash her. No matter how often she had imagined coming under North's similar regard, she was not prepared for it.

Elizabeth sat on the edge of the bed until North was gone. When she heard the front door close, she methodically dressed herself and made arrangements to leave Merrifeld Square.

* * *

It was noon of the following day before North arrived home. The evidence that he had passed the last twelve hours in some activity other than sleep was in the faint gray shadows beneath his eyes and the limp folds of his cravat. If that was not enough to convince his valet that he had been out, there was also the unmistakable odor of tobacco smoke, gin, and sweat clinging to his clothes and his skin.

Brill had a bath drawn immediately upon witnessing Northam's slow ascent of the stairs. "Shall I prepare a morning-after drink for you, my lord?"

"God no," North said feelingly. He leaned forward in the tub as Brill tipped the kettle and sluiced his back with warm water. "Hate that stuff you concoct, Brill. What do you put in it?"

"That would be a carefully guarded secret, my lord."

"Probably just as well." North fell back, resting his head against the towel Brill hastily inserted against the lip of the tub. "Lady Northam is gone?"

"Yes, my lord."

North did not miss the note of disapproval in Brill's tone. Though he had no need to explain himself, North decided he should discover how the lie set on his tongue. "She goes to Rosemont at her stepmother's request."

"So she said."

There it was again. That disapproving edge. North glanced up at his valet. Brill's thin features were no more pinched than was usual. From North's angle he was a sharp chin, two finely cut nostrils, and an overhanging brow that was honed like a blade. "She told you?"

"Yes, my lord. I assisted her packing."

North rubbed his temple. "Surely her maid could have done that."

"Her ladyship did not want to wake her maid since she had no intention of taking her. She came upon me in the hall and asked for my help. I obliged, of course."

"Of course," North said absently. He wasn't at all certain he understood what Brill was saying about Elizabeth's maid. Why would she have to be awakened at all? She was invariably up before Elizabeth, ready to lend her services within moments of Elizabeth ringing for her. "Brill?"

"Yes, my lord?"

"What time did Lady Northam leave this morning?"

"I believe it was shortly after one, my lord. I sent young Tipton to find a hack on the half-hour. It took him some time to locate a suitable driver as I insisted on sobriety as a requirement."

Fat droplets of water slapped the floor and fell back in the tub as North hauled himself out. He grabbed the towel Brill held out to him. "What do you mean she took a hack? And she left while it was still dark? In the middle of the night? Why did you not send someone for me?"

Brill patiently offered another towel when North's first one flew from his hands as he hastily rubbed his hair. "Her ladyship specifically requested a hack. I reminded her of the carriage that could be brought quickly from the livery for her, but she declined that conveyance. As for the hour, Lady Northam was adamant that there was some urgency. And to the last, I asked if I could send someone for you, as I knew you had quit the house only a short time before..." Brill cleared his throat, an action that drew attention to his censure rather than covering it. "Lady Northam assured me it was unnecessary. She said you were not only aware of her departure but had encouraged it."

North snorted. "Do you think I'd permit my wife to leave London at that hour of the night in a hack?"

Brill made no reply and unemotionally handed North a third towel.

North tossed it back. "Riding clothes, Brill. Did you hear what direction Lady Northam gave the hack?"

"The post road, of course. I believe she means to take a coach from there."

North actually shuddered, though it was not entirely due to the thought of Elizabeth crammed in a coach with London's rough trade. "My clothes, Brill. Before I expire of cold."

* * *

The conservatory at Stonewickam was a most pleasant room. The air was faintly humid and rich with the scent of black earth and lush greenery. Large ferns in stone pots served as sentinels just inside the doorway. Ivy climbed the interior stone wall, and the high domed ceiling made entirely of glass let in winter sunlight.

Elizabeth reclined on a chaise near the south-facing bank of windows. Light streamed over her shoulder and highlighted the pages of her book. She felt her eyes drifting to the row of orchids on the floor just beyond her reach. Their delicate lavender and pale blue petals were an exotic wonder at this time of year and she enjoyed looking at them. It made her feel as if she were not in England at all, but in some remote jungle, or at least how she imagined a jungle might look.

"Here you are."

Elizabeth started to sit up as Lord Worth stepped into view between a neatly trimmed bush of miniature roses and the offshoot of a palm tree he had received some fifty years earlier as a gift from the great explorer Captain James Cook. He waved her back in place with the hand that was not leaning heavily on his cane. "Please," she said, moving her legs to one side and closing her book. "Will you sit with me?"

"If it pleases you," he said gruffly.

She smiled. North's grandfather was really a very sweet man. Elizabeth could easily conceive that he had intimidated his grandchildren with his fiercely drawn countenance and willingness to pontificate upon a variety of subjects, but Elizabeth found him to be a most tenderhearted soul. One only had to watch him working in the conservatory, puttering among his orchids and roses, talking to them, encouraging and admonishing them, to see that his gentleness ran deep to the bone.

"What are you smiling at, gel?"

"You. Your grandson is very much like you, do you know that?"

"Eh? You wouldn't insult your host, now would you?" He used his cane to point to the potted palm. "That tree has more in the way of good sense than Brendan. Still, it's hard to credit the boy hasn't found you by now."

"I told you not to expect him. He is not looking for me. He has a thief to catch." Elizabeth watched Worth consider this, stretching his long legs in front of him and crossing them at the ankle. It was exactly the same posture that North adopted for contemplation. She felt a wave of sadness and longing that quite took her breath away.

"What is it?" Cecil Worth demanded. "Are you not well?"

"I'm fine."

"You don't look fine. Look like you mean to lose your breakfast."

"I mean to do no such thing."

He continued to regard her suspiciously. "You are not gravid, are you? I told you I could not be persuaded to hide you here if that was the way of it."

"And I told you I am not."

"Not what? Hiding or gravid?"

"Both. Neither."

"Well, what's wrong with my grandson that he ain't got a child by you?"

Elizabeth sighed. "You will not bully me, my lord. If that is your pleasure, I shall quit the conservatory and go to my room."

"Hah!" He gave the tip of his cane a sharp tap on the stone floor. "You are certainly an impudent gel."

"You cannot deliver a set down when you are laughing, no matter how hard you snap that cane. It is not effective."

"Humph. I was not laughing."

"Your eyes were."

"Humph."

Elizabeth covered her smile with one hand. She was fortunate indeed to have thought of North's grandfather as a possible refuge, more fortunate still that he had embraced her with so few reservations.

Arriving in the village of Stonewickam a full two days after leaving London, Elizabeth had been bone weary and without many resources left. She used almost half the money she had remaining to hire an open carriage to take her to Lord Worth's. The two-seater was just large enough for her and the driver. Her trunk rested on a rack behind them and she carried her valise in her lap.