Regency Society. Ann Lethbridge
not. He is a very proud man. And I have hurt him.’
‘He is afraid of exposure.’
‘He is no coward,’ she argued.
‘Of course not,’ her brother said in a voice dripping with sarcasm. ‘He merely hid a problem from us, for our own good. He feared the family would remove the title from him.’ And then he added more thoughtfully, ‘There is a chance we could do it, you know. He has been behaving little better than a madman, shirking his responsibilities, risking life and limb. Perhaps we could arrange an annulment, if this is a family condition. If you had been together, then the children—’
‘No,’ she snapped back. ‘There is nothing wrong with his mind. It is only his eyes.’ She glared at her brother, daring him to oppose her. ‘You were quick enough to marry me off to him when he was your friend. And still content when he left me. You cannot just grab me back, three years down the road, because you fear that he is likely to leave me childless and lose the entail.’
‘It is not that at all, Emily.’ David groaned in frustration. ‘Why must everyone expect the worst from me? Can you truly be happy with him, in his condition? He will be helpless, and you will need to care for him, just as you would a child.’
‘You know nothing of him, and what he can do,’ she said hotly. ‘He is quite capable, when he has a mind to be. As sharp as he ever was. And if he needs my help?’ She lifted her chin. ‘I have been waiting for the chance to be his helpmeet for some time. And if there is to be a baby, there can be no question of it being anyone’s but his.’
Her brother raised his hands in front of him, in a gesture of helplessness, as though afraid to ask for further explanation. ‘I swear, it all grows more confusing, the longer you explain it to me.’
‘It is very simple. All that I have done, I’ve done out of love for Adrian. And I think, given the time, he will realise that he feels the same for me.’
David looked at her doubtfully. ‘Very well. If a reconciliation with him is what you wish, then I hope you succeed in it. But after today’s interview, it appears that Adrian is just as stubborn as he ever was at avoiding his marriage to you.’
And remembering what she had told herself on coming to London, she should be satisfied with the results of the visit. She had been with him, in the way a wife should be with a husband. She had assured herself that he was indeed alive, and Rupert had been assured of his well-being. She had ascertained the reason for his absence. If he continued to remain apart from her, she would at least know why. And in the end she had managed to speak clearly to him and to make him well aware of her displeasure at the separation.
She had succeeded in all the things she’d set out to do.
And done the one thing she had never meant to. She had fallen truly in love with her husband.
When his guests had left him, Adrian stormed back to his sitting room, still furious with the way he had been tricked. Emily had known him from the first moment. And had taunted him with the knowledge the whole time they had been together. How she must have laughed, to hold that from him, just out of reach.
The servants had known as well, for they had known her when she’d brought him home from the tavern. And Hendricks had been complicit in the elaborate scheme, for she could not have managed it without his help. Everyone surrounding him had kept mum on the truth, smirking as he mooned over his own wife, pitying him for the poor blind fool he was.
If they had the time to laugh, then perhaps they did not have enough to occupy their time. He swept a hand across his desk in the corner, sending pen, inkwell and writing frame all to the floor in a heap. He pulled down the books on the shelves as well, useless things that they were now that he could not see them. He upended the piano stool, and wishing he had discovered enough about the instrument to destroy the thing so that it would never trouble him with memories again. He slammed the lid down over the keys, and his fingers touched the decanter of brandy that had been set on top of it. To a man who did not play, such a thing was little better than a makeshift table.
His fingers closed around the neck of the bottle and he imagined the sound of shattering crystal, and the sight of the brandy, running in fine rivulets down the wall, or dripping amongst the piano strings, and the pungent scent of the spilled liquor …
Then he stopped. It would be better to drink the stuff than to waste a chance at oblivion. No need for a glass …
His arm froze with the bottle halfway to his mouth, and he held it there. How much of the last year had he spent just that way? Blundering about, breaking things and drinking. Time drifting by, and him neither knowing nor caring how it passed. How long had it been since he had given up even trying to care?
His Emily had been waiting at home for him, doing her best. She had said as much, hadn’t she, when she’d told him about her marriage? How she worried that it had been her fault he’d left. And how frightened she had been at first that he would reject her again. She had been sure that if he ever really knew her, it would be all over between them. He had made it his mission to prove otherwise.
In the end, she had been right. The moment he had learned her identity, he’d sent her away.
She had been quite accepting of his truth when she had learnt it. He had assured her that there was nothing on earth his wife could do to lose his trust, for the fault of their parting had been his, and his alone.
Still holding the brandy, he stooped to the floor, fumbling to pick up the books around his feet. How much damage had he done in his rush to destroy what he could not appreciate? The wreckage around him was the result of another selfish act on his part. Just one of many in the last few years.
But when had he ever learned to be otherwise? He thought of how angry he had been with his father’s foolish disregard for the future of the family. And how angry his father had been, when talking of Grandfather. All of them angry at fate for the hand that they had been dealt.
But while Emily might be cross with him for his treatment of her, she worked to change the things that made her unhappy and made the best of the rest.
She accepted him.
He took a deep breath and walked through the debris to the door, opening it suddenly on the shadow waiting in the hall.
‘Hendricks.’
‘Yes, milord.’ It was not the usual calm tone of his old friend, but the clipped words of a man simmering with rage.
Adrian cleared his throat, wishing he could call back any of the last fifteen minutes. ‘It seems I have had an embarrassing display of temper.’
‘I can see that.’
‘It will not happen again.’
‘Not to me, at least. I am giving my notice.’
For a moment, he felt the same as he had when his eyes started to fail him. As though everything he’d taken for granted had slipped away. ‘You can’t be serious.’
‘I am always serious, sir. You comment often on my lack of humour.’
‘It was never an issue, when we met,’ Adrian reminded him. ‘On the Peninsula, you were quite good company.’
‘And you never used to be such a damned fool.’ The blow seemed to come from nowhere as Hendricks kicked the brandy bottle from his hand. It hit the floor with a thump, and Adrian could hear the glug of the liquid spilling from it, and the smell of it soaking into the rug.
‘Perhaps not.’ Adrian stood, straightening to full height and taking a step forwards, knowing that whether he saw it or not, he still towered over his friend. It would not be wise to let him think he could strike twice. ‘But then I did not have to worry about you lying to me to cement your position with my wife. You have known of this charade from the beginning,