A faint voice called from the other side, “Enter.”
Taking a deep breath, he opened the door.
Lady Tesh was sitting up in bed, an open book on her lap, looking like a wizened fairy surrounded by rich brocade fabrics that glinted like jewels in the faint light. Her hair hung in a thin white plait over one shoulder, and she wore a lacy nightgown that came up to her chin. Beside her, a frizzled white mop rose up, two beady eyes peering sleepily at him. Then Freya yawned and dropped off to sleep again.
Lady Tesh blinked owlishly at the sight of him. “Peter. I admit, I did not expect you.”
No recriminations in the carefully modulated tone. Didn’t he deserve them? He had come into her home, fought her at every turn, though she had welcomed him with open arms, even including his friend, a stranger to her. And how did he repay her? He had attacked her guest in public, embarrassing her in front of the entire town. He deserved her anger, just as he had deserved Lenora’s.
Yet she looked on him with patient, sad eyes. It was the same expression she had worn when she had come to him all those years ago to help his mother.
God, what he owed this woman. And here he was, about to refuse her the one payment for her kindness she had requested from him.
He steeled himself and stepped closer to her bed. “And yet, I think you know why I’m here.”
A look of ancient sadness flitted through her eyes. “Yes.” She sighed. “Is there nothing I can do to entice you to stay? You have a mere three days, after all, until you make good on your promise to your mother.”
His lips twisted. “I find I don’t care about that now.”
She nodded, understanding sitting heavily on her frail shoulders. “When will you leave?”
“Before daybreak. I don’t want…That is, I cannot…”
She smiled, though it was a dejected thing. “I know, my boy.”
He blinked back a sudden burning in his eyes. “Well then. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye, Peter.”
He spun about, so quickly the fine wool rug burned the balls of his feet. In a moment, he was out the door, his mind already on the journey ahead. Trying his damnedest not to think about what he was leaving behind.
Chapter 29
The last thing Lenora wanted to do the following morning was to go downstairs and pretend that everything was as it should be. Goodness knew the last week had been torture enough, feigning happiness with Lord Redburn and her lot in life when all she wished to do was weep.
Today, however, made the past sennight seem laughable. She rubbed at the muscles in her neck, wincing as her fingers massaged at the proof of a tense, sleepless night. Fighting to ignore the aching in her chest that seemed a permanent part of her now. Gone was the fury at Peter for attacking Lord Redburn; in its place was a burning anger that he had made her care when all along loving him had been an impossibility, when pride and revenge had been more important than her. She wouldn’t cry, wouldn’t weep for him. He didn’t deserve that from her.
Nor would she give him the satisfaction of seeing her affected. And so she strode from her room, hoping the outer shell of her did not show the wreck within.
Margery caught up with her as she was taking a stroll in Lady Tesh’s rose garden. “My dear, how did you sleep last night?”
The question was not a mild one. Lenora gave her a sad smile and linked arms with her friend. “Not well,” she admitted. “But I managed to get some rest. And you?”
“I didn’t sleep a wink.” She paused, letting her hand trail over the delicate bloom of a summer rose. “If you want to talk about last night, I’m here for you, Lenora.”
There was a cautiousness to Margery’s voice that made Lenora’s battered heart ache. They were not as easy with each other as they had been. And Lenora could blame no one but herself. She’d been so consumed with keeping the tragedies of her heart private that she’d effectively put up a wall between herself and her dearest friend. And though she had finally opened up some to Margery regarding her true feelings for Peter, she still held back the truth about Hillram. She should confess everything; goodness knew it was long overdue. And what a relief it would be to finally open her heart, not to feel so very alone anymore.
Yet to do so might cause her to lose the best friend she had ever had.
And so she smiled when she would cry, and shook her head. “It was distressing. But I’m quite over it, I assure you. Now I only need hope that Lord Redburn was not frightened away.”
Margery looked infinitely sad, and Lenora feared her ruse had been seen through. But soon her friend was smiling wryly. “I doubt he could be, dearest. He seems quite smitten with you.”
Lenora smiled along with her, for all the world as if she were a happy bride-to-be and not brokenhearted with grief. And she should be happy. Lord Redburn had proven himself to be attentive, affectionate, and all any woman could hope for in a husband. Yet she could not help being aware of a kernel of unease within her, a spark of misgiving regarding the man. She shook her head sharply, doing her best to ignore the whisper of a thought. No doubt it was due to Peter’s hold on her heart, which was proving to be as strong as ever. For her own sanity, she needed to find a way to free herself of that hold, to go into her marriage unencumbered by the past.
But how could she let Peter go when she hadn’t been able to let go of her guilt and grief over Hillram? And what would be left of her if she succeeded?
***
