His question surprised her. “You want to brush my hair?”
“I want to tend to you,” he said softly, tenderly. “It pleases me to make you happy.”
What to say to that?
“That is kind of you,” she forced out, feeling dreadfully awkward and wanting nothing more than to kiss him again. “Particularly given the nature of our marriage.”
He raised a brow. “The nature of it?”
“A marriage founded in necessity rather than romance,” she elaborated, feeling her cheeks go hot at the last word and the images it conjured.
“Do you regret marrying me, Bess?” he asked, frowning down at her.
The rich, dark ebony of his banyan made his eyes appear bolder and brighter in the low candlelight. He was so handsome that looking at him created a physical ache deep within her. How was it possible that the beautiful rake she had yearned for from across so many ballrooms was now hers, within reach?
“I regret the circumstances. I regret the resentment you must feel toward me, having to marry with haste, all the scandal which has plagued us both. I regret that your mother dislikes me.”
“I don’t feel resentment toward you, Bess. And the scandal is my fault alone.” His frown deepened. “My mother’s opinion is unwarranted. She needs to know her place. My relationship with her is complicated, given that I don’t remember her. I can’t help but think that some of her frustration with me is falling on you instead of where it belongs. I’ll speak with her.”
He didn’t remember his own mother? Good heavens, how painful his amnesia must be, not just for Torrie, but for his family as well. She well understood the shadows in his gaze. Elizabeth thought of what it would be like to have no recollection of her parents, and it was as if someone had torn a gaping hole open inside her.
“No,” she hastened to say, not wanting to be the reason for further discord between Torrie and the dowager. “Don’t speak with her, please. I would prefer to do so myself, should it come to that, although I fervently hope to prove myself to her.”
“You’re certain?” His gaze searched hers.
Such consideration for her. She could scarcely reconcile this gentle, caring man with the rogue who had swept her from the library. And the man she had overheard speaking of her with such callous dismissal.
“Bess?” he pressed, breaking her from her whirling thoughts when she failed to answer him.
“Yes,” she said firmly. “I’m certain. Likely, she sees me as a threat to her position. Perhaps even to her relationship with you, such as it is. I want her to know that I pose her no challenge. It is my greatest wish to befriend her, for my recollections of my own mother are cloudy at best.”
He tilted his head, still studying her with the same intensity that set her instantly aflame, and yet in a different manner as well. Almost as if…
Well, as if hecared.
And what an astonishing notion that was, Viscount Torrington caring for Miss Elizabeth Brooke, plain, plump partridge.
“You lost your parents some time ago, did you not?” he asked.
“When I was a child.” Sorrow washed over her, along with bittersweet memories, and for the first time, it occurred to her just how truly fortunate she was that she had those years of happiness with her mother and father to cling to forever. Unlike Torrie, who had lost almost all his life in one blow.
“I’m so very sorry, Bess. How terrible it must have been for you, being left alone in the world. I cannot fathom it.” He reached for her, nothing more than his hand on her upper arm, the gesture meant to be a comfort.
And yet, that lone touch was so much more than solace. His hand was firm, his fingers wrapping gently around her, searing her through the linen of her night rail.
“Thank you. I am grateful for the time I did have with them. For the memories.”
He nodded, his expression changing, and she wished she would not have added the last words. How insensitive of her. She hadn’t meant to remind him of his lack of memories at all. What had she been thinking? Clearly, she had not been, and therein was the problem.
“I’m sorry, Torrie.” She caught her lower lip in her teeth and studied his countenance, looking for any hint of vulnerability and finding none. “I didn’t wish to…that is to say, forgive me. Please.”
“You needn’t apologize,” he said smoothly. “I’m glad for you, for the recollections you have, particularly if they give you comfort. In some ways, I wish it were different for me. And in other ways, I’m content in my life now, in the man I am. I’m not certain I could reconcile the two. It is likely better this way, with me not remembering most of my life before. The more I learn of the man I was, the less persuaded I am that I would like him.”
A self-deprecating smile quirked his mouth into a mocking half smile then, and she was not impervious to the effect of that smile, that look. Thatman.
Good, sweet heavens, he was more handsome than any gentleman had a right to be, whether rake or rogue or honorable, and she was the focus of all that masculine beauty, all that sensual intent.
“I like the man before me,” she admitted, startling herself with the revelation.
