But for the first time in their marriage, his wife’s forgiving nature and sunny disposition had disappeared. Tears shone in her eyes as she shook her head.
“You needn’t bother,” she said, and then she whirled away in a swirl of pink roses and blond lace.
CHAPTER16
Elizabeth woke to puffy, red-rimmed eyes and utter misery in the same guest chamber at Hamilton House that she had previously inhabited on her stays with the Duke and Duchess of Montrose. Angel was curled up against her side, a warm and comforting presence. Loyal and loving.
Unlike her husband.
She closed her eyes in anguish and let her head fall back against the pillow as she remembered the devastating sight of Torrie in his study at the ball the night before, Lady Worthing on her knees before him, half the buttons on his falls undone. Another wave of agony washed over her at the memory, the bitter humiliation.
The realization that her greatest fears had come to fruition and that the husband she had fallen in love with didn’t love her in return. Worse, he had no intention of being faithful to her. He hadn’t even been able to wait until the ball was at an end to allow his mistress to service him.
Tears came, salty and hot, rolling down her cheeks. Violent, body-wracking sobs that made Angel move from her position at Elizabeth’s side and curl up at her head instead, as if to offer comfort.
But there was none for her. Her heart was shattered in a thousand tiny, irreparable shards. When she had run from the study in shock, she had been fortunate to find Hattie, who had taken one look at her and led her to a private chamber. Through tears and hiccups, she had relayed the tale of what she had seen in Torrie’s study. Although Torrie was her brother, Hattie had been grim and protective, deciding that Elizabeth should spend the night at Hamilton House.
Torrie had come to the door, his tone pleading, begging to offer an explanation as Hattie’s carriage had been brought around. But it had been far too much for her. She had refused, not wanting him to see how distraught she was. How humiliated. How devastated.
A light knock sounded at her bedchamber door, interrupting the latest round of sobs.
She sniffed. “Who is it?”
“It’s Hattie,” came the familiar voice of her sister-in-law.
Elizabeth knew that she ought to rise from the bed and at least slip into a dressing gown. To attempt to wash her face and dry her tears. But she was too miserable to move, so she called for Hattie to enter between sniffs and sobs.
The duchess entered, already dressed in a white morning gown of jaconet muslin trimmed with a double flounce at the hem, her raven hair perfectly coifed. Her countenance was pinched with concern as she crossed the chamber toward Elizabeth.
“How are you this morning, my dear?” she asked, her tone soft and low and steeped in sympathy.
“Broken,” she admitted, somehow leveraging herself into a sitting position, wishing she had a handkerchief to dry her cheeks.
“Of course, you are, after that dreadful scene yesterday.” As if reading Elizabeth’s mind, Hattie offered her a handkerchief she’d been carrying, apparently for just such an occasion. “I could box Torrie’s ears for what has happened.”
Elizabeth accepted it and scrubbed at her cheeks, mopping up the evidence of her devastation as best as she could. “Th-thank you for your kindness and your hospitality and your h-handkerchief.”
“We are sisters now.” Hattie perched on the edge of Elizabeth’s bed, smiling sadly. “I am here for you always, dearest.”
Torrie had spoken similar words to her, but those had been a lie.
Had everything he had said to her been nothing more than one ceaseless prevarication? She wondered now. Had he no loyalty, no concern for her at all? Had he merely been carrying out a duty, biding his time until he could return to his mistress’s bed? She didn’t want to entertain such thoughts. Couldn’t bear it.
“I wish the ball had never happened,” she said. “I wish that I never went to his study or opened that door.”
Most of all, she wished she could erase the memory of Torrie in a moment of intimacy with someone else. And not just anyone, but the beautiful Countess of Worthing. His former mistress, and perhaps, if last evening was any indication, his mistress once again.
“I understand.” Hattie patted her hand and then reached for Angel, who had once more settled at Elizabeth’s side. “There was a time in my own marriage when I witnessed something similarly devastating.”
But the duke and duchess were such a perfect couple. Their happiness and love for each other was palpable.
She frowned. “There was?”
“Yes.” Hattie gave her a sad, small smile. “You see, my husband was trying to push me away. He believed—and quite wrongly—that he wasn’t good enough for me, so he arranged for me to see him…well, I needn’t go into detail. Suffice it to say that the scene was just as distressing as what you witnessed last night in Torrie’s study.”
Elizabeth swallowed hard against another stinging rush of tears. “What happened?”
“I proved to him how thoroughly wrong he was,” Hattie said gently. “I told him how much I love him, how much I would always love him.”
