To think that their marriage had initially been caused by a carriage ride not too dissimilar to this one. The same carriage, the same man and woman and yet also so very different now. They had changed and grown together. Bess had shown him what love was, and he was doing his utmost every day to show her the same.
“I’m so damned grateful you did,” he told her, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips for a kiss, thwarted by kidskin leather. How he wished for her bare skin, but there was time aplenty for that later, after this cursed meeting was at an end. “Heaven knows I’ve caused more than my share of strain on them already.”
“As have I,” she said softly, smiling up at him, the gold flecks in her eyes catching in the sunlight and coming to vibrant life. “I ran from you that night when I should have stayed and listened. I should have trusted in you and the man I know you to be instead of clinging to my hurts and fears and doubts instead.”
He didn’t blame her for fleeing that night. He had handled everything poorly, and he regretted ever taking Eugenia to his study. Regretted ever touching her to begin with, before he had been with Bess. But that was in the past now, and the past could not be rewritten, merely learned from.
“All that matters is that you came back to me, my love,” he told her, so grateful that she had.
Those three days of uncertainty had been the worst of his life. Nothing less than sheer agony as he had waited at Hamilton House, praying she would forgive him. Hoping she would see him. Making small pilgrimages to her chamber door to leave her offerings.
“I’ll always come back to you,” she reassured him softly now, giving his hands a gentle squeeze. “You’re mine, and I am yours.”
And he couldn’t be more grateful for that distinction, knowing that despite all the mayhem surrounding them, he had Bess to come home to. Bess in his bed, in his heart, in his arms. He was a most fortunate man.
“I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again. I don’t deserve you.” He couldn’t resist claiming her lips with his in a quick, possessive kiss. “But I’m greedy when it comes to you, so I’ll keep you just the same.”
“Keep me forever,” she murmured, giving him a smile that made him want to demand the coachman turn around and take them directly back to Torrington House.
But they couldn’t do that. Not until they had this matter settled, and he knew it.
So Torrie appeased himself by giving Bess another kiss as the carriage drew to a halt outside their destination. He inhaled her familiar scent, floral and sweet, trying to keep the crushing sense of dread dwelling in his stomach at bay. They had spent the past few days following her return to Torrington House in an idyll.
Most of which had been spent in either his or Bess’s bedchamber.
But now, the ugliness of reality was about to intrude.
As if sensing his disquiet, Bess laid a calming hand on his forearm. “The sooner this is all settled, the better you will feel.”
She was right, of course. She always was. But he didn’t want to have to drag her into such a tangled mess. And he had no notion of how Eugenia would react to their call. The note she had sent in response to his request for a meeting had been terse. He couldn’t blame her; when they had last parted, he had been cold and furious, his words sharp.
He hadn’t been thinking of needing to strike a conciliatory tone with her then. He had been terrified of the prospect of losing Bess.
“I do believe you are more accepting of all this than I am,” he said wryly, for he was still reconciling himself to the knowledge that his firstborn child would not be with Bess. It would be a child he could not publicly claim as his own, and one with whom he may have precious little involvement, depending on Eugenia and Worthing.
“I believe in doing what is best,” she said simply, her calm demeanor imbuing him with a sense of purpose.
Once again, she was right.
Together, they descended from the carriage and made their way up the walk, where they were met by the frowning butler Torrie had often avoided on his previous calls during his association with Eugenia. He and Bess stood together in awkward silence in the front entry, fingers entwined, while their call was announced to Lady Worthing. After a several-minute wait, the butler returned and escorted them to the drawing room where their hostess awaited them with a look of ill-concealed disgust as she rose to her feet. Her willowy figure was swathed in a gown that was nearly transparent, and her pale loveliness was no comparison to Bess’s dark-haired beauty and kindhearted compassion.
Eugenia had the grace to wait until the butler had left them in privacy to make her displeasure known.
“You wrote that you wished to speak with me,” she said, raising an icy, blonde brow. “However, you never mentioned an audience. If I had known you were bringing my grasping former governess along with you, I most assuredly would have denied your request.”
“Lady Torrington is not an audience,” he countered, trying to keep his ire in check. “And I will thank you to keep from insulting her.”
Eugenia’s lips twisted in a bitterly mocking smile. “I do wish you would have come alone, Torrie.”
“Torrington,” he corrected her, for their time of informality had long since passed.
She stiffened at his light reprimand, nostrils flaring. “Forgive me, my lord, if I was too familiar. It is an old habit drawn from experience, you see.”
Her words were meant as an affront to Bess, who had stiffened at his side but still maintained her remarkable sangfroid.
“Leave the past where it belongs,” he snapped, not liking the implications of what Eugenia had said.
“Hmm.” Eugenia cast a narrow-eyed look at Bess. “And look at you. Daring to enter my drawing room. You must be quite pleased with yourself. Playing the whore for Torrington has suited you well.”
