“I’m leaving,” she announced, having hastily pinned her hair back into something resembling respectability.
“Of course you are.” He gave her a mocking bow, making no effort not to look at her.
She spun around from the mirror again, struggling to make her bodice stay in place. “What do you mean, of course I am?”
“I mean you always leave, when things get a little… uncomfortable. You run away to your little schedule and your infernal pocket watch. You hide behind them. It is no way to live.”
“I lived my life well enough before you came along, thank you very much.”
“Did you? Did you really?” With a mocking salute he left her.
Damn him! she thought with fury. Who was he to tell her what she should do? He knew nothing about her, about what she had been through, nothing.
*
Oliver was angry,with himself and with Lisbeth. He entered the overheated ballroom and wanted to immediately leave again. Too many bodies, too many eyes, and the drone of too many voices was like an assault to his nerves. Nerves that were already stretched to the limit. Things had gone way beyond a kiss. He could still smell her on his clothes, on his fingers. She had been more passionate than he had anticipated, and it had shocked and delighted him. His body had taken her tokens of encouragement and charged ahead. Her response, initially so promising, had suddenly gone cold. For what reason, he hadno idea. The puzzle which was Lisbeth was both complex and multilayered.
She desired him, but something was holding her back. Surely she knew she was free to do what she wished as a widow. The whole of London was convinced they were already lovers. Perhaps she really did dislike him or simply distrusted him. Perhaps Blackhurst had been a bore in bed or just simply a boar.
“Bellamy, penny for them?”
Oliver turned towards the voice. “Dalmere, how long have you been here?”
“Long enough to know you have been gone from this room for some time and only just returned.” Dalmere gave him a knowing wink.
Oliver smiled in reply.If only he knew…
“Where is the lady who has so captivated your nether regions lately? Honestly, I don’t know why you even bother coming to these events at all if you don’t actually stay around to attend.”
Oliver laughed. “What can I say? The lady is… demanding.”And that was no lie.“She will be here shortly, I am sure.”
He looked around the crowded room before turning back to Dalmere. “Tell me, what was Henry like before he passed? My aunt said he was much changed in the weeks leading up to his untimely death.”
Dalmere took a sip of his drink before regarding him. “He was changed.”
“How so?”
Dalmere looked away. “I hesitate to tell you.”
“Why?”
When Dalmere looked back Oliver saw anger in his eyes. “Because you loved him.”
Oliver tensed. “I don’t quite get your meaning.”
“I do not want to alter your memories of him. I loved him too; he was my friend. You are better to remember him as you do now.”
“He was that bad?”
Dalmere ran a hand through his golden angelic curls. “Do you really want to know? Once I tell you, you cannot undo what has been done.”
“I have to know.”
Dalmere sighed. “Very well. Your brother was in love with the Countess of Blackhurst.”
Oliver closed his eyes. He knew this. Why then did it hurt? Shouldn’t he be happy Henry had fallen in love? Even if unrequited? It wasn’t like the countess was his wife. Yet it felt so much like betrayal. He didn’t understand his own feelings when it came to Lisbeth. “Were they lovers?”
“I don’t think so, although he would have done anything for her. Anything! HehatedBlackhurst,” Dalmere said with a shake of his head. “We all did in our way. Henry, however, once saw the aftereffects of Blackhurst’s temper in the form of bruises and such on the lady and went into a fury.”
