“You see, I didn’t hear you come up behind me. I … didn’t realize you were there.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Last Saturday … Oh, I’m starting in the wrong place. Telling this badly.”
“Take your time. Shall I pour another sherry?” He glanced at the cabinet and said, “I see five glasses are still intact.” She returned his smile tremulously and nodded. He poured a sherry and handed it to her.
Susan took a sip and set it aside. She knitted her fingers, looking down as the silence stretched out.
“It’s humiliating to put into words,” she said huskily. “But I want you to understand.” Susan breathed a shuddering sigh. “It’s an older story, but I’ll start with the Prince of Wales. He stopped by on Saturday, knowing I was alone for the afternoon. After nearly three years, I’d forgotten what it felt like to be … cornered. The horror came back. And the disgust. Augustus, my husband, would …” She looked away.
“I think I understand.”
“There was no tenderness, you see. Only pain. No intimacy, only his taking what he wanted. And always from … he never …” Susan looked away. “It was as if he didn’t want to look into my face, my eyes, to seeme. So, when you came up behind me …” She covered her face with his handkerchief.
“Susan.”
Her hands dropped to her lap. “After a particularly … brutal night, I sought advice from our family lawyer—my family’s, not my husband’s. I thought the changes to the marriage laws … It was an excruciating conversation.”
“I can guess what he said.”
“He said I had no hope in law and quoted some jurist from the last century. A husband’s right to his wife’s body for … marital relations is absolute. Aside from him, I’ve never told this to another living soul.”
“It’s past time you did.” He watched her trembling fingers fold his handkerchief into a neat square and set it aside. He pulled a dining chair beside hers and took her hand. “Things fester when you don’t speak of them.”
“I think you are right.” She smiled tremulously. “Thank you, Lionel.”
“Susan, my dear …” He released her hand. “Perhaps this isn’t an ideal time …” He stood. “Will you allow me to say what I came early to ask?”
Susan looked up at him, her eyes luminous.
“Surely, you have some inkling … you’ve guessed my feelings.” He laid his hand on his breast and asked, “May I speak?”
She nodded.
He offered her his hands; she grasped them and rose. “Dearest Susan, will you marry me? Please don’t say the past is in the way. Please let me try to wash away every painful memory.”
“I won’t say it,” she said softly. Then more confidently, “Because it isn’t true. In all this terrible business, you are the one good thing.” Her eyes filled, and she blinked at her tears. “I fell in love with you.”
Lionel took a step forward and touched his lips to hers. When she slid her hands across his shoulders and around his neck, he kissed her again, lingeringly. Then his lips slid across her cheek, and he whispered, “Susan. My lovely, lovely Susan.”
She pulled back and looked into his eyes, smiling. “Your Susan.” And they kissed again.
After a while, Lionel held her at arm’s length. “I believe I could stay here all afternoon. Longer. But the royal train and Windsor await.”
“Goodness,” Susan said, startled. “I’d forgotten.”
“I shouldn’t crow, but not every man can say he drove an appointment with the Queen of England out of a young woman’s head.”
Lionel drew Susan to him and kissed her again.
CHAPTER 15
Susan’s efforts to cheer Princess Louise on the ninety-minute train ride from London to Windsor Station failed.
Lady Styles couldn’t blame her. Exchanging Marlborough House’s gilded halls for the queen’s gloomy court was a poor bargain. Yet, sympathy was an effort, given Susan’s happiness. She had been discreet with Lionel at the station, thinking,Joy can be vexing when others are miserable. So, she listened patiently to Louise’s string of complaints, ending with two familiar ones.
“The queen’s demands will be endless. Helena is busy with her baby, so my sister is relieved of her duties as Mama’s secretary. Now,Iwill become the queen’s indentured servant.”
Susan murmured soothing sympathy as Louise moved to her second grievance.
“If only Mama would allow a studio at Windsor.Shemay sketch and paint wherever it pleases her, but one cannotsculptin the corner of a sitting room!”
