Regency Society

Chapter Seventeen

When Adrian arrived back at his rooms it was well past breakfast, and he made no attempt to disguise his entry from Hendricks. The man was at the desk in the small sitting room, giving disapprovingly sharp rattles to the paper as he read, as though he could pretend that he had not been checking the clock and waiting for milord to come back from his whore.

Let him wait, said the irritable voice in Adrian’s head. What right does he have to complain about your behaviour, if he has been using your absence to put horns on you? Had it been just yesterday morning that he had convinced himself that the man was guiltless, and that David was clearly mistaken about Emily’s behaviour?

He struggled to calm himself, as he had lying awake in his lover’s arms. It did not matter what had happened, now that it was too late to change anything. The best he could hope for was to contain the damage. He could hardly blame Hendricks for loving the woman he wanted. And if she had true feelings in return, his attempting to slaughter Emily’s lover might break her heart. And nothing he did now would make him any less a cuckold.

He stared in the direction of the rattling paper and said in his most bland voice, ‘If you will give me a few moments to prepare myself, then I will be ready for the post and the paper.’

‘Very good, my lord.’

As the valet helped him to change, he could hear the sniff of disapproval at the condition of his cravat, and the ease with which the man had noticed that it had been tied by hands other than Adrian’s.

On any other day, he would have found it amusing. But today, a part of him wished that he could tell the man to take the razor and slice it up the back. After today, there was a chance that it was the only evidence he would have of the touch of her hands, anywhere in his life.

And his valet might as well follow the act by slitting his throat. He had lain there, after they had spoken of the future. And much as his mind had wanted to begin again, and to love her until he forgot what was to come, his body had found it impossible. He had done nothing but let her hold him. He had dozed as their last hours together ticked away, waiting to see the hazy glow of sunlight that was still allowed him.

And when he’d awakened enough to listen, he could tell by her breathing that she slept soundly, as though she had no fears. Perhaps her feelings had not been as she’d claimed. Faced with their inevitable parting, it had not caused so much as a bad dream for her. And when the sun was fully up, she’d woken, washed and dressed him, and sent him out of her life with a hearty breakfast and a kiss upon the cheek.

Halfway through his shave, Hendricks came into the room and went to the little table, bringing a cup of tea and lemon and forcing it into his hand.

Much as he wanted it, he said, ‘Pour this out and bring me another. Just the tea. No sugar. No lemon.’ Perhaps some day, when he felt himself starting to forget her. But not today.

‘Very good, my lord.’

Hendricks returned shortly with the corrected cup, and drew up a chair and his little writing desk, and began reading the mail. And Adrian allowed the ordinariness of it soothe his mind, pretending that nothing had changed between them.

After dispensing with a tailor’s bill and an invitation to a ball that Adrian had set aside as a possible peace offering to Emily, Hendricks said, ‘The next is from your cousin Rupert.’

Adrian took a sip from his cup. ‘Must we?’

‘Hmm.’ There was a pause as Hendricks scanned the letter. ‘If you will trust my opinion, my lord? No. It is more of the same, really. He saw you yesterday?’

‘At White’s,’ Adrian affirmed.

‘He wishes to see you again.’

‘How unfortunate for him.’

‘There is the matter of your wife …’

‘My response is the same as always,’ Adrian snapped. ‘Throw it on the fire.’

‘Very good, my lord.’

And for the first time, Adrian wondered how much of his mail was read properly, and how much Hendricks had chosen to censor. For there was a chance that each letter he had received from Rupert had been full of warnings that his secretary had not seen fit to convey. ‘Hendricks.’

‘My lord?’

Adrian reached into the pocket in his coat, and held out the locket containing the miniature. ‘Describe this to me.’

‘It is Lady Folbroke, my Lord,’ said the man, puzzled.

‘But what does it look like?’

‘It is done on ivory. In the painting, she is younger. Sixteen, perhaps. Her hair is longer and darker than it is now. Her face not so full.’

‘And the quality of the work?’

‘It does not do her justice, my lord.’

‘I see.’ And he had been displaying the ruined picture to the man for who knew how long, with no mention of it, with no clue that things were not as he thought they were.

‘I mean to write to her, today.’

‘Will you be needing my help, my lord?’

‘No. This is something I must do for myself.’ Then I shall hope that you are not so far gone in love for her that you do not deliver the letter. For I know we are rivals for her affection, even if you do not admit it.

There was a rattle as Hendricks opened the desk drawer and got out the little frame that Adrian sometimes used to help him in his rare correspondence, with the notches to space the letters and the little bar on the paper so he could write a straight line. He arranged the pen and ink, explaining the location of each item as he placed them. Then he stood back to allow Adrian the seat.

‘A few minutes’ privacy, please, Mr Hendricks.’ God knew, the composing of the thing would be hard enough without having to concern himself with other eyes than his catching sight of the letter.

‘Very good, my lord.’

When he was sure that the valet and secretary had left him alone in the room, he put pen to ink, and hoped for the best.

Dear Emily,

Now he was lost as to what he must say next. He got the little miniature back out of his pocket, rubbed his finger across the face of it again and set it next to the letter. It did not matter what was truly there. For a little while longer, he must believe in what he wanted to see.

Almost without thinking, he picked it up and touched it again. It had been years since he’d seen Emily. And now that she was lost to him, he regretted not having looked at her more when he’d had the chance.

He dipped his pen again.

How are you faring in London?

No, that would not do. She would look at the line and think that if her welfare concerned him, he should have come and seen for himself long before now. Hendricks had said she’d thrown the last letter into the fire, just as he had the note from Rupert.

But he could not very well lead with a demand that she reveal the identity of her lover. Or a description of the events that had made his contacting her necessary. There had to be some preamble, some words that she would want to hear that would make her read more than a line or two.

And so he wrote the words that he knew she most deserved to hear.

I am sorry. Sorry for so many things that I hardly know where to start. But you have felt the sting of my neglect, and could give me a beginning, if I asked. Was it worse that I abandoned you? Or that I married you at all in the slipshod, neglectful way that I did, never asking your opinion in the matter, or taking the time to know your mind on the subject? I am sure that rumours of my disgraceful behaviour in London have reached you. Too many of those rumours are true. And I am sorry for the shame that they might have caused you.

And for burdening you with the responsibility of my property and all that it entails, I am equally sorry. If it gave you pleasure, then I am glad of it. But if it caused you pain or worry to take on the part of a man while receiving none of the privileges, then I am sorry for that as well.

He paused to wet his pen again. How could he tell her the rest?

I wish to assure you that none of what has happened between us is any fault of yours. In many ways, you are a better wife than I deserved.

All perfectly true, if a trifle understated. The fault lies with me.

I am blind.

Say it, he commanded himself, as though he could order his hand to move and write the words. Just say it. No dancing about.

There are certain impediments to our marriage.

No, that was not right. It sounded as if he had another wife.

Problems.

And that was too small. She was well aware that there were problems, unless she was as blind as he.

I am unable to be the husband that you deserve.

And that made him sound impotent. He cast another paper to the floor. He began again.

I have been hiding from you the cause of our separation. I find that I am unable to explain the difficulty, and my conscience can no longer bear the weight of the secret. Were I to come into your presence, it would be plain enough. And so, my dear, I think it is time that we talked. If you are as bothered by this prolonged separation as I am, then I would have you come to my rooms this evening to discuss it. And if you are not, then I will plead all the harder that you grant me an hour of your time. If you cast this on the fire, as you did the last missive, know that I will not relent until we have spoken.

I think I have guessed the reason for your recent visit, and there are things that must be settled between us before any more time passes. For my part, I wish to begin again and start fresh as though the last years that passed have never occurred.

If you do not, I can hardly blame you. If another has captured your affection, then I am glad for him and will regret my folly for waiting too long and losing the chance for happiness between us.

Either way, if you come to me tonight, you need have no fear of reproach. You will find me a humbled man, willing to take any course of action that puts your happiness ahead of my own. With my most heartfelt respect.

His pen hovered for a moment and added, ‘and love’, before signing his name. After the last week, it would be a lie to say that she had all his love. But she held the place closest to his heart.

And now, he began the other letter that he knew he must write. He scribbled the words hurriedly, not caring how they would look, just wishing to be done with it before he changed his mind, or said something he might regret. Then he blotted the ink, and fumbled for the wax and seal as he waited for it to cool. He addressed only one paper with a name and called for Hendricks, handing his secretary the two letters. ‘One to my lover. If you do not know by now how to reach her, then wait for evening and send this back in the carriage I know she will send. And the other …’ he moved the second letter carefully to the side ‘… to Emily.’ He smiled. ‘And careful not to confuse the two. That would be rather embarrassing.’

From the silence from the man, and his rather abrupt movement in reaching for the papers, Adrian could feel the disapproval crackling in the air.

‘I know you think less of me because of my behaviour towards Emily, Hendricks.’

‘I have no opinion on the matter, my lord.’

‘Nonsense. If you weren’t so damned polite, you’d have told me so to my face, long before now.’

There was another telling silence, rather than the quick denial of an honest man.

‘If it is any consolation to you, there will be no more of this after today. I have chosen in a way that will do credit to my family and to myself.’

‘Very well, my lord.’ Hendricks was a good man. But he could not manage to sound pleased by this either, managing to say too much, in no words at all.

‘But while I have much to be ashamed of, and much to apologise for, I cannot feel guilty for what has happened. Although I have tried to do so, I simply cannot. The woman I have been with has loved me. Truly, and for myself. Not the title, but the man and all his flaws. It is not something I have experienced before. It was a wonderful thing, Hendricks.’

‘I would not know, sir.’

Adrian bit his tongue to hide his surprise. Was it possible that he had misunderstood the reason for the man’s hesitance when speaking of Emily? Or perhaps it was that she did not return his feelings for her. If so, there was hope for him, though it might come at the expense of his friend.

But then, who was the source of the rumours about her?

And here was another unexpected gift from his lover. The sudden ability to feel sorry for someone other than himself. ‘That is truly a pity, Hendricks. I hope, for your sake, that your circumstances change. Love, whether given or received, is transformative, in and of itself.’

And then he sat back in the desk, knowing that there was little for him to do but wait.

Chapter Eighteen

Emily sipped her morning chocolate, stretching luxuriously under the silk wrapper she wore. Lord, but she was stiff. And it made her blush to think of the reason for those sore muscles. Her darling Adrian had loved her quite enthusiastically.

And he had loved his wife as well. Her heart had ached afterwards almost as much as her body did now, to see him curled against her, broken by his betrayal of both the women he imagined were a part of his life. And she had wanted to reveal herself to him, to ease his suffering.

But a small part of her had cautioned her to stay silent. And as she thought about it, that bit had grown, reminding her that he was not the only one to suffer for his actions. Her misery had lasted for nearly the whole time she had known him. And his could last a day more. At least until his repentance bore fruit, and he made some kind of overture to the woman he had promised before God to cherish.

There was a knock at the door, and her maid informed her that Mr Hendricks was waiting in the sitting room with news for her. Emily gave a quick glance in the mirror to be sure that the robe she wore was decent enough to receive company, tightened the belt under her breasts and went out to greet her husband’s secretary.

He held two sealed papers out to her and said, ‘He has written to you. In both your guises. I was instructed to be sure not to confuse the letters, to take the first one immediately to his wife, and that if I did not know the direction to you here, to send this with the coach that would come for him in the evening.’

‘I see.’ So whatever he had to say, he meant to speak first to his wife on the matter. Emily weighed the two pieces of paper in her hand, trying to guess the contents without opening them, and nodded absently to Hendricks, directing him to await her replies.

Did it really matter which she opened first? For if she had read the situation correctly, they would be two sides of the coin. She must trust, now that she had met the man, that the pair of them were not full of lies.

She cracked the seal on the one that bore no name, and read.

My love.

It is with difficulty that I pen these words to you. More than the usual difficulty, of course.

So he had taken the time to joke with her? The news must be bad, indeed.

But it seems some things are better written, for they prevent me from avoiding what could be an unpleasant truth.

In this, she was very much in sympathy.

I have taken your suggestion, and written to Emily, in hopes of resolving the difficulties in our marriage. After last night, I proved to both of us that I cannot leave the spectre of her between us any longer. And I know that you will understand when I say I have no desire to hurt you, any more than I did my poor wife.

Obviously. Her eyes rushed down the uneven lines on the page.

And know also that I would not have had the nerve to face this, had it not been for the time spent in your arms. It has brought about a change in me. A change for the better.

She smiled, thinking how nice it was that he would say so.

This evening, should my wife desire it, I will return home to face what future there is for me, and you will see me no more. I beg you, my darling, understand that I would not leave you were it my choice. For this time we have spent together has been some of the happiest of my life. The past days with you have been closer to perfection than any man deserves. And thus, I fear, they cannot last.

Your words of love were not unwelcome. And though I wish I could say otherwise, I hold honour too dear to reciprocate them. My first obligation must be to the woman I married, and I can no longer fulfil it from a distance, any more than your husband can for you.

Emily had his duty. Which was all well and good. But love would be better.

If my wife rejects me, which I fear is quite possible, then I will write to you immediately and you will know that my heart has no claim on it. It is yours to command, should you still wish it. Half of it is already yours, and always will be.

But whether we be together or parted, Emily has the other half. And the better portion, for it was the one I gave first.

She stopped reading for a moment, and looked at the other letter, wondering if it was half as sweet. Then she returned to the one in her hand.

If I had known you three years ago, I like to think that things might have been different and that I would be at your side today. But if you have the love for me that you claim to, I pray you, wish me well in this most difficult decision and let me go. I must try to make my Emily happy, just as I wish you all the happiness in the world.

For ever yours, Adrian.

Without thinking, she clutched the paper to her lips and kissed it. Then she tore the seal on the next letter, and read what he had to say to his wife.

It was cautious. Polite. And shorter. And when she got to the line about his being humbled, she almost laughed aloud. Even in humbleness, he was more proud than any two other men.

But his willingness to put her pleasure before his own? She thought of how he had treated her when he took her to bed. He had proven that he could do that so often that it made her blush to think about it.

She kissed the second letter as well. Fondly at first. And then touching her tongue quickly to the paper and thinking of how it would be, tonight, when she came to him in his own bed. A marriage bed. Just as it ought to have been between them all along.

Was this not the best of both worlds? She was his lover, and had half his heart for the asking. And she was his wife as well, and commanded his honour and loyalty, along with the rest of his love. He would be her faithful servant, if she wished to take him back. And though he came to her with head bowed, she would make sure that he lost nothing by it. They would both gain by his homecoming.

Once they got past the surprise he would get on learning her identity.

Emily smiled to herself and dismissed it. Surely that would be as nothing. It would set his mind to rest to realise that the woman he loved and the woman he had married were one and the same.

From his place in front of her, Hendricks cleared his throat, reminding her that she was not alone. ‘Well?’

She smiled up at him. ‘He has chosen me. Me. Emily.’

The man at her side looked confused, as though he did not see a distinction. ‘Was there ever any doubt?’

‘Surprisingly, there was. And now I must go to him, and explain the meaning of his choice, as gently as possible.’

‘I suppose you will expect me to come along in this, to support you when it goes wrong.’ Hendricks was glaring at her. His tone was sharp, as though he had any right to question her activities.

‘I do not expect you to make the explanation for me, if that is what you fear,’ she said back, equally annoyed. ‘It is my husband who leaves you to write his messages for him, not I.’

‘While you have never made me write them, you have had no qualms in making me carry them,’ he reminded her. ‘You have forced me to lie to a man who is not just my employer, but an old friend.’

‘As he forced you to lie to me,’ she said.

‘But he did it in an effort to protect you,’ Hendricks answered. ‘Can you say the same?’

‘What makes you think you can question me on my marriage? After all this time, neither of you has cared to inform me of the truth. If I choose to keep a secret for a matter of days, you have no right to scold me.’

‘I do not do it to scold,’ he said, more softly, ‘but because I know Folbroke and his pride. He will think you did what you did to amuse yourself with his ignorance.’

‘And now, after all this time, I do not know if I care,’ she admitted. ‘If what I have done annoys him? Then it will pay him back for the hurt I suffered, all the time he has been away. When he did not know me, and I told him the truth of our marriage, he did not recognise that, any more than he did me. He thought my husband’s treatment of me was unfair. And he had admitted the same of his treatment to his wife.’

‘Then you must realise that he has suffered as well,’ Hendricks said.

She spread her arms wide, to encompass the problem. ‘And tonight, he will apologise for it. And I will apologize for tricking him. And then the matter will be settled.’

Hendricks laughed. ‘You really think it will be that easy. And have you thought what you will do if he does not forgive you? He might well cast you off for this. And if he does, he will be in far worse shape than you found him in.’

‘It will not come to that,’ she insisted, but suddenly felt a doubt.