Eliza studied the woman, despair and curiosity warring with the irate figure the woman presented. There was no way to refute the woman’s ardent claim, so Eliza settled for the only thing to be said.
“The hem of your cuff has gone off. You’ll need someone to fix that.”
Lady Isley’s whispered curse was more of a guttural moan this time, and without another word, the marchioness turned and marched off. Only it was more of a stumble and hobble as the woman was not at all dressed for sand.
Louisa appeared between them in seconds, Henry collapsing against his mistress’s side. Eliza bent to scratch his head reassuringly.
“It’s all right, boy. She’s just a bully. No real threat.”
“Whatever did she mean telling you to stay away from your husband? What an odd woman.” Louisa straightened her bonnet.
“Did you hear what she said?” Johanna asked, still studying the place where Lady Isley had disappeared up the cliff.
Eliza straightened, following her gaze.
“That she was the one to deserve new gowns and baubles?” Eliza asked, moving her gaze to study the damage Lady Isley had done to her own gown.
Louisa looked between them. “Why would she say that? Isn’t she wed to the Marquess of Isley? Surely he can buy her new gowns.”
Johanna and Eliza shared a look.
“Perhaps he cannot,” Johanna said quietly. “Did you see how her cuff had come undone?”
Eliza nodded. “It looks as though it had been folded under to hide the wear, but it had not been properly pinned.”
Louisa sucked in a breath. “Oh. How unfortunate.”
Eliza felt both of their gazes on her.
“What are you going to do?” Johanna hardly whispered the question.
Eliza straightened her shoulders and pushed her spectacles up her nose.
“I’m going to do the practical thing, of course.”
“Fling mud at her?” Johanna offered with raised eyebrows and a wide smile.
“Spread vicious rumors that she smells of pig dung?” Louisa asked.
Eliza couldn’t help the smile her sisters always brought to her face.
“No, of course, not. I’m going to write Andrew.”
Johanna’s smile melted into a frown. “How is that the practical thing to do?”
Eliza crossed her arms, unknowingly protecting the babe that grew in her stomach.
“Why would a woman I’ve never met make the effort to climb down that cliff and threaten me to stay away from my own husband? What an odd thing to do.”
“She’s crazed with love,” Louisa breathed, her eyes wide as if imaging the entire sordid affair.
“She’s loony off her block,” Johanna suggested.
“Love or madness would not drive one to do something such as that,” Eliza said gesturing to the cliff.
Louisa frowned, and even that expression was endearing on her fresh face. “Then what is?”
Eliza shook her head. “Only money would make someone that irrational. I intend to write Andrew to find out the state of the Marquess of Isley’s affairs.”
Once while at Eton he had been dared to walk the parapet of the rector’s home in a slicing rainstorm. In the nude, of course.
And even then, Dax was less scared than he was now, and all he must do was knock on his wife’s door.
The night was quiet, the house having gone to bed hours before, but the light beneath the connecting door gave him hope his wife was still awake. He’d only seen her and her sisters in passing over the past several days as they went in and out of the manor house, Henry in tow. They’d usually been bubbly with chatter, but his wife had always appeared somewhat removed, as if their chatter hadn’t reached her quite yet.
It pained him to see it. While he knew he was the cause of it, it hurt even more to see her so distanced from her sisters’ company. He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of telling her to extend an invitation to her sisters earlier in the summer. They were close after all and until their nuptials, Eliza had always lived under the same roof as them. It must have been quite an adjustment to leave them.
But earlier in the summer, he’d been too consumed by Eliza’s attentions to realize anything beyond them.
The pain burned hotter in his chest, and he absently rubbed a hand against it to quell it. He knew he was in the wrong here, and worse, he feared the power Bethany had over him. It wasn’t that she was physically irresistible nor did he find her particularly alluring. It was their shared history that had her pulling him in. It was as if by conquering her physically, he could right the wrongs of the past, which had been done to him.
He knew he’d been wrong as soon as his lips had touched hers. By the time he’d thought to push her away, a sour taste had already developed in his mouth, and he was left wanting for his wife.
He had absolutely ruined everything, and the first thing he needed to do was apologize.
Raising a single hand, he gave a sharp knock at the door.
“Eliza, I must speak with you,” he said before she could raise an objection.
“Come in.” The two words were spoken crisply and without hesitation, so much like his practical Eliza it nearly caused him physical pain.
He had the beef he’d squandered from dinner at the ready when he entered and tossed it to Henry before the dog could elicit more than a warning growl. Placated, he laid his head back down as he lounged on the window seat, the night ocean breeze ruffling his fur from the open window.
It would serve him right to find Eliza abed, tucked under the covers with her virginal nightdress buttoned up to her throat, much as she’d been on their wedding night. His body clenched at the sight of her, desire racing through him, and he had to clear his throat several times in order to calm his nerves.
“Hello.” He hadn’t meant to say that, but upon seeing her, more rational thought simply fled.
He was starved for her. It really hadn’t occurred to him until he laid his eyes upon her, until her gaze was focused on him, but even as he yearned toward her, he stopped.
This was not the Eliza he had come to know over the past few months. This was the Eliza he had found on the ballroom floor. Her gaze was cold and alert, her jaw tight as if wary of an ambush. He swallowed again, knowing he’d done this as well. He’d made her climb back into the shell society had made for her.
“Hello,” she said in reply, her voice soft and neutral.
There was a book open on her lap, one hand relaxed against the page as if holding her place. He wanted to sweep the book away and pull her into his arms. He wanted to spend the night pressed up against her, entangled in her heat as he’d spent so many nights that summer.
“I’ve come to apologize.”
She did not react. “Is there cause for an apology?”
He recalled what she had said when she’d left them standing in the drawing room that day. That it was none of her concern. He wondered if she truly believed that.
He took a step closer. “There is. I behaved poorly, and I hurt you.”
“You did no such thing.” She tilted her head as if confused.
While he had anticipated the apology would be difficult to deliver as remorse and regret swamped him, he had not expected how it would irritate him when she so blatantly disregarded her own feelings.