The room was dim and very quiet. She could hear herself breathing. In fact, she could hear the breathing of the other two men also, before Orlando gripped her hand murmuring, “Such a very great shock, Eliza. I don’t know what you must be feeling.”
Before Eliza could respond, he swung around to Mr Patmore, his expression tortured and intense. “Eliza and I knew one another, well, many years ago, perhaps you weren’t aware. I left the country suddenly because…” He touched the scar on his cheek, and the words he’d not yet said caused Eliza to cover her eyes with her hands.
Orlando sank down onto his knees at her side, though he raised his face to Mr Patmore. In a low voice, he explained. “I left the country after a duel which left Eliza’s brother dead.”
Eliza struggled to sit up. “Edmund tried to kill you! It was not your fault he died because of his own stupidity!” His image was blurred through her tears as she looked at the beautiful mouth she’d kissed so many times in her youth. And though her heart ached, it was not through the pain of still loving him, but of what might have been had the lonely years not turned her longing into confusion tinged with resentment. “You didn’t have to leave!”
All those withered hopes and dried-up dreams coupled with the seven years of puni
shment, made all the more excruciating by the knowledge she was again giving up the chance of love with the other gentleman staring down at her, that kind, honourable, noble Mr Patmore, broke the dam waters and for once Eliza’s self containment deserted her.
She began to sob.
And she could not stop.
All she could do was wave one hand in dismissal and say through her tears, “Please leave me, gentlemen. At least until I am myself once more.”
Shaken, Rufus returned to the company they’d recently left. The Brightwell sisters, both looking far more subdued than usual, swept over to the two men.
“We had no wish to cause Miss Montrose such distress,” said Lady Fenton, before her sister turned an accusing look upon Mr Perceval.
“I was assured you weren’t married, Mr Perceval, else I’d not have considered opening up old wounds. That is the reason she fainted, is it not? Because she couldn’t bear the idea that you had returned, yet remained as ever beyond her reach for tragic reasons beyond our understanding. My apologies, Mr Patmore.”
Rufus blinked as Mr Perceval focused a level stare upon him. “You are…courting Miss Montrose?” He watched Lady Fenton slip away in order to usher her husband, Mr Bramley, and the theatrical fellow whose name escaped him, into the dining room.
Lady Quamby offered them a beseeching look as she answered for Rufus. “In a manner of speaking, but when she seemed so reluctant, I delved into the past a little and discovered…well, you, Mr Perceval.”
“Me?” He sounded surprised. Rufus, meanwhile, was feeling like a deflated hot-air balloon. For seven years, Miss Montrose had carried a flame for a thwarted love affair that made her incapable of loving anyone else. It was, he supposed, the reason she was prepared to marry Mr Bramley, rather than himself, since it ensured loyalty of the heart was never going to be an issue. Clearly, thought Rufus, bitterly, Miss Montrose liked him. Just not enough to want to marry him.
“We learned that you spent a summer living in her father’s house,” said Lady Quamby, as her sister joined her side.
“My father was acquainted with Mr Montrose, and I traded on that friendship to lodge with the Montroses while I waited for my inheritance to come through. An uncle had left me a plantation in the East Indies.”
Lady Quamby let out a plaintive sigh. “And you fell in love?”
Mr Perceval gave a slight inclination of his head.
“But then you duelled with the brother and killed him.” Rufus realised he sounded more aggressive than he meant, but by God, this was the man standing between him and the woman he loved. And Perceval had wronged Eliza grievously. Yes, Rufus wanted to marry Eliza himself, but that was because he wanted to make her happy.
Lady Fenton said sharply to her sister, “You asked how Mr Perceval received his scar, Antoinette. What an inopportune moment to make such an enquiry when they had only just been reunited.” Then, to Mr Perceval, “And you received the scar in a contest which killed Miss Montrose’s brother?”
Mr Perceval raised a hand. “It was self-defence. He lunged at me with a rapier when I was unarmed. Somehow, in the fray, Edmund died. Shortly afterwards, I left the country. It was considered death by misadventure, though Eliza’s family never forgave me.”
“And that’s why you couldn’t marry her.” Rufus nodded, as understanding dawned. Perhaps the brother had taken exception to Mr Perceval as a suitor for his sister, then after the young man’s death, Eliza had borne the opprobrium of her family forever, and she’d been banished to live with her aunt.
Mr Perceval shifted uncomfortably. “I was already married.”
Rufus looked at him with suspicion. “Miss Montrose didn’t know?”
He shook his head. “She learned it after her brother’s death. It was wrong of me, and I accept that she considered I was courting her.” He shrugged. “But she was very young. Too young. It’s the reason I never sought her out afterwards. After I’d left her home. I had nothing to offer her.”
“But you said you married three months ago, Mr Perceval.”
“That’s right. My first wife was confined to an insane asylum for many years before she died. I became a widower a little over a year ago.” His nostrils flared. “When Mr Canning befriended me at Whites and invited me to a weekend house party, I had no idea I would see Miss Montrose again. I learned she was one of the guests only as we were on the final stretch and passing through the village High Street and, after being talked out of turning tail and fleeing, I decided it would be my moment to atone. Only, I fear I’ve only made matters worse for her by stirring up the past. I’d hoped to find her happily married.”
Lady Quamby appeared determined to make the best of matters. She pushed back her shoulders, raised her beautiful head so that her baby-blue eyes sparkled directly at Rufus and said, “That is what we hope shall come to pass before too long.” Raising her glass, which had just been refilled by one of the footmen, she declared, “This tragic tale of lost love shall have a happy ending under this roof. You have found your heart’s desire, Mr Perceval. Now, Miss Montrose can see that she is free at last to follow her heart without any guilt associated with such long-distant dramas.”
Rufus only wished he shared her enthusiasm.