Goodness, she had been even more beautiful than he remembered. She was strong and determined, resilient and unafraid. But, worst of all, apparently already being courted by another.
Groaning, Jeremy shoved his head into his hands, his heart aching with frustration and regret. What had he expected? Had he truly thought that Eliza would continue to wait for him, for years and years, until somehow his marriage had been brought to an end? That was more than foolish, especially given just how poorly he had treated her, giving her no explanation for his departure. To lose his wife had been truly terrible, but to lose his wife and the woman he loved was more torturous than anything he had ever known before.
The carriage door opened and Jeremy was forced to leave his dark thoughts for a moment, stepping out into the warm London air that the Season brought. This year, the year 1815, was meant to be one filled with hope. Napoleon, it seemed, was on the cusp of defeat and with that defeat would come an end to the war. There would be a peace that had been absent for some time, an end to the fighting and the brutality. Those in London seemed delighted with such news, bringing a fresh joy to their hearts as they waited expectantly – and yet Jeremy felt nothing of the sort within himself. Yes, he would be glad to know of the war’s end and the fighting that went with it, but it would do nothing to soothe the agony within his own heart. He did not know what would do so, other than simply allowing the passage of time to numb him somewhat.
“Lord Avondale.”
Jeremy looked up to see his butler inclining his head, his hand outstretched to take Jeremy’s hat and gloves.
“You have a visitor, my lord.”
“Oh?” For a moment, Jeremy was filled with the bright hope that Eliza had decided to set her anger aside and had come to talk with him about what had occurred, only to realize just how foolish an idea that was.
“Lord Northgate is waiting for you in the study, my lord.”
Jeremy hesitated, thundering memories crashing into him. The last time he had seen Lord Northgate had been some months ago, at the funeral of Jeremy’s wife.
“Should I have a tray sent up, my lord?”
Dragging himself back to the present and sending up a silent prayer for courage, Jeremy nodded and walked quickly towards the study, pushing open the door without even pausing to catch his breath.
Lord Northgate unfolded himself from the chair and rose to greet him, having been sitting by the fire that had obviously been stoked for him. He was a tall, thin man who always gave the impression of being rather cold. Little wonder, then, that the staff had tried to ensure that the room was warm!
“Northgate,” Jeremy murmured, shaking Northgate’s hand and finding himself somewhat surprised by the sheer amount of strength that came from what appeared to be so thin and gaunt a person. Lord Northgate had a long, thin nose, small grey eyes and a thatch of white hair that seemed to float a little above his head. Jeremy did not know him a good deal, but then that came with having a large, extended family. The Earl of Northgate was his uncle, eldest brother to Jeremy’s late mother.
“I do hope you do not mind my calling upon you here,” Lord Northgate began, as Jeremy waved him back into his seat. “I know that it is entirely unexpected and perhaps a little untoward to have my calling upon you without writing to you first, but I did not expect to see you in town.”
“It is quite all right,” Jeremy reassured him. “I am more than glad to see you, Northgate. Are you here for Beatrice?”
Beatrice was the third and last of Lord Northgate’s children, who, having been out last Season, had been required to wait until her period of mourning was at an end. Now, of course, she could grasp a hold of the Season with both hands.
“Indeed,” Lord Northgate sighed, a small smile playing about his mouth. “My dear girl is doing her very best, of course, to be as entirely proper as she can be, without losing any of her elegance and poise.” His smile became sad. “She is determined not to do as Rebecca did.”
Jeremy’s heart dropped to the floor. “I know that the Season may bring its own fears to her heart,” he replied, softly. “I can well understand her worries and her determination, but I am quite certain she will not be pulled into anything similar.”
Lord Northgate nodded, a sigh escaping him. “I can return home once Beatrice is settled,” he stated, shrugging, as Jeremy got up to pour them both a small measure of the finest brandy. “Harrington is, as you know, already married and his wife will soon enter her confinement.”
Jeremy looked up in surprise, hearing Lord Northgate speak of his eldest son and heir to the title. “Is that so?”
“Indeed,” Lord Northgate replied, smiling. “We are praying it is a boy, of course.”
“Of course,” Jeremy agreed, waving in the footman as a tray was brought in. “But if it is not, I have heard that daughters can be most agreeable.”
Lord Northgate did not say anything in response, not until the footman had left and the door was closed tightly.
“Might I ask, Avondale, whether you are in London for any particular reason?”
Jeremy sat down opposite his uncle and shrugged. He did not want to speak of Eliza but knew that there was no reason to hide the truth from his uncle. “Miss Wells is also in London.”
A flicker of sympathy crossed Lord Northgate’s face. “I see,” he said, slowly. “And might I ask how your meeting went?”
A harsh laugh ripped from Jeremy’s throat, and he shook his head. “She is not willing to speak to me.”
Lord Northgate looked entirely sympathetic. “As I can understand. I am truly sorry, Avondale, for what was asked of you.”
Jeremy closed his eyes and took in a long breath, memories swarming around him. He could still recall the day that his uncle had appeared at Jeremy’s estate, breathless and grey faced.
That had been the day that Jeremy’s entire world had gone awry. Lord Northgate had told him that his daughter, Rebecca, had found herself in trouble. She was, it seemed, with child. The girl had refused to say anything about who had done such a thing to her, but Lord Northgate had been desperate to find a way to hide his daughter’s shame as best he could.