“Then I shall depart,” Lord Avondale replied, inclining his head. “I can come up with a decent excuse, but I should not have you uncomfortable for any reason, Miss Wells. Do forgive me.”
He made to step away but before she could stop herself from doing so, Eliza reached out and grasped his arm.
Heat rippled up her arm and she let go of him at once, her face flaming.
“You need not do that, Lord Avondale,” she replied, throatily. “Please, there is no need. I am in control of myself, truly.”
Lord Avondale considered this for a few moments, before taking a few steps back to where he had first been standing.
“I am sorry,” he said, honestly. “I should have refused Miss Wells’ invitation but I confess that my heart has been burning with longing.”
Eliza closed her eyes and dropped her head. She could not hear this from him, not when her heart began to quicken with both delight and astonishment.
“I have longed to see you again, Eliza,” Lord Avondale continued, her name on his lips sending waves of delight running through her despite her determination to ignore him. “I should not have allowed my own desires to overtake what I know would have been best for you, but I could not help myself.”
Eliza held up one hand. “Please, Lord Avondale,” she whispered, unable to hear any more. “That is quite enough. As I have said, I am already being courted by another.” Her eyes finally lifted to his and, much to her surprise, she saw a faint smile playing about his lips.
“A courtship is not an engagement,” he stated, spreading his hands. “The more I have thought of you, Eliza, the more I have allowed myself to hope. It is foolishness in itself, of course, but it lingers there nonetheless.”
Her breathing was ragged now, waves of heat tumbling over her until Eliza felt she could take no more. “Hope?” she repeated, pressing one hand against the wall so that she might support herself and praying that the dinner bell would soon sound so that she might free herself from this conversation. “What hope is it that you speak of, Lord Avondale?”
Lord Avondale’s smile was soft, his eyes lingering on her gently. “Hope that you might permit me to speak to you about what occurred two years ago,” he said, softly. “Hope that you might, through all the pain and the sadness, find a way to understand. Hope that forgiveness will flood your heart, that you can discover a new sense of peace about the dreadful way I treated you.” He took a step closer and Eliza’s breath caught. “Hope, as foolish as it is, that there might be something between us once more. I swear to you, Eliza, that if I were granted such an opportunity, it would not be squandered. I would not wait a moment to make you mine for the rest of our days.”
Eliza could not lift her eyes from Lord Avondale, aware of what he was offering her and finding that she could not quite take it in. He wanted her to listen to his explanation so that the chance for their joint happiness might once again be a possibility.
“I know you have not forgotten me, as you stated,” Lord Avondale murmured, his breath brushing her cheek and sending her heart into a tormented flurry. “I know that you are not immune to my presence. Oh, Eliza, I have thought of you every day. I have been wed to another and yet my heart and mind have constantly been settled on you. If only you would allow me to explain, then you might be able to see the torment that I have been in. The choice was not mine, Eliza. The choice was not mine. I had to do what was asked of me, no matter the consequences. No matter the cost.”
Eliza shook her head and took a small step out of the alcove, knowing that she could be discovered at any moment and not wanting to have anyone question her for having such an intimate conversation with a gentleman that was not Lord Montrose.
“I – I must greet some of the other guests,” she stammered, not able to look up into Lord Avondale’s eyes any longer. “Do excuse me.”
His hand caught her elbow and she gasped in surprise, turning her head to look at him.
“Will you, at the very least, consider what I have said, Eliza?” Lord Avondale asked, his voice low enough for only her to hear. “Will you let yourself become open to the possibility that you might be able to hear my explanation one day soon?”
Eliza tugged her arm away from him, her heart thundering so furiously that she was certain he could hear it. “I will think on it, Lord Avondale,” she said, before her mind could form any other response. “That is all I can offer you.”
He smiled, a look of utter relief etching itself into his features. Eliza could not help but allow her gaze to rest on him for a moment or two longer, finding in his expression a hint of the Lord Avondale she had once known. He was just as handsome, of course, just as genteel and, of course, quite amiable – but there were lines of grief in his face that she was certain would never dissipate completely. What was it that had torn him apart so terribly? Why had his departure from her not been his own decision? What was it that had forced his hand?
“Your consideration is more than I have ever hoped for, Eliza,” Lord Avondale murmured, as she began to step away. “Thank you.”
* * *
Dinner was a loud and hearty affair, although Eliza found herself growing rather tired of hearing Lord Montrose’s voice. Whether that was because she was aware of Lord Avondale’s gaze settling upon her more often than not, she could not say, but something about the entire evening unsettled her greatly. Lord Montrose had appeared at her side only a few minutes after she had left Lord Avondale and had taken possession of her since then. He was, of course, seated beside her and had seemed to dominate the conversation from almost the moment they had sat down. The other guests appeared quite enamored with him and Eliza had not missed the way that a few of the other ladies looked at him. There were a mixture of guests at the table, although three were unwed and one was a rich but young widow. Lord Montrose seemed to revel in the attentions they gave him and continued to delight them with stories, jokes and other such things that had them all laughing and smiling at him. Eliza, however, felt entirely out of place, barely able to raise a smile at anything Lord Montrose said.
What was worse, as the meal progressed and the wine refreshed, Lord Montrose appeared to become more and more at ease, eventually making one or two ribald comments that brought a flush to her cheeks, although Eliza noticed that the young widow, Lady Barclay, blushed furiously but did not remove her gaze from Lord Montrose. Her eyes seemed to glow as she continued to regard Lord Montrose, a small smile lifting one corner of her mouth.
Eliza felt nauseous, hating that Lord Montrose was behaving so and that so many of the guests seemed to find his company so desirous when she herself found it both embarrassing and unwelcome.
And all the while, Lord Avondale had watched her steadily, barely lifting his eyes from her face. She could feel his attentions, wondering what he thought of Lord Montrose and praying that her embarrassment was not too apparent. It was almost impossible not to compare the two gentlemen, for Eliza knew that Lord Avondale would never have behaved as Lord Montrose did, for he had always been polite and charming, never allowing any bawdiness into either his words or his speech. When they had been courting, he had always treated her with a great deal of respect and consideration, and even more so when they had been in company. The difference between the two gentlemen was almost breath-taking, forcing Eliza to drag in air as she settled her h
ands in her lap, her desire to eat gone completely.
This state of unsettledness continued for the remainder of the dinner, until, finally, the gentlemen were left to their port and the ladies were allowed to rise.
“There shall be tea set out for us in the drawing room,” Lady Whitehaven said, a smile on her face as she spoke to the guests. “Gentlemen, I leave you in the safe hands of Lord Montrose, who shall bring you through to us all again very soon, I am quite certain.”
Eliza blushed furiously at this obvious gesture of intimacy, seeing the knowing glances that flickered from one face to the next. She stepped away from the table, finding it hard to get her breath, the air feeling thick and her skin clammy.