Chapter 16 A Small Conspiracy
A Small Conspiracy
Lizzie awoke, aware of the sunlight pouring into her bedroom.
She wondered how she had overslept, and when she turned sleepily onto her side, her entire body ached, especially the muscles in her thighs.
She felt as if she had marched mile after mile, like a soldier.
In that instant, Lizzie recalled every moment of the night before and she was wide awake.
She was Tyrell’s mistress now.
Tyrell had made love to her. Once it had been the dream of her life. Now, with the elation, there was some shame. Lizzie wished she could forget about Blanche, but it was impossible.
Blanche did not love Tyrell and she did. However, that rationalization felt absurd.
Still, Tyrell had backed her into a corner, and unless she left Ned, there was no way to deny him.
But now her secret was safe. She was Tyrell’s mistress, and he would never take Ned away from her.
Finally, relief began. Lizzie thought about all of their lovemaking.
At times his kisses had been incredibly tender, at other times dark, demanding and hard.
Lizzie was almost certain that he harbored some affection for her.
She finally realized that she was alone and she jerked to sit up, staring at the empty place where he had been, dismayed that he was gone. Then she felt eyes upon her.
Lizzie tensed, looking past the foot of the bed. Tyrell was seated in a chair not far from the hearth, fully dressed. His legs were crossed and he was staring at her very intently, his gaze beyond steady, beyond unwavering. He did not move.
She was mildly alarmed. His expression was so dispassionate and he was so still that he could have been a wax impression of himself. What did that mean? “Good morning,” she said, sending him a small, uncertain smile. Realizing her state of undress, she pulled the sheets up to her neck.
His gaze flickered. “Good morning. You do not need to cover yourself or behave modestly with me. I enjoy looking at you.”
Lizzie flushed with pleasure, absolutely thrilled with his praise and barely able to believe he meant it. Then her elation dulled. He still refused to smile, yet he was not angry, either, so what was this? Had she disappointed him in some way? “It is the broad light of day.”
“Yes, it is,” he agreed.
She hesitated. “Are you displeased with me, my lord?”
Finally, his mouth seemed to move, although he did not smile yet. “No. No, I am hardly displeased.” His face seemed to tense, his jaw flexed. “How are you this morning?”
She started in surprise. Was he worried about her? “Quite well, my lord, and I do think you must know why.” She felt herself blush and she glanced at her toes. How could she be so bold?
He slowly got to his feet. She sat very still as he approached the bed. “Are you not well, my lord?” she asked carefully. Hadn’t he enjoyed their passion, too?
His face tightened. “If you are asking me if I have enjoyed being in your bed, I think the answer is obvious.”
She had not a clue as to what he meant.
He softened and touched her cheek briefly. “You are the most passionate woman I have ever met. I meant it when I said we were well matched, you and I.”
She tried to breathe. “And that means?”
“It means I enjoyed myself immensely—perhaps too much.” His stare was dark. “Did I hurt you?” he asked bluntly.
She was surprised. “Of course not.”
“I am asking for the truth, Elizabeth.” He hesitated. “As I noticed, you had not been with a man in a very long time. Your body did not easily accept mine.”
“Last night was wonderful, my lord! I have no regrets!” She could have amended that last statement, of course. Blanche loomed between them again.
“I am afraid that I do,” he said flatly.
She was in disbelief. “You regret last night?”
His face appeared in danger of cracking. “I have always prided myself on being not just a gentleman, but a considerate one, as well. I was hardly considerate of you last night. In fact, I was extremely selfish. I owe you an apology, Elizabeth, if you will accept it.”
She gaped. “You owe me no such thing! I am fine, and you were more than considerate—you were so tender, so kind!”
He remained standing very stiffly at attention. “I would never hurt you,” he said. “Not with any purpose.”
“It was inevitable, was it not?” Lizzie whispered, because she was thinking about her virginity. She immediately blushed and wished she had not said that.
Grimly he looked away.
Lizzie got to her feet, taking the sheet with her. “My lord…As we said, it has been some time. But I am fine, really and—”
He faced her now. “You should have told me,” he said softly, even dangerously. “And I would have been prepared to woo you far more slowly than I did.”
Lizzie did not know what to say.
He cleared his throat. “I have decided to go to Wicklowe alone.”
“Alone?” Dismay and disbelief assailed her.
“As I have already shown you, I am a man of extreme appetites, at least where you are concerned. Frankly, my self-control is seriously lacking and I do not trust myself. You need some rest. You will stay here and in a week or so I will send for you and the boy.”
“No,” Lizzie said flatly. She hardly knew how much time she had to be with him, but sooner or later, it would run out.
“No? You refute my wishes?” He was incredulous.
“Yes,” she said fiercely. “I am coming with you as we planned.”
Unexpectedly, he smiled. “You are very bold, Elizabeth. Come here.”
“What?”
He pulled her into his arms. “I am not coming to your bed tonight,” he whispered, looking deeply into her eyes.
Her heart, already racing, sped impossibly faster.
She found herself smiling at him, aware of the inescapable fact that he was aroused.
The future no longer seemed worrisome or pressing.
In fact, it now escaped her mind completely.
“But you seem to be in need of my bed right now, my lord. Are you sure you will not change your mind?”
His smile vanished. “I need you,” he said frankly, “and not the way it has thus far been. My blood is raging, Elizabeth, it is raging.”
She went still. She understood his meaning. He wanted her without having to exercise any caution or restraint. Imagining what it would be like, she was exhilarated. With her body already aroused to a feverish pitch, she wondered how she might seduce him into her bed—right there, right then.
“My blood is raging for you,” he said, releasing her and stepping back. And as if he understood, he gave her a wary look.
“I am glad,” she said, meaning it with all of her heart. “My lord?” she began softly.
“No!”
Her cheeks felt hot. “Then we will wait.”
“Yes, we will.” He smiled tightly then. “Already you rule the day.” He bowed. “We will leave in the late afternoon. It is a twelve-hour trip to Wicklowe—we spend the night at an inn. Until then.”
As it was hardly noon and the day was already a glorious one, with just a few cotton candy clouds drifting in a vivid blue sky, Lizzie settled herself and Ned outside in the gardens on a large wool blanket.
Ned was busy with his toys and Lizzie grasped her knees, pulling them to her chest, hugging herself and unable to keep from smiling.
Maybe Tyrell was right. He had promised her that she would not be displeased with their arrangement, and in that moment, she was not.
“Lizzie! Lizzie!”
Lizzie turned, delighted to hear Georgie’s voice.
Instantly she became alarmed, for Georgie was practically running, as if something were very wrong.
Lizzie stood, barefoot and without stockings, as Georgie reached her.
She took one look at her sister’s pale face and pink nose and thought she had been crying. Georgie never wept.
“Is it Mama?”
“No—yes!” Georgie cried. “She has said she will disown me if I refuse to marry Peter! Last night he spoke with Papa and set a date for mid-August!”
Lizzie put her arm around her. Georgie was trembling. “What did you say?”
“I kept a smile on my face until that odious toad left. Then I realized that I cannot marry that man. I have been fooling myself to think so. I told Mama and Papa that I would prefer to enter a convent than marry him, and I meant it!”
“You are not Catholic,” Lizzie remarked.
“Papa pointed that out—I told him I would convert. And that was when Mama began to have a heart attack. She rushed to lie down, complaining of pains in her chest, all the while bemoaning having such a willfull daughter as myself!”
“Is she all right?” Lizzie gasped, worried.
Georgie sent her a disgusted look. “I am now convinced that Mama is as fit as any of us. These attacks of hers, these spells of swooning, they are theatrics, Lizzie, to get us to bend to her will.
“And of course, having an attack was not enough,” Georgie continued.
“She pointed out your unfortunate situation and made it clear she would die—die—if I disgraced the family any further. And Papa took her side. Until your downfall, Lizzie, he was most sympathetic as far as Peter is concerned. Now he sides with Mama. He is afraid of further disgrace.”
Lizzie was ashamed of herself. She had been happy—not perfectly so, but she was most definitely in love—when she was the cause of her family’s ruined reputation. “This is my fault, isn’t it?”
“No, it is Anna’s fault. Here we are, suffering because of her utter lack of morals, while she lives in wedded bliss with her handsome husband.” Georgie cried furiously.
Some ancient anger sparked in Lizzie’s breast. It was unfair that she and Georgie were suffering so, while Anna had the perfect marriage and the perfect life.
“Anna never meant for either of us to suffer because of her one mistake.” She spoke very quietly now, refusing to succumb to self-pity or untoward and unkind accusations against her sister.
“I doubt it was her one mistake,” Georgie said bitterly.
Lizzie stiffened. “What does that mean?” she asked carefully. Did Georgie know the truth about Anna’s philandering?