Chapter 17 #2
“That cannot be,” Sam argued in a hushed tone. “We are seated next to one another at the feast, and he has business to conduct with Simon and Lord Cummings.”
“Business was completed, obviously, as I witnessed Ridgefeld, his valet in tow, leaving Hollybrooke before many guests had risen from their beds.” Garrett looked at her from the corner of his eye, one brow raised.
“As to the seating arrangement, I cannot say, but maybe his plans were changed without word reaching Marce. She will likely be a little peeved to have an empty seat at the table. It should be comical to watch her scramble to have the place setting removed and seats shifted at the last minute.”
Garrett’s continued monologue blended in with the sound of the vicar speaking to the guests. Speaking of Jude and Cart’s unlikely meeting, their commitment, mutual love for one another—and their plans for the future.
None of it penetrated the haze that had settled around Sam.
Elijah had left Hollybrooke without so much as a farewell to her.
“He must be returning before nightfall.” Sam wasn’t sure why she felt the need to rebuff Garrett or what he’d claimed to see. “Mayhap a day trip into town for business.”
“Don’t think so, dear sister.”
Their bickering garnered them a loud “Shhh” from Lady Chastain—Ellington—who sat directly behind them.
“How can you be so certain?” she leaned close to whisper as Simon and Jude turned to face one another, clasping hands.
“They loaded his trunk, and the servants changed out his bedding. His room was across the hall from mine,” he offered.
Cheers sounded around her as guests stood, clapping and chanting their good tidings to Lord Cartwright and the new Lady Cartwright. Her sister…a countess.
But all Sam could hear was the tearing of her heart as it was ripped piece by piece from her chest. She didn’t want it to be true. She longed for Garrett to be mistaken.
Lord Ridgefeld, Elijah, would not depart Hollybrooke in such a manner, without a proper goodbye. Or at least a note of explanation for his hasty departure.
He’d made her a promise.
Sam pressed her lips together to stop any further denial.
It would only serve to make her appear senseless and dimwitted.
Of all people, Elijah was aware of the amount of scorn, disgust, and anger she held for her father, the first man to leave her without a backwards glance.
To continue on with his life as if she and Jude were little more than a wrong turn taken, though his path was quickly righted and his course set as if he’d never embarked on the detour at all.
The inconvenience of two daughters, forgotten.
Had she been an inconvenience to Eli? Had he departed only to forget her before he reached the nearest town?
Guests milled about around Sam, congratulating the newlywed couple, offering advice on a successful marriage, and expressing appreciation for the feast to come.
People laughed with good cheer. Sam only longed to cry in despair.
People moved about. Sam could not bring herself to stand.
People spoke of good tidings to come. Sam’s voice was lodged in her dry throat.
As the day progressed, the guests ate until they were full and moved inside as evening fell. A night of dancing and cards had been planned in honor of the newly joined Lord and Lady Cartwright.
It was all a blur around her. Sam suddenly found herself standing against the wall bordering the dance floor with no recollection of how she’d come to be dressed in her evening gown of midnight blue silk, though the hue perfectly matched her mood.
Her neck tight and her hands clutched mercilessly before her, she searched the room once more, as the final strings of denial fled her, leaving her shoulders sagging.
Lord Ridgefeld had truly departed Hollybrooke Manor, and he was not to return.
Her chin trembled, and she sniffed to keep her sob at bay and her tears where they belonged…unshed.
Certainly, she’d been mistaken about Elijah and his character.
He was not the white knight who’d rescued her from the storm.
He was not the kind gentleman who’d allowed her to cry on his shoulder.
He was not the empathetic man who’d told her of his own heartbreak at his parents’ hands.
He was the marquis who’d inspired a deep passion within her, but without the rest, Sam knew her desire for him would wane with time.
Even now, she sensed her heart hardening to him—any thought of the man, in fact.
Elijah, the Marquis of Ridgefeld, was no better than Sam’s scoundrel of a father.
“Mathers!” Eli pounded on the side of the coach. “Stop the conveyance. I am in need of air.”
It was a bit of an understatement—in need of air.
Elijah needed far more than air to turn is life right-side up once more.
He desired Samantha Pengarden…at his side and in his home, forevermore.
Had this been the affliction his father had faced when meeting his mother?
He’d given so much thought to Alice Watson, and rarely thought of the man he’d only known through the musings of his grandfather.
The coach rumbled to a stop only three short hours after departing Hollybrooke. That time was all Eli could spend locked in the conveyance alone, with only this thoughts—filled with remorse and regret—as company.
He’d stood outside Sam’s bed chamber door for as long as possible before guests began stirring and preparing for the late morning wedding in the gardens.
He’d flipped through the thin volume he’d taken from Cummings’ private study.
He’d debated returning the book to her, allowing her to gain the knowledge he could never share with her, but that she so desperately longed to know.
He could not do this to himself. He’d made the correct decision. The only decision that would benefit everyone involved.
“My lord?” Mathers asked, opening the door wide.
Eli jumped from the confines of the conveyance, happy to do away with the restrictions imposed by the enclosed coach.
“Shall we turn about and start back to Hollybrooke?” Mathers’ brow rose in question, and a spot of hopefulness shone in his tone. “We can arrive before the meal is served—“
“No.” Eli slashed his hand through the space between them before pivoting to pace alongside the road. “Give me a few moments, and we will continue on our way.”
“Very well.” Mathers averted his glare before climbing back up onto his perch and taking the reins in hand to await Eli’s next command.
Blast it all, but Eli hadn’t meant to be harsh with his servant.
The man was loyal to a fault, and one of the few men Eli considered a friend despite the fact that he paid Mathers’ salary.
It was something Mathers rarely forgot and because of it, he made himself available to Eli but rarely spoke of himself.
Eli turned and strode to stand below Mathers’ perch.
“My apologies.” When his valet—and occasional carriage driver—only nodded but refused to meet Eli’s eyes, he climbed up next to the man, rubbing his open palms down his face.
“I did not mean to speak harshly. My troubles are my own, and I know this.”
“May I speak freely, my lord?” The man’s hands tightened on the reins, his knuckles turning white with strain.
“Of course,” Eli sighed.
“I do not believe you wanted to leave Hollybrooke,” Mathers confided.
“No, I did not.” Truly, he hadn’t wanted to leave Sam and whatever the draw between them was. “Originally, I came to Derbyshire to escape the strain from Grandfather’s passing and the regret of failing to bring my mother home. Unfortunately, my troubles followed me here.”
In truth, he hadn’t gained the courage to knock on Sam’s door that morning and return the books because he knew it was a selfish act.
Eli had wanted to see her one final time before he departed, though he knew full well he would never confess to her that he was leaving Hollybrooke.
So, instead, Eli had discovered where Cummings had hidden his treasures, slipped the book back into its hidden spot, and fled.
It made him no more honorable than his mother, who’d snuck out of Liverpool during the dead of night. At least she’d left a note for Grandfather. Eli hadn’t so much as grown the nerve to do that.
Mathers flicked the reins, and the coach started once more.
Elijah settled in, enjoying the feel of the fresh breeze against his face, though it did nothing to clear the muddle of concerns he carried with him.
He freely admitted his family had a tendency to flee—disguised as travel or exploration trips—to run away from the things that haunted them.
His grandfather had initially sought out adventure after his wife died, not thinking the impact it would have on his son and grandson.
His own father had taken on far more risky exploits after learning of his wife’s pregnancy and expelling her back to England.
And his mother had fled England altogether as soon as it was possible.
Elijah’s father’s death was too much for her to handle.
Having to care for an infant was entirely out of the question.
Fleeing Liverpool had been a way to escape anything and everything that reminded Eli of his failures and the things—people—he would never have back in his life.
And now, he’d bolted from Hollybrooke for similar purposes.
He could never possess Sam, had no right to set his sights on her; and everyone—including her family—had deduced as much.
Even before Elijah had come to the realization.
The cycle continued. Eli was helpless to change his course.
“Miss Samantha is a rare thing of beauty,” Mathers said, glancing at Eli from the corner of his eye.
But Elijah would not allow his true feelings for the woman to escape him. It was too late for that.
“Truly enchanting.” Bloody hell, he hadn’t meant to speak the words aloud.
“I agree, my lord.” His servant wisely kept his gaze trained on the road before them, but he was unable to hide his smirk.
No matter how much Elijah wished to debunk his previous mindless uttering, it would be an outright lie to say he found the woman anything other than what he’d said: enchanting.
They barely knew one another, but there was something there. Something that pulled him to Sam. Gave him no other option than to be near her, listen to her every word, and pray that it continued.
It was the most convincing reason why he needed to leave Derbyshire. Cartwright had spoken the truth: Sam should be allowed the time and opportunity to know her father. But it had been the immense draw Elijah had felt to her that had influenced him to heed Cartwright’s warning.
What if Samantha’s feelings for him were only what they were because of the strain placed upon her by Beauchamp?
Elijah could not live knowing he’d come to care for—be connected to—a woman who did not share the same affection.
“When do you suppose we will arrive home, Mathers?” Elijah shouted over the din of the carriage wheels and galloping horses.