Chapter 32 #2
Her choice of bold, rich fabrics only added to her allure—teardrop earbobs of cream with flecks of every shade or iridescent hues accompanying every gown.
Eli reached into his pocket and withdrew the jewelry she’d lost at the card table the night before.
He hadn’t gotten the opportunity to return them to Sam.
Making a mental note to leave them with Lady Cartwright before he departed, Eli made to stuff them back into his pocket for safekeeping, but Ames noticed them first.
“Those are beautiful opals,” he commented, seating himself next to Eli. “My mother never left the house without her opal necklace with matching bracelet. Are they for the collection?” He held a notebook, ready to scribble notes about the earbobs.
Eli shook his head. “No, they belong to a friend. I must return them.”
His only regret was that he would be unable to return them himself.
Sam had made it perfectly clear she had no wish to see him again; his presence as a distraction was no longer required.
Sam pushed further into the warmth of her bed, having only given herself over to sleep as the sun crested on the London skyline. Her eyes could not have been closed more than two hours, at most; her head pounded from hours of sobbing and lack of rest.
Quiet. An entire day spent abed. It was all Sam longed for. Not all she longed for, but the one thing available to her. She’d instructed her lady’s maid not to disturb her until Sam rang for her assistance. Marce would likely sleep late as well after their midnight discussion in her office.
Something had drawn her from the slumber that had finally claimed her.
But what?
She was warm. Her bed plush and comforting. Her room dark as night.
The pounding continued, though it wasn’t in her head.
“Samantha Pengarden!” Jude said sternly on the far side. “Open this door this instant before I call Mr. Curtis to knock the thing down.”
Sam flipped her bedding back, revealing her neat room with the drapes pulled tight. Jude’s bed still resided not far from hers, untouched since she’d married Lord Cartwright and moved out of Craven House. Sam’s eyes ached as they focused in the dark, a sliver of light peeking under her door.
It hadn’t been her brightest idea to throw the bolt on the door before allowing her tears to fall unrestrained after dismissing her maid the previous night.
She slipped her stocking-covered feet over the side of the bed and stood, the cold floor seeping through to her toes as she padded across the room to allow her sister entrance.
Jude entered with a stern frown, her hair loose about her shoulders as if she’d left home in a hurry, not sparing enough time to properly prepare for her day.
“Why are you still in bed?” Jude demanded, grabbing Sam’s arm when she attempted to climb back beneath the covers. “It is almost noon!”
“Noon, that is all?” Sam pulled away and threw herself on the bed. “If only I could sleep another two, possibly three days. I am exhausted.”
“What is the matter with you?” Jude sat on the bed next to her, glancing at her old bed.
“Ever since Hollybrooke, you have acted strangely. I wrote every day while away after the wedding, and not one response came from you. And then, I arrived back in London, and you have yet to visit me at my new home. I barely saw you at the ball the other evening, and then I received a note from you requesting Lord Cartwright and I accompany you to Covent Garden. Only you disappeared with Lord Ridgefeld, and barely spoke when you both returned.” Jude paused, taking a deep breath after her long ramble.
“And now you are staying in bed all day—“
“Stop, Jude,” Sam pleaded, bringing her hands to cover her ears—not that it would block out her sister’s rant completely. “Everything is fine. I am feeling unwell today. That is all.”
“Did you think me ignorant enough to truly think you wanted to attend the play with Simon and me?” She scooted farther onto the bed. “You knew proper decorum dictated we bring Lord Ridgefeld along.”
“So?” Sam was not having this conversation right now. Her headache had returned with a vengeance.
“So…I spoke with Marce,” Jude admitted.
“You conversing with our sister should strike me as odd now that you are a countess, married to a fine lord?”
“Do not think to use that tactic with me, Samantha,” Jude warned. “You know exactly what our sister told me.”
“That I favor a future similar to our mother’s?”
“Sam…”
“What?” She pushed to a sitting position and tucked her legs beneath her long nightshift.
“She told you of the wager in White’s betting book.
A wager, I might add, I knew nothing about.
I am not, nor do I ever plan to be, a harlot.
I will never sell my body for finery or exchange my independence for a fancy townhouse. ”
“That is good to know; however, I never expected you’d do such a thing.” Her sister eyed her in the dim light coming from the open door. “I am here about Lord Ridgefeld.”
“What about him?” Had he told Simon of their quarrel?
“You care for him, do you not?”
Sam had rarely been accomplished enough to lie to her twin. They shared a connection far greater than that of mere blood sisters. They’d shared everything from birth—their clothes, their tutors, their bedchambers, and more than all that, they shared their identical looks. Had shared a womb.
At the moment, Sam saw her inner sorrow and pain reflected in her sister’s identical eyes.
“I do not need to hear your answer.” Jude shook her head. “I know you have feelings for him. I’ve known since Hollybrooke. I suspected that when he arrived in London, you’d continue your companionship.”
“Then why did you bid him leave Hollybrooke?” Sam had wondered, but as her sister had said, she hadn’t spent enough time in Jude’s company to ask.
“Because,” Jude took hold of her sister’s hands and turned to face her directly, “I feared your feelings for him were only inspired by father’s unexpected arrival.
That your affections for Lord Ridgefeld were only to distract yourself from the turmoil you felt over my wedding and Beauchamp’s appearance. ”
Sam could not deny it. “True, my draw to Lord Ridgefeld—Elijah—started as a means to keep my boredom at bay and the thought of losing you a dull pain to be acknowledged at a later time. Also, he helped to keep Lord Gunther from fawning all over me.”
Jude laughed, and Sam gave a weak smile.
“And then, well, I enjoyed his company greatly. We spoke easily.” Sam remembered their time in Cummings’ study…
her naughty thoughts and his flirtatious nature.
“But then when Beauchamp appeared, Elijah was there to talk to. A shoulder to cry on. I could not burden you with everything. It was your special time. You had Simon, and I had no one save Elijah.”
“You could have come to me.” A tear appeared in the corner of Jude’s eye and trickled down her cheek. “I was in pain, too. I was confused. I was hurting. We could have mourned together. At least tell me Lord Ridgefeld was kind and compassionate.”
“He listened to me, allowed me to cry, and told me of his own past—not so different from my own.”
“That is good to hear. If I wasn’t able to be there for you, he was.”
“But then he left Hollybrooke without a word of farewell.”
“I am truly sorry for my part in that,” Jude confessed, pulling Sam close. “It was not my intention to harm you, only give you the opportunity to listen to what Beauchamp had to say…he is our father. Family.”
“You are my family. Marce is my family. Garrett and Payton are my family. Simon is now my family. Beauchamp is not my family.” Sam tried to suppress the anger rising in her.
Jude was not the person she was angry at.
Even Lord Beauchamp was not the target of her fury.
“For our brief time together, I saw Elijah as family.”
“But not any longer?” Jude whispered.
“No.”
“I am sorry to hear that, Sam. Lord Ridgefeld is a good man.”
Pain swelled in Sam’s chest, threatening to double her over from the sharpness of it. “I am sorry, as well.”
“Then I suppose it is best he is departing London.” Jude averted her eyes and busily straightened her skirts on the bed, arranging them about her legs to cover her exposed ankles.
“The townhouse was crowded with him in residence,” Jude mused.
“Entertaining houseguests is a lot of work. His carriage is being loaded now, and he will be off before late afternoon.”
Elijah was leaving London? It shouldn’t surprise her. He did not belong in London. He was an adventurer, an explorer, and a man used to travel.
It would not be long before he found a woman better suited to him and his life, one far more suitable than Sam could ever be.
“If you wish to say your goodbyes,” Jude continued, “he can be found at the museum, finishing his tasks and verifying that everything is prepared for his grandfather’s exhibit.”
“You know I do not favor the museum as you and Simon do.” Sam attempted to keep her voice level, to not betray the remorse and misery threatening to take over.
No, those emotions were better felt alone…
with no witnesses. Every part of her ached to go to Eli.
To tell him that she cared for him, possibly more than he cared for her.
That was what scared her most. What if she gave her heart to him, confessed her love for him, only to have him leave her?
Not today, not tomorrow, but one day, he would leave her.
As her mother and his father had done in death.
As her father and his mother had done by running away.
As Jude had done by falling in love and marrying Simon.
Eventually, Marce and Payton would do the same.
She and Garrett had never been close, but even he would become more distant.
Where would Sam live if Marce married and moved to her husband’s home? Would Craven House be sold? Sam hadn’t the means to care for the property. A future as a spinster, shuffled between the unwelcoming homes of different family members seemed likely for her.
It was that or trust in another person to care for her.
The closest she’d been to allowing another into her life was Elijah, and in the end, she’d pushed him away, too. She’d clung to him for as long as she could before a decision had to be made.
A permanent attachment with confessed feelings of mutual love and devotion…
Or end their association before she had the chance of getting hurt.
But she was already hurting. Saying what she had to push him away the previous night had driven a spike into her own heart. The agony of losing Elijah would not disappear anytime soon.
“I think it is best I go.” Jude stood and shook out her skirts. “I can see you are not feeling well. Do call on me when you are in better health.”
Jude leaned forward and placed a quick kiss on Sam’s cheek.
“Farewell,” Jude called over her shoulder as she left, closing Sam’s door behind her.