Chapter Seventeen
At some point, she must have dozed off, for when Juliana awoke with a start the next morning, faint grey London light showed from behind the bedchamber curtains.
And Rafe was no longer in bed beside her.
As that realization crystallized, her dread deepened.
Only a handful of times, when they were at Thornthwaite and he had to meet Sterling very early in the morning, had he left their bed without making love to her.
Indeed, he always told her, as they lay in the pleasant warmth afterwards, that early morning intimacy was the best possible start to his day, making him feel optimistic and full of energy to meet whatever the day might bring.
Juliana felt a hollow in the pit of her stomach about what this day might bring.
But if she wanted to replace dread with certainty, she needed to see him before he left for whatever appointments he had for the day—which, had she not feigned sleep when he returned, she might already know about.
She was already half-dressed when Baxter answered her summons.
‘Is his lordship still in the breakfast room?’
‘I believe so, my lady.’
Relieved, Juliana rushed through her toilet in record time, and ten minutes later, breathless from her rapid descent of the stairs, paused on the threshold.
Her first sense of relief since the events of the previous evening steadied her as she spied Rafe still at table, the paper to one side as he drank his coffee.
‘Juliana!’ he said, standing as she entered. ‘I didn’t want to wake you. I hope you are feeling better.’
Was his smile a bit strained? Trying not to let anxiety make her see things that weren’t there, she said, ‘Much improved. It was just…a sudden headache.’ Heartache, more like. ‘All the noise, the heat, the…throng of guests.’ One in particular…
‘I’m so glad you are feeling better. I was concerned, for you are never ill! You didn’t encounter anyone who was…unkind or unwelcoming, did you?’
I didn’t encounter her. ‘No, nothing of that sort.’
‘Good, good,’ he said, pulling out a chair for her.
Silence fell while she put some food on her plate that she knew she’d never manage to get past her lips. ‘Did you stay long after I left?’
‘No, I left as soon as I discovered you’d felt unwell.’
‘Did your Parliamentary discussions go well?’
‘Some were quite thought-provoking. I actually slipped away to the library for a while, to think over several factors in one of the upcoming bills. Which is why Claire didn’t find me to let me know you were ill and wished to leave. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to take care of you.’
‘Anyone else bedevilling you aside from Winston and Claiburn?’
His smile was thin and he looked away, not meeting her eyes. ‘Don’t worry. I can handle them. I’m sorry to rush off when we’ve hardly had time to chat properly, but I’ve got an early-morning meeting. I hope you have a pleasant day.’
He rose, dropped a kiss on her head, and walked quickly out of the room.
Juliana stared at her coffee cup, pushing away with revulsion the plate of food she’d selected. She knew if she tried to force it down, she wouldn’t retain a morsel.
Rafe waited for the hackney, chastising himself for having wasted that opportunity for a conversation.
He’d had every intention of bringing up his meeting with Thalia; he’d have to soon in any event, as dozens of people had seen them together, some of whom might remember the long-ago affair, and he didn’t want someone else telling Juliana about the encounter before he did.
But he wasn’t feeling much more settled this morning than he’d been last night and had thought he would escape the house before Juliana was awake.
Not yet prepared, he knew if they had more than a brief conversation, Juliana would sense something had upset him.
Seeing her dear face, knowing how insecure she was in her appeal as a woman, he worried that broaching the matter before he was completely in control of himself would distress her, perhaps even make her doubt the depth of his commitment to her, even if he produced a fine speech of support.
She was too well aware that words and promises are easy.
He’d have that conversation tonight. He’d be master of himself again by then.
But his visit to the club dragged out late, as he met some army comrades newly returned from the Continent and had been eager to hear the latest news.
Caught up in discussion and camaraderie, he’d lost all track of time.
By the time the gentleman began discussing plans for dinner and he looked at the clock, he had only time to rush back to Thornthwaite House and dress for his evening engagement—which was a dinner party of Parliamentary gentlemen to be followed by actual discussions about the matters he’d referred to with Juliana yesterday.
He had only a few minutes to look in on Juliana in her dressing room; she and Claire were to attend a musicale while he and Hart attended the conference.
‘So sorry to abandon you all day, Mouse! Some officers from the Tenth Hussars showed up at the club and we became so embroiled in army talk, I lost all track of time. I shall make it up to you, I promise! You and Claire will doubtless enjoy the music more than Hart and I will all the endless discussions. It always seems the most tedious of the members wants to speak the longest.’
He leaned down to give her a lingering kiss. ‘Enjoy your evening, my dear.’
‘Enjoy yours, as best you can,’ she replied. He was conscious of her staring after him thoughtfully as he walked out of the room.
Later that evening at the Hazleden townhouse, Rafe had greeted his host, Lord Hazelden, and was chatting with Hart when the butler announced dinner. He strolled into the dining room, only to stop short on the threshold.
Several ladies were present, already seated. His host’s wife—and Lady Altorn.
‘I thought this was to be a masculine affair,’ he murmured to Hart.
Following the direction of Rafe’s gaze, Hart stiffened. ‘Sorry. I didn’t know she would be here, or I would have warned you.
Lady Hazleden is very interested in governmental affairs; I think she fancies herself another Lady Holland.
At any rate, she often invites several other like-minded wives to join the group for dinner before the gentlemen go off for their discussions.
Don’t worry; the ladies will take themselves off after tea, before we begin. ’
Fortunately, Lady Altorn was seated at the other end of the table, next to their host, and Rafe was favoured with other gentlemen as dinner partners.
Which allowed him to focus on chatting about aspects of the matters that would be discussed afterwards—though he remained acutely conscious of Lady Altorn’s presence and couldn’t help noting she took the opportunity to send him several searching glances.
Once the meal concluded, their hostess tapped her glass to cue her guests to silence. ‘Since you gentlemen will be conferring for the remainder of the evening, we shall all go straight through for tea. So we ladies may enjoy a bit more of your company before you abandon us.’
Following her lead, the guests walked through to the sitting room, where servants were already setting out the tea service.
Rafe hoped Lord Altorn would occupy his wife, but he went straight to the side of Mrs Rousley.
From the glances they exchanged at dinner and his little touch of her hand as he reached the lady, Rafe surmised the lovely Mrs Rousely might be Lord Altorn’s latest ‘interest.’
Rafe turned to face the hearth, as if studying the leaping flames, not wanting it to look obvious that he was avoiding the ladies. But a moment later, he felt a tingling at the back of his neck and drew in a waft of rose perfume he remembered all too well.
‘Lord Thornthwaite, pleasure to see you here,’ Lady Altorn said, halting beside him. ‘I’m impressed that you are taking serious interest in your duties in the Lords.’
‘I didn’t realize you had an interest in Parliamentary matters.’
‘Yes, Lord Altorn was elected to a seat in one of the boroughs his father controls. It’s stimulating to be among those discussing plans for the future of our nation.
My husband also quite enjoys mingling with political people.
’ She gave a slight glance in the direction where her husband was smiling at Mrs Rousely.
‘I don’t always attend these dinners with him, but when Louisa mentioned you’d be one of the guests, I felt I must come.’
Deciding it was better to be direct, he said, ‘What do you want of me, Thalia? I’m married now. We can never can go back to the way things were.’
‘I know. But can’t we salvage…something? Can you tell me you no longer feel anything for me?’
Rafe felt the pull of the beauty who had enchanted him so many years ago. Of course he felt something—he hadn’t yet quite sorted out just what—but he didn’t want to encourage her by admitting it.
‘You’ll have no trouble finding a replacement to admire you,’ he evaded. ‘Any number of gentlemen, Randolph chief among them, are already eager to lay their devotion at your feet.’
She shrugged. ‘Perhaps. But none would be you. No one ever has been. No one ever will be.’
Once, he would have given all he possessed to hear her say this. Part of him wanted to exult at her words, at her desire to rekindle the love that had cost him so much pain.
Instead, to his surprise, her words only fueled the anguished mix of anger, grief, regret and hurt to a hotter pitch.
She might accept the standards of a morally lax Society. She might even feel that, having done her duty by her family, she deserved to seek out such happiness as she could find.
But to go from the blazing purity of the love he’d once felt to the tawdriness of an illicit affair? The idea filled him with revulsion.
‘It’s far too late to do anything about that.’