Chapter 17 #2
She wrested the rag ball from Roland and tossed it, watching the pug race after it in eager pursuit.
Blast it all, how had he answered Rafe’s question?
She’d known him forever, since she’d been a child, but understand him?
It was rather like trying to see clearly through a multifaceted gem.
Had he responded to Rafe like a jaded libertine?
Redemption? It would be enough for me if I might find a fine bottle of wine and a couple of ripe wenches.
Or perhaps, he’d assumed the pose of a carefree adventurer: Redemption?
It would be enough for me to shed the stale air of the ton, to feel the wind of the channel at my back, and the promise of a good horse between my knees.
The pug pounced on the rag ball, tumbling over it, and falling against Alix.
She laughed, bending over slowly and tickling his round brown belly. Then, plucking the ball from between his paws, she tapped him with it on his wet black nose and tossed it toward Elizabeth.
Roland scrambled up and after it.
When she met James at the bridge, he had said they’d both paid dearly.
Could his response have been regretful? Redemption?
It would be enough for me if I might find a way to redeem myself in your eyes.
If through my actions, I might somehow atone for the wrongs that I have committed against you and your sister.
The rag ball landed several feet from Elizabeth and rolled. Roland stalked it, paws forward, haunches up, dark eyes intense.
Though she hated to think of herself as ruined—as if she were a torn gown that could never be mended, or a letter stained with ink that could never be cleaned—she knew her life was changed forever.
There were times, such as this morning, when the weight of despair was almost more than she could bear.
Had suffering brought his spirit equally low?
Redemption? She imagined him shaking his golden head sorrowfully.
It would be enough if I might find an end to this unhappy life in the welcoming arms of death.
Roland pounced again, attacking the bundle of rags with his sharp teeth and shaking it fiercely.
She’d been waiting for a sign, certain in her heart that they were meant to be together and that someday he would come for her.
True, after so many weeks her confidence had begun to wane, but today both had happened.
She’d opened her eyes on the bridge to find him standing with his arms outstretched.
And while he hadn’t kissed her, she’d had the strongest notion that he wanted to.
It was why he’d leaned close and why she’d closed her eyes.
Magnetism. It was possible that the response James had given Rafe had been romantic.
Redemption? It would be enough if I might win back your respect and, with it, the hand of your sister, Elizabeth.
In his enthusiasm, Roland lost his grip on the ball of rags and it shot across the room, landing with a soft thump close to the bedchamber door.
Surprised, he swung his wrinkled face from side to side, searching for his elusive prey.
He might not have found it, had not the door swung open.
Cocking his head in the direction of the noise, he spied the ball and shot toward it.
But just as he was about to leap upon it, he was scooped up in the firm grip of Rafe Harcrest.
“I thought I had given orders banning this fellow from these premises,” he said, casting a mock frown at the squirming pup against his chest. Roland licked his chin.
“It appears, my love”—Alix smiled up at him—“he finds you are irresistible.”
“The little mongrel is completely indiscriminate,” he said, reaching out a hand to help Alix to her feet, “lavishing attention on anyone who might scratch his belly or pass him a scrap of food from the table.”
“You judge him too harshly,” she said, lifting the pug from out of his arms. “If you paid him better mind, you’d notice he’s fonder of you than anyone else in the household.
And loyal. Why, the other day, I found him defending your stockings from the upstairs maid.
Wouldn’t let her pick them up and put them in the wash. ”
Rafe rumpled the pug’s velvety ears, and Roland enthusiastically licked his hands. “The misguided things men do for love…”
Elizabeth changed the subject abruptly. “Have you finished attending to business for the day?”
“Why do you ask?”
From the worried glance he shot Alix, Elizabeth could tell he was making an effort to keep both his voice and expression bland.
“You’ve spent such a long time closeted in your study this afternoon,” she said, smiling innocently.
“On such a lovely day as this, I thought we might all go for a walk in the garden. Or a ride?”
Rafe cleared his throat. “I think a ride would be too vigorous for Alix in her delicate condition.” Alix crossed her hands over the slight swell of her belly and nodded.
“Perhaps a walk, a short walk. Then I’m afraid I must return to my study.
Some important correspondence I must take care of…
and speaking of correspondence”—he reached into his waistcoat—“I’ve a letter here for you, Elizabeth. ”
“A letter? For me?” Excitement rippled through her. Could it be from James? Something he hadn’t had the chance to give her when they’d encountered each other so unexpectedly? “I didn’t know the post had come today,” she said.
“About an hour ago.”
Was it something James felt compelled to dash off to her before he left? Something her brother had been brought round enough to agree to deliver? “Do you know from whom?” she asked, far more casually than she felt.
“A devoted friend.” He smiled.
Elizabeth held out an eager hand. Perhaps it was a promise to return when he’d completed his mission in France, a vow to win her hand. Rafe placed the folded missive in it. She turned it over, scarcely daring to breathe.
She recognized the handwriting immediately.