Let Me Be The One (38 page)

But she would grieve, Northam thought. That was what she had been doing tonight, mourning the separation that must of necessity occur on the morrow. And not just from taking leave of Isabel and her brother, as she would have him believe, but also from leaving her father. Nothing was so black and white in that uneasy alliance between Rosemont and his daughter. Each nuance of their kinship was shaded gray.

North rested his hand on Elizabeth's shoulder. His thumb made a gentle pass across the curve. "Who was your lover, Elizabeth?" He felt her stiffen, but she did not jerk away from him."There was only one, wasn't there?" She nodded almost imperceptibly. "And your father found out." This time there was a more noticeable assent. "This is how you think you hurt him. He was angry with you."

"He was enraged," she said tonelessly.

Now Northam nodded. Rosemont's reaction was understandable. No matter how the relationship with his daughter had already been strained, he was still her protector. "What did he do, Elizabeth? Send your lover away? Challenge him? Arrange for your marriage?"

She shook her head. "None of those things. He did nothing."

This was not in keeping with Rosemont's character. It seemed to North that the earl's own considerable pride would have demanded some sort of satisfaction. His eyes glanced over the flat line of Elizabeth's mouth, the stubborn tilt of her chin.
Willful.
The earl would have done something.
Willful.
Unless... "You never told him who it was," North said as the truth was borne home to him. "In spite of all the pressure he brought to bear, you never told him."

"And I will not," she said with implacable calm. Her head turned to the side to regard North. "As I will not tell you."

North lifted his hand from her shoulder and cupped the side of her face. He traced the lower edge of her lip with his thumb, his touch infinitely tender. "It has been very hard for you."

"No more than for my family." She caught his wrist and stilled his hand."Do not pity me. I had choices then. Perhaps I was not so very wise in the ones I made, but I am responsible for them."

Nodding, he withdrew his hand. "Have you never told anyone? Isabel? The colonel?"

"No!" She amended her forceful response more gently. "No. They would have told my father."

"I understand." Whether misguided or necessary, Elizabeth's silence had been predicated on the belief that she was protecting her lover. "You were in love."

"Yes."

It was the admission North expected, but he had been unable to prepare for the pain of it. He inhaled quietly, deeply, and let the breath out very slowly. Before he could think better of it, he asked, "Did he love you so well as I?"

A small, strangled sound came from Elizabeth's throat. She looked away and stared at the canopy again. Tears welled in her eyes and the act of trying to blink them back made them slip from the corners and fall past her temples. "You will think I am a waterworks," she said shakily, attempting a laugh.

Northam ignored this. He had made himself vulnerable to her. He thought he deserved an answer, even if she meant to trample him with it. "Did he, Elizabeth? Did he love you so well as I do?"

She closed her eyes, stemming the flow of tears. "No." Her answer was hardly more than a puff of air. "No, I do not think he did."

Something eased inside Northam's chest. He nodded. "I am selfish, too," he said. "I would know that I have some special place in your life."

He'd had that for some time. It was the other place he was making for himself, the one in her heart, that kept her silent.

Elizabeth turned to him, her eyes luminous. "Will you love me?"

His smile was gentle. She had never asked him before, and it seemed to North that her voice caught on the single word he said so easily and she said not at all. He reached for her, drawing her into his arms, and kissed the tearstains at the corner of her eyes, her temples. She shuddered a little in his embrace. He stroked her hair and waited for her to quiet before he set about loving her.

And he did it so very well.

* * *

In the morning, a post arrived for Elizabeth as she was finishing her breakfast. She used her butter knife to lift the baron's distinctive seal. "It is from Battenburn," she told Isabel and North. Her eyes skimmed the neatly penned missive once, then a second time to make certain she had missed no detail. When she was done she folded the letter carefully and placed it on her lap under the table. She held it there, not because she was afraid it would fall, but because it gave her a place to hide her fidgeting hands.

"He writes from London," she said."Louise has suffered some ailment of the heart. The doctors have seen her and she is resting comfortably." Elizabeth's view no longer encompassed her stepmother; she looked only at Northam. "She has asked for me."

North nodded once but said nothing. He schooled his features in anticipation of what was coming.

"May we go to London?" Elizabeth asked. "I am heartsick to ask it of you, North. I have so been looking forward to seeing Hampton Cross."

He held up his hand before she threw herself prostrate at his feet. "Of course we must go. Louise is your friend, is she not?"

Emotion knotted Elizabeth's throat. She nodded once.

"Very well. Then we go."

Isabel leaned toward Northam and touched him lightly on the forearm. "You are very good to our Elizabeth. Rosemont has confided the same to me. I know I should not speak in his place, but it has been said and I would share it."

Because Isabel meant it as a kindness, Northam said nothing that would spoil her giving spirit. Had Rosemont been present, instead of visiting tenants on his daughter's last morning at home, North would have said that his goodness to Elizabeth was no more than she deserved. It was probably just as well that Rosemont was out. The comment would have in no way been warmly received.

Northam added cream to his coffee and stirred. "Does Battenburn say how he came to write us here?"

"He also sent a letter to Hampton Cross in the event we had already left."

"I see." He lifted his cup and tasted the coffee. "The baron leaves little to chance."

Elizabeth frowned, uncertain of his meaning. "I believe he wants to do whatever is necessary for Louise's comfort. My presence will ease her mind."

"And his."

"Of course."

North's suspicions were too ill-conceived to be put into words. There was nothing to be gained by continuing the discussion until his own thinking was clear. "It will be tomorrow night before we can reach London. The horses cannot go so far without a rest, even if we can."

* * *

Northam's London home was in Merrifeld Square in the St. James district. The houses all sat behind impressive iron gates and faced the small center park, where nannies could sometimes be seen with their young charges. It was a comfortable residence, distinct from others on the square because of North's insistence that the outside lanterns be brass instead of iron.

"It is for prevention," he explained to Elizabeth when she noted the difference. "It prevents me from ending up in Lady Morgan's bed on the right or in Mr. Whitley's on the left. It is only when I am into my cups, you understand. Otherwise I have no trouble finding my room."

"I am relieved to learn of it."

Elizabeth's experience managing so many concerns for Lady Battenburn came to serve her in good stead, for events seemed to conspire to keep the newlyweds in London.

In the beginning it was Louise's heart palpitations that occupied Elizabeth. Northam commented that Lady Battenburn's wants seemed to be vastly different than her needs, but he never considered asking Elizabeth to attend to her friend less often. He watched his wife set out in the morning, sometimes for several hours, and then again in the late afternoon. On occasion he went with her but found the visits strained his good humor. It was little wonder, he reflected, that tension was quickly visible in Elizabeth's features. When he inquired solicitously as to whether she was perhaps taking on too much, he received such a sharp lecture concerning the responsibilities of friendship that he wondered if she had been in correspondence with his grandfather.

As Louise's health improved Northam's own mother found ways to occupy Elizabeth's time. He did not begrudge Celia's attentions to his wife, for Elizabeth was eminently worth showing off to London as the new Countess of Northam, but their own private hours together were too brief. There were days when he only saw his wife alone as she tumbled into bed.

Complicating Northam's desire to leave London for Hampton Cross was a succession of robberies, all of them pointing to the Gentleman Thief. The items publicly acknowledged as stolen were always jewelry. Lockets. Pearls. Earbobs. Rings. The Gentleman usually selected one interesting item from a jewelry box and left everything else untouched. Since it was never the most valuable piece available, the victims often felt some relief mixed with their sense of violation. Many times the theft went unremarked upon for days because it was not noticed or was considered to be trifling.

"It's the damnedest thing," Northam told his friends, "but I'm beginning to suspect myself."

South chuckled and pointed to the cards in the middle of the table. "Your play, North. Don't hold up the game."

North threw down a two-spot that trumped the play and South happily collected the trick for their side. "As best as I can work it out, many of the robberies have occurred during entertainments where I have been present."

Mr. Marchman considered his next play. "Do you think you're being set up? After what occurred at Battenburn, it must be tempting for the thief."

"'Course he's being set up," South said. "Play your card." He glanced over his shoulder at Elizabeth, who was reading a book near the fireplace. "I say, Lady North, if these fellows can't talk and concentrate on the game, would you consider two-handed whist with me?"

Elizabeth looked up from her book, her smile vague. "Were you speaking to me, Lord Southerton?"

South grinned. "No, m'lady. I was, as usual, speaking to myself. Please, go on with your reading." He turned back to the game and found all three of his friends staring at him with real impatience. "Oh? My turn, is it? Well, what do we have here?" He pretended to study the cards already down and then the ones in his hand. Southerton made his play a moment before the others prepared to cheerfully strangle him.

Eastlyn tossed his card down and took the trick. "Bad play, South. You keep this up and North will invite his lady to take your place. Come to think of it, the idea has merit whether you play well or not."

The game went on with decidedly more focus until Eastlyn and Marchman won the final tricks. They left the table to enjoy a glass of port. Southerton seated himself beside Elizabeth and stole a look at her book. "Highly edifying," he commented. "Malthus's
Essay on the Principle of Population.
Bloody hell. North? Do you know what your wife is reading? You must take her in hand quickly else she will get
ideas."

Everyone laughed, including Elizabeth. She closed the slim volume around her index finger and placed it on her lap. "My lord suggested it to me. He is working to repeal the Corn Laws and thinks Malthus's work may be used to present his argument. I am to help him by debating the opposite side, so I must be familiar with the principles myself."

South rested his head against the back of the sofa. "If this is an example of modern marriage, then I am for all time a bachelor."

Northam came to stand behind the sofa at his wife's back. He touched her shoulder lightly. "You will remain single, South, because no one of any sense will have you."

"Humph."

Elizabeth raised her face and basked a moment in her husband's kind smile. She reached up to her shoulder and laid one hand over his. From the perspective of Eastlyn and Mr. Marchman, modern marriage had a great deal to recommend it.

Marchman settled himself comfortably in a chair across from them and propped his feet on a stool. "How serious were you, North, about being suspected as the thief?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I don't want to believe that people would seriously credit me with the robberies, but I've heard snippets that make me think the
ton
is wondering."

"Then they should wonder more quietly," Elizabeth said sharply. She saw that her quick defense brought a smile to the others. "Oh, do not patronize me. It is quite right that I should assert my husband's innocence. Someone might say the same of any of you and I would take up cudgels on your behalf."

"Cudgels," South murmured. "Now, what exactly are those?"

The Marquess of Eastlyn smirked. "Have a care, South, or she'll level one at your head and none of us shall stay her hand."

"Thank you, my lord," Elizabeth said politely. She tapped North's hand. "I do not understand your interest in the Gentleman. And, pray, do not tell me it is because you have been suspected of being the thief. I believe your interest began before that unfortunate incident."

One of North's brows lifted. "Unfortunate? As I recall, that incident led to a most public proposal."

Elizabeth blushed as his friends chuckled. "I did not mean... that is, it was not precisely unfortunate... it is simply that..."