The Undoing Of A Lady

“That makes it all right, then. When men say they have to deal with business it is so important that it excuses all, does it not?”

“You’re angry,” Nat said.

“You’re perceptive.” Her expression was contemptuous. “It is our wedding night, Nat Waterhouse. You gain fifty thousand pounds from me, you have me in your bed-” her gaze, burning and intense, reminded him of how that had been “-you take the things you want,” she continued, “and then you go out on business and leave me alone. You treat me like a possession and then you behave like a single man.” She threw her cards down in a gesture of disgust. “I have carte blanche and no picture cards. I suspect you win.”

“Four games to your two.” Nat looked at her. “You should have declared earlier. You’re reckless.”

“Clearly,” Lizzie said. “How exciting for you to be proved right.” She stood up and the silver net dress rustled softly as it slid over the lines and curves of her body. She looked ice-cool and composed whilst Nat felt so hot he was burning up. It maddened him that she could provoke him and his body would respond to her so violently even when his mind rebelled against the hold she had over him.

“Come with me,” he said roughly. He stood up. “We are going home.”

She looked him up and down slowly like a queen appraising a peasant. Even the tilt of her chin was haughty. Her gaze rested disdainfully on the bulge of his enormous erection. “Home?” she said. “You’ll never last that long. You want me too much.”

Nat was afraid that she was right. He wanted to make love to her here on the card room table or against the wall or anywhere that would soothe this unbearable ache in his body. His desperate arousal was all he could think of. He grabbed Lizzie’s wrist, careless of who was watching.

“I won, so…”

“So you claim your prize.” Lizzie was smiling though her eyes were still cold. He wanted to kindle a matching heat in her, to master her and force a response. He pulled her to him and kissed her. He was not the sort of man to kiss a woman in the very public surroundings of the Fortune’s Folly assembly rooms but one touch of her lips, cool and firm, and he forgot where they were. He almost forgot who he was. He kissed her hard, tasting the champagne on her tongue and the sweet taste that was Lizzie herself and he did not stop kissing her until the Master of Ceremonies approached them to say that their carriage was waiting and if they could leave at once it would be much appreciated because they were creating a public disturbance.

Lizzie was proved right. In the carriage Nat stripped the silver dress off her, leaving her in nothing but the diamond necklace, and took her there and then on the seat, whilst the coach drove around the village in circles until they had finished. Lizzie smiled her cool smile in the summer darkness and her naked body glistened equally as cool and pale and the sight of it just seemed to fire Nat’s lust all the more. He lost himself in her whilst deploring his lack of control. Afterward he felt sated but not happy and Lizzie was silent and withdrawn from him, and the doubts that had shadowed his mind earlier in the evening came back and would not be banished. He had feared that marriage to Lizzie would be a disaster and whilst their lovemaking might be spectacular he was starting to see that his misgivings might be justified. There was some devil of unhappiness that drove Lizzie and he did not understand why, and whilst he wanted to help her he did not know how.

When they finally reached Chevrons he took Lizzie to bed and made love to her again, trying to banish the demons, and then he fell into an uneasy sleep, waking only when his valet brought in the hot water and threw the curtains wide. The bed was empty and Lizzie had gone. Nat felt a strange pang of loss.

Lizzie was already in the breakfast parlor when he went downstairs. She was wearing a dress of pale green trimmed with black lace-her concession to mourning, Nat presumed-and she looked exceedingly pretty except that there were dark circles beneath her eyes. Her hair was ruthlessly restrained in a matching green bandeau and she was picking at a piece of toast and honey as though she detested the sight of it.

Nat took a cup of coffee, dismissed the footman and went to sit across from her. He knew he had to speak to her but there was such a strong reserve about her that it seemed to make it impossible to find the right words.

“I trust that you are well this morning?” he said, knowing even as he spoke that he sounded stilted. Lizzie raised her blank, green gaze to his and he had the oddest sensation that there was nothing behind her eyes at all, no thought, no feeling.

“I am quite well.” She sounded as distant as the slightest acquaintance.

Nat cleared his throat. “About last night-”

“I suppose I should apologize for embarrassing you,” Lizzie said. She did not look up from her plate. “I apologize.”

“No,” Nat found himself saying. “No, I don’t want an apology.” He ran a hand over his hair in an agitated gesture. “I just want to know why you did it, why you went out, why you felt you needed to gamble with Tom?”

Her gaze flickered to his face and then she looked away again. “Because I am wild and ungovernable,” she said ironically. “Have you not always said so?”

“Yes, but-” Nat struggled. This, he knew, was not the real answer. There had to be more to her behavior than a simple impulse to be scandalous, yet she offered no explanation. He shook his head, baffled.

“I do not understand why you do these outrageous things,” he said. His mind went back to the previous night. What was it that she had said?

“It is our wedding day. You gain fifty thousand pounds from me, you have me in your bed, you take the things you want and then you go out on business.”

“I am sorry I left you alone last night,” he said. “I should have thought that it was our wedding night and-” He stopped as she turned her face away.

“It does not matter,” she said. She spoke very quietly.

He had the impression that it mattered a great deal but she was refusing to acknowledge it.

“I should apologize for the way that I treated you, too,” he said. “I wanted you and I was not gentle. I had forgotten you have little experience-”

Lizzie shrugged a shoulder with what seemed to be indifference. “You did not hurt me or shock me,” she said. “I am more shocked to discover that we have such a physical affinity when there is nothing else…” She stopped, biting her lip. “Excuse me,” she said, rising to her feet.

Nat put out a hand. He knew that this unsatisfactory conversation should not-could not-end here. There was something very wrong and too many things unsaid to let it go. He could feel his marriage slipping, sliding, down a slope toward the inevitable disaster he had predicted for it. He did not know how to stop it even though he desperately wanted to do something.

“Lizzie,” he said.

She paused and looked at him and once again her gaze was totally blank and Nat felt frustrated and confused as though he had somehow lost her even though she was standing right in front of him.

“I know there is something wrong,” he said. “Lizzie, talk to me.”

Her eyelashes flicked down and a hint of color stole into her cheek. “There is nothing wrong,” she said. “I am perfectly fine.”

“Are you?”

For a moment he caught a flash of the most abject misery in her face and then she raised her chin. “I am going into town,” she said. “I wish to visit the circulating library. I hope that meets with your approval?”

“Perfectly. Of course.” Nat shook his head slightly at the abrupt change of subject. “I shall be working today,” he added. “Dexter has asked me to rejoin him and Miles in the investigation into your brother’s death and there is much to do.”

Lizzie nodded and went out and a moment later Nat heard her speaking to Mrs. Alibone and the sound of her step on the stairs and then all was quiet. Nat finished his breakfast in silence, trying to distract himself with the morning copy of the Leeds Intelligencer, and wondered why he felt worse than before.

CHAPTER TEN