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“You will return tomorrow, countess.”
“And where will you be?”
“I will remain in Town.”
More separation. She stared at him mutely. “Will you ever approve of me as I am…love me as I love you?” she managed to ask, her heartbeat in her throat.
He jerked and then stilled. Though she ached for him to say yes, she knew it would not be so. The very fact that he wanted her away from him spoke volumes. He fished a handkerchief from his pocket and held it to her. “Dry your tears,” he said gruffly.
It was then that Livvie realized tears were streaming unchecked down her cheeks and her throat felt raw. She swiped at them furiously. The last time she had cried so piteously was when her father abandoned her. It infuriated her that Tobias would reduce her to a similar state of hopelessness. Her heart felt like it was being ripped from her chest and there was nothing she could do to stop the unrelenting ache.
He leaned over and cupped her cheeks, startling her. “Your crying has the power to gut me.” His thumb brushed away one of the tears on her cheek.
Though she very much wanted to lean into him, climb into his lap, even, she pulled away. “Do you have any affections for me, Tobias? For our marriage to work…we need more than passion. Mutual regard is highly welcomed.”
His eyes went dark. “I do not know. You make me feel…confused…desperate, feelings I am at loss with what to do with, feelings I do not welcome.”
She swallowed. “Would you love me if I was the docile sort? If I did not ride and fence as well as you do? Was my mother correct, do I need to change everything about me, for you to admire me as ardently as I do you? If that is the case, my lord, we will never have a happy situation. I am deeply regretful for my impulsive behavior in the ballroom, I never meant to embarrass you or tempt you to act in a scandalous manner.”
A severe frown split his brow. “I do not blame you for my actions. I was well aware when I lifted you what the reaction of the ton would be.”
She nodded mutely, painfully aware he did not acknowledge the fact that she loved him or that more was needed for them to be happy together. It pained her to admit it, but she could not endure such a union.
…
Tobias stood beneath the low-burning gas lamp on the street in Mayfair and watched his wife enter her father’s town house. His heart was a dull aching thud inside his chest. Not once had she glanced back as she alighted from the carriage and marched away with her head lifted high and proud.
Do you love me, Tobias?
Will you ever approve of me?
His town house in Grosvenor Square was only a short distance away and he started to walk home. He’d acted without thought when he lifted his countess in his arms and escorted her from the ball. The murmurings that had rippled through the crowd had unfazed him. The only thing he had cared about was that his wife’s eyes had been shadowed by hurt and betrayal. He knew her willful ways and understood instinctively she would have forced herself to stay and endure unpleasantness because of pride. Instead of arguing with her, he had simply acted…much like the way his wife was—reckless and improper. He grimaced, hardly caring if the ton assigned such epithets to him.
What did he care about?
Do you love me, Tobias?
He faltered. Such a simple question yet so intricate. He commanded his feet to move and several minutes later he belatedly realized he was standing in front of his town house. He walked up the steps almost woodenly. His butler opened the door.
“Welcome home, my lord.”
“Evening, Collins,” he murmured, shrugging from his jacket and rolling his shirt to his elbow. Entering his library, he tugged at his cravat, loosening it. He strolled over to the windows overlooking the small gardens at the side of the house, lingering deep in his thoughts.
Do you love me, Tobias?
He had no notion of how long he stood at the windows looking out into the dark. He only knew his thoughts were filled with his wife and the fact that he needed to return to her father’s town house and see her. The dawn broke as he stood there, bleak and dreary, so very different from the previous summer days, possibly a reflection of his mood.
His eyes were gritty and he was in need of sleep, but he could not delay. He must visit his countess. What he would speak of when he saw her, he was unsure, but the devastation her eyes had spoken of could no longer be endured. The volatile feelings she roused could no longer be withstood. A decision had to be made, and it was one they needed to do jointly. With rapid strides, he exited the library and went upstairs. He called for a bath, and his valet selected his clothes with welcomed efficiency.
An hour later, freshly shaved, trimmed, and dressed in buff-color breeches with a dark blue jacket and matching waistcoat, Tobias approached Lord Bathurst’s town house. Instead of calling for the carriage, he elected to walk, desiring the cold, crisp air to help him clear his thoughts. After a sharp rap on the front door, the butler allowed him entrance after perusing his calling card. A few minutes later he was situated in an elegantly appointed drawing room, waiting on his countess to descend, anticipation and surprisingly nerves, had him tugging at his cravat.
Instead of his countess making an appearance, a woman who introduced herself as the housekeeper, Mrs. Andrews, handed him a letter.
“My lord, I was instructed by her ladyship for this letter to be delivered to you this afternoon.”
Foreboding slithered through him. “Where is my wife?”
Mrs. Andrews fidgeted. “Her ladyship departed at the crack of dawn with her maid and a small valise.”
