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‘Perhaps in a moment we will; Betty is bringing us a fresh pot of tea, Papa... Ah...it has arrived.’ Elise’s grateful smile welcomed into the room the housekeeper bearing a tray.
Elise distributed the cups once the servant had poured and then placed a plate of raisin gingerbread on a table close to the viscount and sweetly urged him to help himself.
‘I was sorry to hear of your father’s demise,’ Walter suddenly said before biting into a finger of cake.
‘Thank you, sir.’ Alex graciously dipped his raven head.
‘He was a good man...astute. I found him to be a fine judge of character,’ Walter added darkly before rattling his cup back on to its saucer.
A corner of Alex’s mouth twitched. He knew very well what lay behind the praise: his late father had openly loathed his brother-in-law and so had Walter Dewey.
‘And how is your mother? Is she well?’
‘I saw her just yesterday and she was a picture of health,’ Alex truthfully replied.
‘They were happy together, everybody said so...’ Walter mumbled, more to himself.
Elise quickly finished her tea and stood up. She glanced at Alex, hoping he would understand the significance in her removing herself. She wanted to provide him with an opportunity to talk privately to her father about Thomas Venner’s debt.
‘I think I recall where the feverfew is to be found outside. It isn’t in the physic garden at all, but up by the bonfire site. I shall show Bea and the doctor where to look while you finish your tea.’
‘Your sister might not appreciate your help,’ Walter remarked with the faintest of smiles.
Elise glanced thoughtfully at her papa, but a moment later slipped from the parlour.
‘Help yourself to more if you would like,’ Walter said after a few quiet moments, having noticed the viscount’s cup remaining idle. He jabbed his pate at the tea tray. ‘I’d do the honours, but as you’ve seen it takes me a while to get up and move about. By the time you had your tea it would be cold.’
‘One cup is enough for me, sir, thank you.’
‘I know...’ Walter sighed, sloshing tea into his saucer as he pushed it away. ‘Truth to tell I’d had my fill of it before you arrived. Now, if I had something stronger close to hand, I’d offer you a glass. The port is in my study...’ He sent the viscount a twinkling look from beneath wiry brows.
* * *
As Elise hurried out into the sunshine her head was crammed with a host of worries. The most pressing anxiety, of course, concerned that blackguard Whittiker and the havoc he might wreak. A short while ago, on reading Verity’s letter, she’d been elated that gossip appeared not to have spread in town, but doubts were again creeping in. The absence of any mention of a scandal didn’t mean the swine had changed his mind.
Then she had Alex’s marriage proposal constantly tormenting her. She wished she could lock it firmly away, for no good could come of it...could it? If he asked her again, she might succumb to that wistful yearning that wouldn’t quit niggling at her and accept him. Once married, her joy and relief would soon turn to ashes when the honeymoon was done. Unless... His scold that she knew nothing about his requirements in a wife and marriage meant he could grow to love her in the way she knew she’d come to love him. Did he hope to model their marriage on his parents’ happy union ? Elise sighed, throwing back her head to beg wisdom from the heavens. Was she allowing hope to blind her to sense and reason? Why would he give up his mistress—the woman who just a short while ago had travelled beside him, adoring him with her eyes—when he didn’t have to...had not promised to...
Should she cede to a need to have him at any cost she would be miserable and resentful, she decided, and constantly wondering whether she would not sooner have faced ostracism than endure a hollow sham of respectability. Yet dismissing salvation for her own sake was selfish; like rippling circles on a still pond her disgrace would spread widely and affect people she dearly cared about. With a pang she remembered the delightful news she’d received just a short while ago. The idea that her shame might taint her best friend’s future happiness was intolerable. She prayed that Jago Clemence would be able to withstand gossip about his fiancée being friends with a woman ruined beyond redemption.
Overriding the muddle in her mind was one poignant certainty: she hadn’t expected Alex to arrive today, but now he was here she didn’t want him to go. She’d insisted he take some refreshment before leaving, as though the idea of his departure was of no consequence to her, yet she knew as soon as farewells had been said she’d be desolate.
