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She dragged herself to the edge of the hay and stood up. Forcing up her chin, she tidied her clothes and hair with unsteady fingers while taking searching glances here and there to locate him in the shadows. She hadn’t heard the barn door creak, but couldn’t be sure he hadn’t gone away and left her.
The depressing thought of being so absolutely abandoned made a sob well in her chest. And then she saw him as a slanting moonbeam fell from above. He’d hunkered down against the door, his outstretched arms resting on his knees, his head lowered towards them. But it seemed he was aware of her approach.
‘I’m sorry...’
‘So am I,’ Elise whispered in response to his hoarse apology. ‘Will you take me home?’ She managed to force level civility into her tone.
‘Where does your father think you are?’
He hadn’t moved, even to raise his face to ask her that question. It seemed so long ago that she had been crying in her room while below the others ate supper. Her sister and her aunt had tried to persuade her to go down, too, but the thought of food had made her feel nauseated. Besides, she’d been determined to confront Alex immediately. She’d not wanted to upset her father again by defying him—and he would have forbidden her meeting the scoundrel, as he’d called him—so she hadn’t told anybody she was going out.
Gentlemen had their baser habits, her aunt had confided, patting her hand and trying to console her, and wives had to learn to live with them. Now Elise wished dearly she had acted sensibly, as her aunt had said she must, and rested quietly to put things into perspective. Instead, she’d crept out to beg Mr Francis to take her to town.
Had she not, Alex would by now have arrived to see her, bringing her Verity and Fiona’s gift and news of his meeting with Anthony Chapman. The scandalous scene her aunt had witnessed would have been explained away and Elise knew she might have felt privately quite sorry that his mistress had made a fool of herself. Now it was she who’d made a fool of herself and destroyed her chance at happiness into the bargain.
‘Where does your father think you are, Elise?’ Alex repeated his question, sliding his back up the door so he stood leaning against it, hands in pockets.
‘Mr Francis brought me to town on the trap. I sent him home with a message for Papa that you would bring me back after we had talked.’ She was glad she’d managed to sound composed. ‘Will you do that, please?’
‘Of course...in a moment...if you want my company. If not, I’ll get my tiger to take you back.’
They both remained quite still while an echoing silence seemed to soar up to the rafters.
‘I want you to,’ Elise murmured, a catch to her voice. She knew he was feeling guilty for having kept her down on the straw when she’d said she would get up. But he’d known the truth and in temper had taunted her with it. She craved his touch as keenly as he would bestow it. But for her pride and fear of rejection holding her back she’d launch herself at him now and tempt him to do it again.
‘I was jealous.’ Elise shattered the unbearable tension with the blurted admission, then dropped forwards her head, concealing her shyness. ‘I couldn’t bear the thought of you kissing her or doing...anything...with her,’ she finished lamely, unable to voice the magical way he aroused her...no doubt aroused all the women he fancied.
‘I didn’t kiss her, or do anything with her. She flung herself at me and kissed me.’
Elise nodded acceptance of his flat declaration, fussing with her cloak fastenings to occupy her quivering fingers. ‘I believe you. I know I misjudged you.’
‘You didn’t misjudge me, Elise,’ Alex corrected gently. He waited until she raised her head to look at him before continuing. ‘How do you see me?’ he asked quietly. ‘As a wealthy man, old enough to be respectably married, yet avoiding family life in favour of consorting with women of low principles and lower virtue? That’s me...’ He claimed his own derogatory description with a sour smile. ‘That was me...until the night I went to Vauxhall Gardens and met you.’ He walked away from the door to stand before her. ‘It’s not your fault you sensed my immature failings and thus doubted me. You were right to do so.’ He raised a hand as though he would touch her, but his fingers clenched, dropped back to his side. ‘Despite what you must think of me after what I just put you through, I swear I’m different now. If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have walked away from you a moment ago.’
