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“Talk about judging by appearances.” He brought up, reminding her the night he spent searching Bess.
“I have apologised, as you remember.” She defended herself.
Abruptly, Conrad pulled the horse’s reigns, halting the buggy, with a jerk, in the middle of the deserted muddy road. He turned serious to her. She had no other option than turn to him too. He dressed a dark brown riding coat, over his white shirt, cravat and vest, lon
g legs clad in dark brown breeches. A topper let loose strands of his midnight hair. In other words, gorgeous!
“I apologise, Aurelia.” He said gravely.
“Accepted.” She said simply
He shook his head, closing his dark eyes briefly and rubbing his hand over his neck. “No, I mean, I apologise. For everything.” He re-opened his eyes and bore them into hers.
She fixed him with unwavering eyes, at a loss for words. His uttering so unexpected, she would not have seen it coming in a thousand years. She forced her gape to close. Reply would not come.
“I made you go through unthinkable circumstances and I regret the whole of it.”
“I…” She gaped again, moved. Her heart washed with a kind of warmth she did not identify. It clogged her throat, causing her difficulty to talk or breath.
“I understand it is going to be hard for you to forgive me, but I am asking for forgiveness, anyway.” His humble expression told of his sincerity.
Tears burned behind her eyes and she tried laboriously to keep them there. Capable only of a curt nod of acknowledgement, she turned her face to the road, her spine stiff.
Conrad scrutinised her for long moments before he moved the reigns and urged the horse forward.
The words forgiveness and her husband never figured together in her mind. During those years of struggles and then precious peace, she adapted to her situation, too busy to care for thoughts of sorrow or comeback. Her total energies concentrated on surviving physical and emotionally, she had no time for blaming, herself or him. All the same, the hurt and the bitterness had installed themselves in her heart, hardening it, shredding it of love or trust. His apology threw her in a pot of confusion and ambiguity. Again, her emotions torn her to pieces.
Tea at the Colemans proved to be a pleasant occasion, even though her mind stood apart, absent from there. She went through the motions, the courtesy and the small talk, but she was present only in body. The rest of her, in shambles, she kept locked and separated.
She did not come to him at night. Or the subsequent ones, for that matter. Conrad sat in his chamber’s sitting room with an unread book in his hands. He had lain in his bed for several evenings, in hot expectation. Nothing happened though. It was as if asking for her forgiveness had made her retreat inside herself completely.
Her anger towards him showed how difficult it would be for her to forgive him if she ever did. He realised it. And accepted it. Five years of marriage, of which, three he disappointed her; and the other two, he abandoned her. He would not win ‘gentleman of the year’ prize any soon.
No doubt, his duty lay with apologising. It came late, by the way. He must have done it ages ago. His mistakes took time to hit him. He had not had opportunity to say it properly to her until that day. She kept shunning him whenever the opportunity arose. They got embroiled in this… advance and retreat since he arrived. His attempts of closing the distance between them met with either little success or sheer failure. He did not want to give up though. He would not! Give her time, breathing room, and he would see.
Aurelia had become addicted to him. That must be the only explanation for her craving him, she thought one night. She lay in bed itching to cross the connecting door and enjoy what would offer her. She resisted bravely, sour frustration being the price.
She did not understand this… need for him. His asking for forgiveness had rattled her to her very essence. She did not find it in her to forgive him, or not, laying in that grey jelly-like zone, as if she swam in a muddy lake, without being able to see anything clearly. Still, being far from him physically gnawed at her deepest yearnings. She wished she could find a way to conciliate these opposite pieces, but had no idea of how.
Chapter Ten
Viscount and Viscountess of Strafford sat at the dining room, waiting for the footmen to serve them. Dinners had been taking place in an awkward mode, with stiff small talk and tense stretched silences.
Today, Conrad could not seem to take his eyes from her. She dressed in one of her prim austere apparels. This one not high-necked as the others. Part of her neck uncovered, making him envision his lips grazing it to the lace neckline. His eyes strolled slowly up. To her delicate chin, her elegant mouth, her perfect nose, arriving at her eyes, which observed him, wide. She flushed as their gazes clashed. His groins stirred and made him instantly uncomfortable on his chair. How did a man stop wanting this woman? He wished he knew. Or rather, he wished he would get his fill of her.
“You need new dresses. I’ll call the modiste from the village tomorrow.” He decreed, unable to stop his attention to fall to her full bosom, imagining all kinds of appetizing things he wanted to do to it. His “discomfort” became positively painful.
“I have the clothing I need for my daily routine.” She said a little too huskily, intensifying his want of her.
“You are a Viscountess and you should attire yourself accordingly when we are in a social occasion.” He would order very… inappropriate outfits, especially for the night, he thought with not a shred of shame.
She eyed him from under her lashes. His insistent measuring made her utterly hot. The way he detained in her breasts caused them to pluck and her body to crave he caressed them. Thoroughly.
“I do have dresses for every occasion.” Her breath not entirely even.
“I remember many of them from the time we were engaged.” He addressed her lips, and they tingled, eager for his kiss.
“I admit a few are old-fashioned, but I’ve been refitting many.” She persisted in her economical way. The memory of their engagement made her nostalgic about her youth dreams and fantasies. What a waste of time they had been!
