Page 62 of The Earl and His Lady

When they returned to the stables, Lucas stepped down without a word to the groom who came forward. He held his arms out to help her down, and Virginia stepped into them. The fabric of her gown against his ungloved hands was soft and smooth, her waist trim and an excellent fit to his hand. But he thought little on that and more on how she kept her eyes averted.

“Please see to it the basket is returned to the kitchens, and the gloves to my man for cleaning,” Lucas said to the groom, then offered his arm—as always—to Virginia.

She took it and walked with him. Mere steps from the side door, she spoke at last.

“I understand your concerns, Lucas. Thank you for telling me.”

That was all. She didn’t say another word. Virginia released his arm and went ahead at a quicker pace, leaving him to stand in the doorway. Lucas watched her go, a piece of his heart going with her and leaving the rest to beat painfully inside his chest.

Chapter Twenty-two

Dinner was a strained affair that evening, though Virginia did nothing to alleviate the tension between them. She barely said two words to Lucas, and he remained silent as well. She excused herself as early as possible, intent on gaining her bedroom and its blessed peace.

What happened between them regarding visiting her tenants, though she could not accurately explain it, had strained their relationship. She could feel it between them, as if they had been holding on to opposite ends of a string and, pulling in two different directions, waited for it to snap. His demands, his fears, couldn’t rule her actions.

Virginia shut the door behind her, in the room that had been hers since Charles brought her home as a bride, and leaned back against the cool wood. Though the summer sun should have kept the room lit, even at the after-dinner hour, the clouds had moved in again and everything was dark as night.

She found her way to the lamp on the mantel and the tinder box. Once she had light, she pulled the chord to summon Louisa.

When Charles’s illness became severe enough he could not leave his bed, Louisa had assisted in her undressing every night. But before, when the room adjoining hers had belonged to Charles, it was he who saw to that task. He’d never minded.

Her cheeks warmed at the memories that came with that thought. Virginia hurried to her dressing table and sat, pulling pins out without regard for gentleness. It was better to distract herself, to move with haste and purpose. Just as she’d done all things since the morning after her husband’s death.

The boys needed her to be strong. The people around her needed to see her as capable and practical. It was up to her to keep her children safe and—

“Good evening, my lady.” Louisa entered the room, a smile on her face. “Turning in early for the trip tomorrow?”

Tomorrow? Virginia bit her bottom lip and glared at herself in the mirror. In the morning, they would start back to Annesbury Park. Lucas and she had agreed that matters were well in hand and they could return earlier than expected. At the time, she’d been glad she’d rejoin the boys sooner. However, with the rift between the earl and herself, and a long carriage ride before them, Virginia wished the journey could be put off.

She met Louisa’s curious eyes in the mirror and swiftly nodded. “Yes. I thought it would be wise to rest well tonight. One never knows about the coaching inns, after all.”

“Yes, my lady.” Louisa went about her duties efficiently, chattering about seeing old friends and the news of the community. Virginia smiled and murmured a response when required, but attending to the conversation was difficult with her thoughts flying in several directions.

“My lady,” Louisa began, brushing out Virginia’s hair in preparation to plait it, “I was wondering if there is anything you would like me to bring back to Annesbury Park. Any of your personal items.”

Virginia pulled herself from her thoughts at this question. She had considered it herself a time or two in the preceding days. “Yes. I have a list.” She looked down at her dressing table and opened a drawer. “I think just a few things. But I have gone this long without them, they obviously are not essential. If we haven’t room, take one of the trunks from the attics.”

“Yes, my lady.” Her maid took the list and read over it. “What of your gowns?”

Virginia started and met the maid’s eyes in the mirror. “I have no mourning clothing here, Louisa.”

The woman ducked her head. “I know, my lady. If you will permit me to say, we aren’t certain when we will return again, and it may be practical to keep a few gowns in reserve, for after.”

There would come an after, Virginia knew. One day, the mourning would be put off. It was sometimes difficult to remember that color would be part of her life again. Often, she tried not to look at herself in the black and gray ensembles she wore now. They were a stark symbol of her loss, meant as a reminder for her and the world.

“What would you suggest we bring, Louisa?” she asked, curious. Her maid was thinking far into the future, it would seem.

“There were a few gowns you had made for the London season that you haven’t even worn. A few day dresses, an evening gown or two. I could put them up nice in a trunk for the right time, my lady.”

Virginia rose and went to the wardrobe, opening it slowly. Her things had been stored in the dressing room for the visit, but she knew her favorite gowns, the newest gowns, were here. She looked inside, studying the shining fabric of a gown she had commissioned nearly a year before. A celestial-blue evening gown, which glimmered with different shades of blue and green depending upon the lighting.

When she had been fitted for it, by her favorite seamstress in London, she had thought it the most beautiful dress she’d ever owned. But after Charles became ill, it hardly mattered if she had a pretty gown or not. She’d left it behind, and all the memories she had meant to build while wearing it. The gown was like a wished-for dream that had never come to pass.

“Bring this one, too,” Virginia said, laying her hand on the fabric. It would do her well to remember to dream, once in a while. Charles would not want her to give up on dreaming.

Louisa took her leave at last, promising to be up early to finish packing, and Virginia was left alone in her bed.

Alone. In Bath, when the doctor required she take a room separate from her husband, it had been an adjustment. Though they kept their own chambers, they were rarely without one another at night. To find herself apart from Charles had been difficult, but she’d adapted. The past several months, first with Christine and then at Annesbury Park, she’d not struggled too often to fall asleep. Not really.