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Self-disgust surged up her gullet as she grasped the doorknob. So much for acting on her desperation to reclaim what they’d once had. Her shame that she was pushing him away from her was almost equal to her shame at realising that her actions confirmed she had chosen to accept the price. With no satisfaction in the marital bed, what other course was there for a red-blooded male?
“Sleep well, Cressida.” There was such genuine fondness in his expression as he prepared to leave her that she nearly abandoned her resolve by throwing herself recklessly into his arms.
“You too, Justin.”
He was nearly gone when she stopped him. Her throat was dry but she had to know his plans for the rest of this evening, though couched in such a way that no invitation could be forthcoming if perchance he was going straight to bed.
“Will you join me for breakfast?” she asked, smiling her false, bright smile.
“If you wish it.” By contrast he was no longer smiling. “However, I feel restless. I know I shan’t sleep.” Indeed, he did look distracted—and little wonder—his gaze fixed on a point somewhere near the window. “I think perhaps I’ll return to White’s. Roddy Johnson was still there when I left and had, I think, plans for a night on the town.”
Only when she was safely in the nursery and satisfied that little Thomas was sleeping peacefully did Cressida return to her chamber and give vent to her feelings. Sinking back down upon the stool in front of her dressing table she rested her head upon her arms and sobbed.
Chapter Three
A night of revelry hadn’t been the antidote for which Justin had hoped and even as he knocked upon the heavy oak door he questioned his motivation. Business or the need to unburden himself? He had a good excuse for both.
He was led into the shabby little sitting room at Mrs Plumb’s house of ill repute by a young girl barely older than his own daughter, an uncomfortable thought. He should be coming here for one reason only, not risking Cressida’s happiness, for God help him if she should ever find out. What would she think of the smell of cheap perfume that drifted from the other rooms of the house? Her sensibilities would be highly offended. She’d suspect the worst while not even knowing what that was.
The young girl disappeared into the shadows and he removed his masquerade mask as he was greeted by the single occupant of the room.
“It was good of you to come, Justin.” His old friend’s smile was tired, with no trace of the radiance he remem
bered. She looked as if she’d been working hard for a long time and needed to sleep for a month. “My boy got your message a short while ago. You should know it is never too late to pay a call upon Mrs Plumb’s establishment.” There was a trace of bitterness in her wry smile as she offered him a seat on the chaise longue beside her with a languid wave of her graceful arm.
He sat, reflecting that she was showing her years now, though she was still beautiful and striking with that regal grace of hers. Only a few strands of grey peppered her almost blue-black hair and her body was as ripe as he remembered it. But her heart had been broken and the melancholy that had leeched her vibrancy tugged at his heartstrings. They’d once been so close.
“You know I could never refuse you, Mariah,” he said, accepting a glass of brandy from the young servant who discreetly left them alone after plumping a few cushions and tending to the small fire.
She gave a little laugh and reached over to pat his toga-clad calf where it crossed his knee. “I think you could,” she said, “if I were to overreach myself. Everyone tells me what a loyal and devoted husband and father you are these days.”
Impulsively he took her hand, surprising himself. She gripped it and for a moment he was afraid she wasn’t about to let it go. But she was too shrewd not to understand, he realised, as she gave it an almost maternal pat before releasing it.
“Devoted, my dear Mariah,” he corroborated in a murmur, his mind replaying the painful events of his parting the previous night with his beloved and increasingly distant wife.
Whatever happened, he’d always be devoted to Cressida. He’d come here, driven to expand on what he’d only hinted at to Mariah some nights ago. He needed the advice of a sensible woman and there were few of those in his life, he reflected, thinking of his mother who now lived with them and of Cressida’s frightful cousin, Catherine. Perhaps Mariah, as a kind woman with considerable experience of life, could offer some insight into the reasons for Cressida’s withdrawal the past eight months.
First, though, it was understandable that Mariah would want to know his progress concerning the unexpected request she’d made several weeks ago. There was much to admire in this woman who had suffered with such dignity.
Almost businesslike, she asked, “I presume you are here because you have discovered something?”
Justin was not deceived by her tone of detachment.
“There are several avenues, Mariah.”
“Several.” She took a breath, drawing herself up and fixing him with an incisive look. One dainty black slipper peeped from beneath the flounce of her once fashionable cerulean gown. Mariah had always dressed elegantly but in the dim light Justin could see the signs of wear, the discreet darning.
“Yet nothing concrete?”
He shook his head. “Mariah, if you need money—”
She raised her hand, cutting him off. “I sing for my supper every Wednesday, Justin. Mrs Plumb has been a good friend.” She indicated the small drawing room in which they sat. “She gives me my privacy when I need it and ensures I do not lack entertainment.”
Justin gave a wry laugh. “I wish it weren’t necessary to disguise myself, Mariah. I feel like a thief in the night and don’t know how I’d begin to explain these visits to my wife.”
“Your wife should strive a little harder to value the prize jewel she married. You’ve not told her about what you’re doing, Justin? You promised me.”
His urge to confide in Mariah was checked by her mild criticism of Cressida and he regretted unburdening himself when he’d hinted that his wife was no longer as eager for the joys of the marital bed as she once had been. But it had been so good to see Mariah again after nearly ten years, and natural to revive the friendship with its old familiarity.
