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“We shouldn’t tarry much longer.” Tabitha did not want to be discovered with the duke.
“My apologies,” he said with a devilish glint.
They crossed the back lawn and had just neared the gardens when Lady Holcombe appeared from the pathway. Tabitha swore she must have turned a shade of red from the way the dowager gave her a knowing look. Could the woman guess what the couple had done?
Andrew approached the dowager. “When are the guests arriving, Gran? I say, all of a sudden I’m famished. I built up quite an appetite this afternoon.” He chanced a sideways glance at Tabitha.
If she could, Tabitha would have run into the house. She felt the older woman’s stare boring into her, even as she answered her grandson.
“They will arrive at seven, so I recommend getting yourself ready.”
“Yes, Gran. I’ll just take the horse to the stable.”
Tabitha felt she needed to say something. “I shall also ready myself for the evening.”
Lady Holcombe nodded, then walked towards the house. When she was out of earshot, Andrew drew closer to Tabitha and whispered in her ear. “Think of me as you bathe.”
He had a sheepish grin on his face, and before she could respond, he quickly sauntered off to the stables.
Tabitha went to her bedchamber and asked for a bath to be drawn. As she waited, she replayed all Andrew had told her. He was more complex than anyone could imagine. Society had written him off as a womanizing gambler who had possibly murdered his brother. But there was not any doubt in Tabitha’s mind that Andrew was innocent of any wrongdoing. He was a product of his own demons, to some extent, when it came to his reputation as a rake. But even in that, it appeared, Andrew was trying to change.
During the journey to Essex, the dowager duchess had spoken endlessly about Andrew’s attributes and his drive to be successful. That need to be validated, to show that he was worth something persisted from his boyhood. Tabitha couldn’t help but want to tell Andrew that he was more important to her than any other man she’d ever met.
But she couldn’t. She had to think of Phillip. His life was on the line. What Tabitha wanted was of little consequence.
After the maid left from readying her bath, Tabitha sank into the hot water, breathing a sigh of contentment. She scrubbed the soap over her chest and remembered what Andrew had said. What would it be like to have his hands on her naked body? He could touch her anywhere, even in her most intimate of places. Just thinking about it made her breasts tingle, and a pulsing started between her legs. She wanted Andrew, there was no denying it, and she would enjoy every moment of their time together and look back on it fondly, because that’s all she would have—memories. There was no future for them.
* * *
The guestsfor the evening comprised the Westleys, old friends of the family, Reverend Shade, and the Castlemans, another prominent family in the area. It was a pleasant party. The Westleys especially were quite entertaining. Anyone could see they were still in love after almost thirty years of marriage.
Tabitha hoped she could someday have a relationship such as theirs. She glanced at Andrew, who was across the room talking to the reverend. If he ever found out what she planned, he would never forgive her. Which is why, after this visit, Tabitha would never see him again.
It might offend Andrew at first, being discarded, but like any man, he would find someone else to take her place. There were probably any number of women who would gladly warm his bed. Even though the idea made Tabitha’s heart heavy, she knew it was for the best. After a while, Andrew would forget about her and move on, while Tabitha would still recall the feel of his lips on hers.
She turned her attention to the older couples playing cards, sipping her tea, when Reverend Shade sat next to her. The older gentleman had a kindness about him and a soft-spoken tone that immediately made Tabitha feel at ease.
The reverend smiled. “How is your evening, Miss Crestwood? I hope you don’t find us country folk too dull compared to the exciting life of London.”
She laughed. “Oh, no, I have been thoroughly enjoying myself. I have found the country quite suits me. I adore the laid-back way of life. It’s quite pleasant, not the chaos of London.”
“I am happy to hear that. Some people find us rather lifeless and drab.”
“How could anyone think that? I haven’t laughed so much in a long time.”
“I’m glad to hear it. My reason for coming over was to ask you a favor. I was wondering, do you perhaps play the piano? I do so love music, and it’s been so long since I’ve heard anyone play.”
A smug look crossed Tabitha’s face. “As a matter of fact, I do, sir, and I would be happy to oblige.”
Tabitha went over to the piano in the corner, sat on the bench, and raised the lid. There was a fine layer of dust, showing the disuse of the instrument, but it was still in working order and not terribly out of tune. She thought about what song to play. A melancholy sonata? A lively jig? No, a soft, romantic piece to fit her mood, with a hint of sorrow to mirror her feelings.
She placed her fingers on the keys, allowing her instincts to take over. The piece was one of her favorites, a song from an opera. It was about love and loss and had always enthralled her, but this time, it was more personal. Tabitha was part of the song. It was her story now, and she poured her heart into the piece. She wanted Andrew to feel it too.
The song started out with harmonizing parts, like a pair of lovers, entwined together, two halves of one whole. As the piece progressed, the tempo and dynamics changed. A mild disconnect began between the two, the start of their downfall and the chaos that was to ensue. The music slowly crescendoed, growing louder, reflecting the anger and frustration. Tabitha’s heart twisted in agony, knowing that she too would have to part from the one man who had captured her heart. As the music flowed through Tabitha’s hands, she was almost moved to tears.
As the piece ended, it quieted to pianissimo and then faded. Tabitha could picture a lone woman, silhouetted against the dying day, resigned to the fact that she would never be with the one man she loved. Her hands trembled now that they were idle, so Tabitha hid them in her skirts.
When she finished, Tabitha glanced up and saw Andrew had moved to stand directly across from her at the piano. His eyes were riveted on her, as if he was peering straight into her heart to find her deepest, darkest secrets and desires.
