The Undoing Of A Lady

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

NAT WAS SHAKEN to discover how strong was the urge to go and find Lizzie as soon as Tom had left, to speak to her, to wake her even if she was sleeping. He knew he needed to tell her the truth at once before Tom had the chance to see her. Despite buying himself some time, he did not trust the man an inch.

Nat had begged for time from Tom not because he intended for one moment to give him the necklace, not because he wanted to keep the truth from Lizzie, but because he simply had to lull his brother-in-law into a false sense of security. He had to keep Tom away from Lizzie until he had the opportunity to tell her about the blackmail himself. Nat knew that Tom, in his cruelty and malice, would hurt Lizzie again, smash all the bright confidence that Nat had seen growing in her, trample her feelings in that hateful, careless way he had and destroy Lizzie’s happiness all over again. The thought of Tom harming Lizzie, crushing her spirit, made Nat furious.

He could see now that he had been mad and misguided to keep the truth from Lizzie for so long. He had thought he was doing the right thing in protecting her. He had not told her because he could not bear to disillusion her even further about her brother; news of Tom’s latest outrage and his extortion would surely wrench her to the heart. Nat had seen for years how much Lizzie had cared for Monty and Tom Fortune and felt angry and powerless in the light of their indifference toward their little sister. He had thought he could not add to Lizzie’s disenchantment by telling her even more of Tom’s sordid affairs. Yet now he could see only too clearly how his actions could be interpreted. Tom’s corrosive, spiteful words seemed to be all that he could hear:

“We have divided Lizzie up, you and I…Bought her, sold her…”

Nat went to the table and poured himself a glass of brandy, drinking it down in one gulp. It was true that he had needed Lizzie’s money to pay the blackmail but he had never for a single moment resolved to marry her just to thwart her brother. The idea was sick, twisted, but it had a kind of appalling logic. Under the Dames’ Tax Tom would have been entitled to half of his sister’s dowry. By carrying her off and marrying her against Tom’s wishes, Nat had cheated Tom of that twenty-five thousand pounds. Then he had paid Tom with Lizzie’s money. Oh, yes, Nat could see why Tom, with his warped and bitter mind would see his actions as no more than coldhearted revenge. But he did not care what Tom believed. The only thing that mattered was what Lizzie thought, and he had to explain to her, had to make it absolutely clear in a way that proved that he had never intended her to be an instrument of revenge against her brother. Everything between them was so new and so fragile. He would not let Tom despoil it.

He paced the room. He loved Lizzie. He knew that now with a clarity he only wished he had achieved earlier. He had been a fool, so unutterably slow to realize his feelings for her, so trapped by the way things had always been that he had not been able to see that everything had changed. He loved her gallantry and her courage and the way that she was maturing and growing into such a fine person. He was so proud of her that it made his heart ache to think of it. And he needed her, knowing that only Lizzie with all her defiance and her stubbornness and her spirit could fill his soul and banish the dark that had been left by his sister Charlotte’s death.

He saw that Alice had left him a note. She had written that Lizzie had woken, had taken some food and was resting. Nat had intended to go up to Lizzie as soon as he had returned home, but Tom Fortune had caught him just outside the house. Now, though, he knew he could not delay. Lizzie might be weak and tired after her fever, it was probably the very worst time to add to her woes, it was certainly the last thing he wanted to speak to her about when all he wanted to do was to hold her and tell her he loved her, but the matter could not be put off a moment longer.

Nat went out into the hallway and looked up the darkened stairwell. Not a sound. The house was still and quiet. Premonition stretched his nerves tight. For the first time he realized that Lizzie might have come down whilst Tom was there and that she might have heard their conversation. Nat had been forced to invite Tom inside, being unwilling to have such a loaded discussion in the street, but now, belatedly, he could see how dangerous that move might have been. But surely if Lizzie had overheard she would have burst in, challenged them and demanded to know what they were talking about? That was Lizzie’s way-to confront an issue not to run from it. Unless…Unless she had been so hurt and distraught to think that he had married her for no more than money and revenge that she had run from him. Gone without a word…

Even as the thought was in his mind Nat took the stairs two at a time and slammed open Lizzie’s door. The room was empty and quiet with the candle burning down on the chest and a blank piece of paper and pool of ink on the dressing table.

Nat felt the shock and dread drive all the breath from his body. He ran through the quiet house, down to the stables where the groom said that Lady Waterhouse had ridden out ten minutes before and no, he did not know which road she had taken.

The breath pounded in Nat’s chest and the shock and fear made his head ache. He had to find Lizzie. Where would she run? What would she do? She was barely recovered from her fever and should not be out riding about the countryside. He knew he had finally driven her away this time. In the past it had taken her so much strength and courage to stand and confront her issues. The only example she had ever had was of a mother who had run away from unhappiness and two brothers who indulged themselves indiscriminately.

Nat sent to Drum Castle, to Alice and Miles, and to The Old Palace, to Dexter and Laura, asking if they had seen Lizzie. It was far too late to pretend to his friends or indeed to anyone else that there was nothing wrong. He had made a terrible, monumental error in not trusting Lizzie with the truth sooner and he could only hope that when she had had a few hours to calm down she would come back and he could try to explain to her and they might begin anew.

That hope lasted as he rode out on all the tracks from Fortune’s Folly, searching for Lizzie hour after hour. It lasted when he called at all the alehouses and no one had seen her. It lasted until he reached Half Moon House on the road to Peacock Oak, where the landlady Josie Simmons was throwing the last of the late night drinkers out into the darkness.

“Lady Waterhouse?” she said. “Yes, she passed this way a couple of hours ago.” She jerked her head toward the stall where the horses were stirring. “Her mare is stabled there. She said she did not need her anymore. She went in a private carriage.”

Nat frowned. “A private carriage?” There was no way that Lizzie could have made an assignation because she had left so abruptly. Unless…The doubt slipped into his mind and could not be dislodged. Unless she had been thinking of leaving him all along and her discovery of the bargain he had made with Tom had simply precipitated her actions. She could have sent word to someone as soon as she left.

“Meet me at Half Moon House…”

But he could not believe it. Not Lizzie, fiercely loyal, courageous, admirable Lizzie. Not when she had told him in her fever that she loved him, not when they had started to build a future, not when there was so much he needed to explain, so many things he wanted to say to her…

“She went with Viscount Jerrold,” Josie Simmons said, extinguishing Nat’s hope like the snuffing of a candle. “They took the road to the south.”

LIZZIE SAT IN A CORNER of John Jerrold’s traveling coach and felt lonely and wretched and betrayed. The curtains of the carriage were drawn and inside it was almost as dark as out. The track was bad and the journey slow, but Jerrold had wanted to make as much progress as they could that night. Lizzie had not asked him why he was leaving Fortune’s Folly. She had barely spoken to him. When his carriage had pulled into the yard at Half Moon House she had scrambled in and begged to be taken wherever it was he was going, and had sat and shivered like a dog left out in the rain. Jerrold had asked no questions, had wrapped the blankets around her although their warmth seemed to do little to dispel her chill, and had passed her his brandy flask. She had drunk from it with gratitude and great appreciation, feeling the coldness in her bones ease a little although it seemed likely that the soreness of her heart would need more than the numbing of drink. This time, it seemed, not even the strongest brandy could dull the pain. It hurt too much.

“I’m leaving Nat,” she had announced baldly at one point, and Jerrold had laughed and said that he had rather thought she was, and they had lapsed into silence again. He had not asked her why; perhaps, Lizzie thought, he did not care. She had thrown herself at him-for she had got into his carriage in front of the entire alehouse and fully aware that it would be the final ruin of her reputation-and he was not going to ask any questions. There was tension in his silence and in the way that he watched her. She knew what would happen when they reached the next inn and stopped for the night.

She waited to feel something. She was about to betray her husband, break her wedding vows and give herself to another man. Surely she should feel some guilt? Yet no feelings came. There was nothing. Nothing but cold, black emptiness. She felt as though she was floating, tiptoeing lightly but inevitably, toward disaster. Her mind was numb. What did it matter what she did now? Nat did not love her and nothing else seemed remotely important. She had lost him. He had never truly been hers to lose. Gregory Scarlet had been right when he had said she was like her mother. Like the Countess of Scarlet she had pinned everything on her one true love, gambled and lost. Like her mother she would run away with second best-with a man who wanted her even if he was not the one she wanted.

They finally stopped in Keighley at the Crossed Hands. The inn was busy but the landlady, seeing quality, made a private room available to them at the top of the creaking stair. Lizzie sat down on the bed, realizing as she caught sight of herself in the mirror what a shocking fright she must look. She had no cloak or bonnet, her hair was awry and the diamond clasp long gone, and her gown was ripped and stained. She wished she cared but she looked at her reflection and saw a stranger looking back at her.

“Here you are, my lord, my lady.” The landlady’s eyes darted slyly from Lizzie to Jerrold and back. “A nice cozy room for you. Shall I send up some food?”

“Just some wine, thank you,” Jerrold said. Lizzie heard the chink of money changing hands. “Then you can leave us alone-and you have not seen us.”

“No, my lord,” the woman said. She dropped a curtsy.

The wine arrived quickly. Jerrold poured her a glass and Lizzie drank it down almost greedily but still she felt nothing other than a lassitude that stole all thought. It was too much of an effort to move, too much of an effort to do anything at all. John Jerrold came across and sat next to her on the bed. He took the glass from her hand and placed it on the table. She watched his movements and they seemed so slow, as though everything took so long to happen, her seduction unraveling before her eyes with agonizing detail. She could not feel, could not think. Jerrold kissed her. He was good at it. She had known he would be. She remembered that a month or so ago-was it so recently? It felt like an age-she had been tempted to go out onto the terrace at the Wheelers’ house with John Jerrold to see if he was any good at kissing. And now she knew.

Yet still she did not feel anything. Jerrold turned her around so that her back was to him and put his hand beneath the fall of her hair, his fingers cool on her nape. Lizzie closed her eyes and thought of Nat tracing his fingers down her neck and down the curve of her bare back, and she shivered. Jerrold’s hand had gone to the laces of her gown. She felt the ribbons give and the bodice ease, and then it fell apart and Jerrold’s hand was on her bare skin and she thought of Nat sliding his hands over her body and suddenly her feelings came alive with such force that she gasped. The pain hit her so hard and so fast that she almost cried aloud in anguish. She grabbed the bodice of the gown to her breasts and spun around.

“I can’t do this!” She stopped, looking at the expression on John Jerrold’s face. “My God,” she said slowly as she saw the look in his eyes. “Neither can you.”

Jerrold’s expression eased into rueful amusement. “Actually I think I could,” he said, “but I’ll allow it is more difficult than I had thought.”

“I love Nat,” Lizzie said. She gulped in a breath. “Whatever he has done, I still love him. I’m so sorry, Johnny.” She felt stricken, desperate. “I did not mean to be a tease,” she said painfully. “I don’t know what happened to me, but I can’t make love with you because I cannot bear to betray Nat. I love him so much.”

“I think I knew that really,” Jerrold said wryly.

“Fasten my gown up so that we can talk,” Lizzie said, spinning around again. “I cannot hold a conversation like this.”

“A pity,” Jerrold said, the amusement returning to his voice. He tied her laces. “I could definitely have done it,” he added, his hands lingering on her bare shoulders. “Damn it, Lizzie…”

Lizzie slapped his hands away. She felt wretched with misery over Nat but at the same time a small spark of spirit had kindled inside her. It made everything hurt like the devil but at least she was feeling again.

“It’s too late for that,” she said. She looked at Jerrold, at the fall of his fair hair over his brow and the wicked light in his narrowed eyes and she sighed. “You make the perfect rake, Johnny, but I cannot let you seduce me.” She put her head on one side. “Nor do I think your heart is really in this. Tell me what was so difficult for you. Was it because I’m married?”

Jerrold laughed. “That’s never stopped me before.” His smile vanished. “No, it’s nothing to do with you. You’re beautiful and I like you very much and I thought that I wanted you, but-” He stopped and ran a hand over his hair. “Devil take it, Lizzie, I think I’m in love, too, and it is the most damnable thing.”

Lizzie’s eyes grew huge. “You’re in love with Lydia!” she burst out. She pressed a hand to her mouth. “I thought that you liked her when first she came to Fortune’s Folly last year. Oh, that is bad, for Lydia will never give you a chance. She has been so hurt by Tom I doubt she will ever trust a man again.” She broke off. “Sorry,” she said. “That isn’t very helpful.”

“No,” Jerrold said, “but it is accurate.” He picked up his wineglass. “I have been trying not to kill your brother for months,” he added conversationally. “It is very difficult, for I hate him more than any man on earth.”

“There’s a long queue,” Lizzie said. “You’ll have to wait your turn.” She sighed. “Don’t give up on Lydia. When we go back to Fortune’s Folly I’ll help you-” She stopped dead.

“You’re thinking,” Jerrold said, “that you can’t go back. You have run away from your husband and by now everyone will have heard that you are with me and that you are ruined.”

“Yes,” Lizzie said. “And I am thinking that although I love Nat with all my heart, he does not love me and nothing can change that.”

“Tell me about it,” Jerrold said, smiling at her. “Perhaps I can help. After all, we’ve got all night.”

NAT’S HEAD HURT. His body hurt. Everywhere hurt. Even in the worst excesses of his youth he had not appreciated that alcohol could have such a devastating effect. Then he remembered that he had not taken any drink. As memory rushed in, irresistible and damnably painful, everything started to come back to him. He had lost Lizzie. Hurt and confused by his betrayal, she had run off with John Jerrold. The grief crashed through him again and he closed his eyes and wished for oblivion.

Oblivion did not arrive. Gradually Nat’s senses started to register information, whether he wanted it or not. He appeared to be lying on sawdust and rough stone. The floor was cold beneath his cheek. There was a sour smell in his nostrils, a smell of damp and neglect. He could hear water dripping. He raised his head, groaned, and let it fall again. He could hear voices above his head. Someone said:

“For pity’s sake, Waterhouse…”

It sounded like Miles Vickery.

Nat opened his eyes again and saw a pair of highly polished boots. Definitely Miles. He wished his friend would go away.

Someone hauled him to his feet. Dexter Anstruther this time. Damn it, why couldn’t they leave him alone? He blinked at them, squinting to get them in focus. His head was throbbing as though he had taken too much cheap wine. He tried to form some words.

“What time is it? Where am I?”

“It is eleven o’clock and you are in Skipton gaol,” Dexter said. “You were arrested last night for breach of the peace.” He pushed Nat down onto a wooden chair. Nat winced as various bruises and cuts made their presence felt.

“You’d better start talking and it had better be good,” Miles said, his face tight and white with fury. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere after we got your message last night. What the hell are you doing here and what’s been going on? Where’s Lizzie? And why is Tom Fortune telling anyone who’ll listen that he has been blackmailing you to the tune of twenty-five thousand pounds?”

“Because he has been,” Nat said. “It’s true.” He put a hand up to his head. It seemed the only way to support it.

“You bloody fool,” Miles said with blistering contempt.

“You were a blackmailer yourself once,” Nat said bitterly. For a moment he felt so angry and violent that he almost considered knocking Miles down. But to lose his friends as well as his wife would only make him feel worse. It wasn’t Miles’s fault that he was telling him some long overdue home truths. And besides, he was not sure he could stand up straight enough to hit anyone.

“So?” Miles said coldly. “That does not make it right.”

“Never mind that now,” Dexter said, always the peacemaker. “We’ll sort it out. We’ll get you out of here, too. Nat.” His voice changed, grew more urgent. “Where is Lizzie? Tom is also saying that she found out you married her for revenge and that she has left you. The on dit in the village is that she has run off with John Jerrold.”

“It’s true,” Nat said again. “I was out all night looking for her, but I do not know where they have gone.”

It was all coming back to him now. He remembered his anguished and exhausting hunt through the night, taking the road to Skipton, searching through all the inns and boardinghouses on the way in the vain hope that he would find Lizzie. No one had seen her; no one knew anything. As he drew a blank at each place so his despair had grown. Lizzie and John Jerrold…He could not bear to think of it. It tore him apart, ripped to shreds all the newly discovered love and tenderness he had for her. He had had no idea he could feel like this nor that it could hurt so very much.

By the time he had arrived in Skipton late the previous night he had been almost beside himself with anguish and worry. He had found the town awake and feverish with the Goose Fair celebrations and had been in the Market Square when the night had erupted into a full-scale riot. The alehouses had emptied and more and more men had piled into the fight. Despite trying to calm matters, Nat had found himself plunged into a brawl and then ignominiously dragged off to cool his heels in gaol with the malefactors, a disastrous end to his night’s search.

Nat grimaced. When Richard Ryder, the Home Secretary, heard what had happened he would be furious. It was perhaps a good job that he was planning to resign his post before he was sacked.

Dexter and Miles exchanged a look. Miles’s face was still white and tight with fury. “I have known you a long time, Nathaniel,” Miles said, and his eyes were so cold that Nat almost shivered, “and so I feel that I can say without fear of reprisal or contradiction that you are the most abject fool in Christendom.”

“Miles,” Dexter intervened, “is this really the time and place-”

“Damn right it is,” Miles said. “He’s an idiot and someone should tell him. Lizzie has no father-and only a poor excuse for a brother-to protect her, so I will take the role.” He gave Nat a tight smile. “Yes, even I can see the irony of me preaching morality to others, but…” He took a deep breath. “None of us can keep silent any longer, Nat. You must be the only person in the whole of Fortune’s Folly who has not realized that Lizzie has been in love with you for months and you have ridden roughshod over her feelings and emotions with a wilful cruelty that can only remind her of how little people have cared for her throughout her entire life!”

“I know,” Nat said. “I know.” He felt wretched. “I did not intend it to be like this,” he added. “I’ve been trying to do the right thing. I love her, too.”

“Then find her!” Miles bellowed. “What are you waiting for? Why are we even having this conversation? Damn it, man, get out there-”

“Don’t shout,” Dexter said. “You’ll make his headache worse. Besides, we’ve got to get him out of gaol first.” He looked at Nat. “Go and douse yourself under the pump in the yard. You look appalling. If Lizzie sees you like that she won’t want you back.”

He slapped Nat on the back and all Nat’s bruises winced in response.

“Come on,” Dexter said, not unkindly. “You have a wife to claim.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“BACK ALREADY, EH?” Josie Simmons said, as Lizzie collected Starfire from Half Moon House that afternoon. “And wearing the same clothes as you were yesterday.” She shook her head at Lizzie, her expression suggesting that she had seen any number of unfaithful aristocratic ladies come a cropper. “Your husband was here last night looking for you,” she added. “I told him you’d gone with Lord Jerrold.”

“How kind of you,” Lizzie said. “I really do appreciate that.”

“Whole village knows now,” Josie said with what seemed to Lizzie to be grim satisfaction. “Never seen a man so distraught as Lord Waterhouse,” she added. “Except perhaps Major Falconer when he thought Mrs. Falconer would refuse to marry him. Or Mr. Anstruther,” she continued, “when he found out that Mrs. Anstruther had been a highwaywoman.” She sighed massively and placed her hands on her hips. “Any road, he was proper upset was Lord Waterhouse,” she said. “She’s a bolter,” I told him, “just like her mama. Sees a man and goes after him like a dog after a rabbit-”

“No, I am not,” Lizzie said, jumping up onto Starfire’s back. “A bolter runs away. She doesn’t run back again.”

“Aye well,” Josie said, “you might be right there, milady. Hope your husband sees it that way. You’ll be wanting to creep back meek and quiet and beg his forgiveness, I’ll wager.”

“I’ve never been meek and quiet in my life,” Lizzie said, “and I am not going to start now.”

She kicked Starfire to a gallop down the track to Fortune’s Folly. She felt exhilarated, excited and dreadfully nervous, but through her anxiety and her desperation she clung on to the thought that Nat had been distraught at her disappearance. He had been searching frantically for her, according to Josie. That must mean that he cared for her a little even if he was angry, and believed she had betrayed him. She shivered. She would never be able to prove that she had not been unfaithful with John Jerrold. Nat would have to trust her, to take her word. She wondered if he was generous enough, strong enough, to do that.

The previous night Jerrold had helped her to see that running away could never be the answer. The truth might be painful; it might not be what she wanted to hear but Lizzie knew she had to be courageous and face it. So she knew she had to talk to Nat, to beg him to explain Tom’s blackmail. In her heart there was renewed hope that they could finally lay all their secrets to rest and this time she would notlet it be extinguished. She would fight for what she wanted. She was not like her mother. Nat was the one person she was no longer prepared to lose.

“I won’t come with you,” Jerrold had said to her as he had put her into a hired carriage in the inn yard that morning. “I doubt my presence would help soothe the situation and I have no desire for your husband to put a bullet through me.” He had kissed her cheek. “I know I can trust you to explain to him that I behaved with honor. Be happy,” he had added as he slammed the door and gave the coachman the order to move off.

Lizzie galloped down Fortune’s Folly High Street, scattering the crowds like chaff, hearing the gasps of shock and speculation and seeing the scandalized faces of the crowd. So the news was already out. Josie had been right-gossip spread faster than the plague in Fortune’s Folly and no doubt Tom would have fanned the flames by telling everyone she had run away just like her mother.

At Chevrons she discovered that Nat was from home and had not been back since the previous night. Her appearance at the house caused a minor sensation; her maid screamed on seeing her and threw her apron over her head

“Oh milady!” The girl gasped, “They are saying such terrible things about you! They say you ran off with a handsome lord and that you are a bolter just like your mama, and they are taking bets in the Morris Clown Inn that Lord Waterhouse will divorce you! Your brother has staked a thousand pounds on it! Oh, milady!”

“Thank you, Clara,” Lizzie said. “This is one bet I will ram down Tom’s throat until he chokes on it.” Even so, the nerves that had been tormenting her ever since she had set off home from the inn at Keighley did an extra large somersault in her stomach. Would Nat divorce her for her supposed adultery? The panic closed her throat. That was what had happened to Lady Scarlet and the shame and dishonor had been appalling. Lizzie had wept for her mother every day whilst the lurid court case was dragged through the newspapers and penny prints, each detail more sordid and humiliating than the last. She could not believe Nat would do such a thing to her.

In an agony of impatience and anxiety she dashed out of the house again. She simply could not sit at home and wait for Nat to return. She had to do something, so in the end she called at The Old Palace to see if Laura or Dexter knew where Nat had gone. There was no answer to her pull on the bell, though she could hear the jangle of it echo deep inside the building. Carrington the butler did not shuffle up to see who was calling. No one came.

Deeply disappointed, Lizzie turned to go and then, suddenly, the door was flung wide and Alice Vickery stood on the threshold. She looked hot, harassed and flustered and when she saw Lizzie her hopeful expression melted into one of deep disappointment.

“Lizzie! Oh, no! I was so hoping that you were Dr. Salter!”

“Alice,” Lizzie said, catching her friend’s arm, “please, I need your help. Do you know where Nat is? I must see him.”

Alice did not respond immediately and Lizzie felt chilled. She had known that her friends must also have heard the gossip, but if they did not believe her innocent, if they would not help her, then all truly was lost.

“I know things look bad,” she said desperately. “I know you will have heard terrible scandal about me, but I swear I did not betray Nat with John Jerrold! Oh, I was stupid and hurt and I behaved badly but I need to find Nat and tell him I love him and explain everything-” She stopped as Alice looked at her as though seeing her for the first time.

“Oh, Lizzie,” Alice said, grabbing her hands, “I want to help you-of course I do-but I cannot do so now! There is no time. Laura and Lydia both went into labor some time ago and they are about to give birth and Dr. Salter is attending a confinement over near Peacock Oak and the midwife is with him, and lord knows how long they will be gone and in the meantime I am alone here with the servants and none of us know what to do!” She looked despairing. “We have boiled some water and found clean towels but what to do with them-” She shrugged hopelessly.

“Laura and Lydia have both gone into labor at the same time?” Lizzie repeated, so stunned by the news that she momentarily forgot her own troubles. “What are the odds against that?”

“I don’t know!” Alice snapped. “I don’t have time to calculate odds right now.” Lizzie heard a wailing noise float down the stairs toward them, followed by the sound of Rachel, the maid, with an edge of hysteria to her voice, exhorting calm. “That’s Lydia,” Alice said. “Oh Lizzie-” Her blue eyes were frightened now. “What shall we do?”

“Where are Dexter and Miles?” Lizzie demanded, following her into the hall.

“They are out looking for you!” Alice said. “They found Nat in gaol in Skipton this morning. I have just had word from them. Apparently Nat had been searching for you all night and ended up in a brawl. Nat of all people! Anyway, I have sent Carrington out to fetch them back. Laura keeps asking for Dexter.” She bit her lip. “Lydia has no one,” she finished softly.

A sort of fatalistic calm took hold of Lizzie. She had absolutely no idea about childbirth, either, for its secrets were shrouded in mystery that was hidden from the uninitiated. A part of her wanted to leave Alice and to ride out to find Nat-Nat who had spent the entire night looking for her-but she knew she could not do that to her friends. They needed her now. Everything else would have to wait.

“Lydia has me,” she said. “I am the baby’s aunt.” She squared her shoulders. “Very well then, Alice. We shall have to deal with this ourselves.” She gave Alice a little shake. “Laura has done it before, so she knows what happens-”

“I don’t think that helps, judging by the things that Laura is saying in between the swearing,” Alice said miserably.

“First we send for Josie Simmons,” Lizzie continued firmly. “She used to be a midwife before she became the landlady of Half Moon House. Send Frank on a fast horse. He can take mine. I know he is the gardener, but he rides well. Then send someone for your mama, Alice. She is only next door and she has given birth to two children, so she must know what to do.”

“Mama is hopeless in a crisis,” Alice said, staring at her.

“Well, she will be good in this one,” Lizzie said decisively. “I have a feeling she will do us proud. Go!” She gave Alice a little push and then when she had made sure that her friend had hurried off she turned toward the stair. As she put her foot on the bottom tread there was a scream from above that almost made her turn and run, then she stiffened her spine. She had lost so many people. She hoped she would not lose Nat, too. What was certain was that she would not lose Lydia and Laura, two of her best friends, through ignorance or folly or neglect. She would give her last breath to help them even though she had little real idea what she must do. She was praying very hard as she ran up the stairs, harder than she had ever prayed before in her life.

WALKING INTO THE Crossed Hands Inn in Keighley, Nat Waterhouse was assailed by the now familiar and deeply repulsive smell of ale and sweat. He doubted that he would ever want to drink a pint of beer again. He had seen the inside of every inn on the road from Skipton to Keighley and he hated the lot of them, but on the way he had picked up news of a traveling coach with two occupants, one of whom was a flame-haired woman of staggering beauty and he had known that it was Lizzie.

There was only one occupant of the taproom at the Crossed Hands, a man sitting in the corner by the window placidly drinking a glass of brandy and reading the newspaper. As Nat came in he rose to his feet.

“Waterhouse,” he said. “I thought you would come.”

Nat, dragging up every ounce of civilized behavior he could muster and finding it exceedingly difficult, just about managed not to hit him across the room.

“Jerrold,” he said. He looked around. “Where is Lizzie?”

His mind was already conjuring up images, unbearable, intolerable pictures of Lizzie lying in bed upstairs, naked, sated and blissful, having shared a night of tempestuous passion with her lover. His fingers itched to take Jerrold by his immaculately tied neck cloth and murder him without further ado. He had played this moment over and over in his head, time and again, telling himself that if he really loved Lizzie and she wanted to be with Jerrold and not with him, he should let her go. Perhaps a more generous man would indeed free his wife so that she could be happy. But Nat was damned if he was going to let Lizzie go without a fight.

He waited in an agony of suspense for what seemed an hour and then saw the self-deprecating smile that twisted Jerrold’s lips.

“Lady Waterhouse has gone back to Fortune’s Folly,” Jerrold said. “She didn’t want to be with me. She has gone to find you, Waterhouse. Good luck,” he added, ruefully, to the empty room.

Nat had already gone.

WHEN DEXTER ANSTRUTHER, Miles Vickery and Nat Waterhouse arrived at The Old Palace some three hours later, accompanied by an exhausted and tottering Carrington, they found the place in uproar. Dr. Salter and the midwife, Mrs. Elton, had only just arrived. Josie Simmons and Alice’s mother, Mrs. Lister, were sitting on the stairs with the maids Rachel and Molly and Frank the gardener, and appeared to be working their way through the contents of their fourth bottle of brandy while the other bottles rolled empty on the flagstone floor below.

“Ah!” Josie said, lumbering to her feet as Dexter ran into the hall. “Mr. Anstruther! Late again! Quick enough to do the deed-” she cackled, nudging Mrs. Lister “-but slow to wet the baby’s head!” She waved the half-empty brandy bottle at him in salute.

“Laura?” Dexter said. “Is she-”

“She’s fine,” Josie said heartily, slapping him on the back so hard Dexter almost fell over. “Dr. Salter is with her now, but he says there are no problems. I did a grand job though I say so myself, and the ladies were splendid! Not a swoon in sight!”

Nat was looking around for Lizzie, but in the chaos of The Old Palace she was nowhere to be seen. He had already called at Chevrons to be told by the breathlessly excited maid that Lady Waterhouse had returned and had ridden out to look for him. Nat rather hoped that Lizzie was here or they would be chasing each other across the county for days.

He saw Alice coming slowly down the stairs toward them, a bundle in her arms. Her face was radiant. She smiled at Miles as though she had been given the sun and the moon and the stars and held out the bundle to Dexter.

“A son for you, Dexter,” she said. “Congratulations.”

Dexter was at her side in a second, drawing aside the swaddling clothes to touch the baby’s face with a reverent finger. His son’s tiny rosebud mouth opened and a loud wail emerged.

Mrs. Elton bustled forward. “Give him to me, Lady Vickery,” she commanded, taking the baby from Alice and bending over to admire him. “The little lamb! My, look at the size of him! Poor Mrs. Anstruther. No wonder she is exhausted!”

Laura and Dexter’s daughter Hattie rushed forward and Dexter swung her up into his arms.

“I’ve got a brother!” Hattie said importantly. “May we go and see Mama now, Papa?”

“Yes,” Dexter said. “Yes, we shall go at once.”

Nat could hear the catch in his voice and felt a rush of emotion. Devil take it, there was something about this childbirth business that quite unmanned him. He looked across at Miles to see if he was suffering the same problem, but Miles was kissing Alice and paying no attention to anything else at all.

Dexter and Hattie set off up the stairs and Josie turned to Nat.

“You’ll be looking for your lady wife, no doubt,” she said. “She’s with Miss Cole. I don’t know how the poor girl would have managed without her. Lady Waterhouse gave her the strength and the spirit to go through with it, I reckon-” She stopped.

Nat looked up and saw that Lizzie was coming down the stairs. Like Alice she was holding a small bundle in her arms and she had a huge smile on her face.

“I have a niece!” she said. She sounded so happy and so proud that Nat felt the emotion rip through him again. “She is the most beautiful baby!” She saw Nat and stopped dead.

There was a long silence. Lizzie’s eyes were enormous, her face suddenly pale. She came hesitantly down the last few steps and Nat went across to meet her. He could see that her eyes were swimming with tears now. He remembered the broken words she had whispered in her fever and the desperate longing for a child that was in her heart. He reached out and touched her cheek with fingers that suddenly shook.

“I hear you were splendid,” he said softly.

“I came back to find you,” Lizzie said. Her voice was shaking, too. She looked down at the bundle in her arms. “I…Somehow I became diverted.” She smiled suddenly, dazzlingly. Nat’s heart lurched with love. “This is Elizabeth,” she said shyly.

“Elizabeth?” Nat said. He felt his heart catch as he looked down into his wife’s face. “Lydia named the baby for you?”

Lizzie nodded. “Elizabeth Laura Alice Cole,” she said.

The whoops from the hall behind them became louder as Josie and Mrs. Lister and the servants started their fifth bottle of brandy and with it a round of elaborate toasts to the babies. Alice came over and took the baby from Lizzie’s arms.

“I will take little Beth back up to her mother and sit with Lydia a while,” Alice said, holding the baby in the crook of her arm. She smiled at Miles.

“You are an expert already,” Miles said, his eyes gleaming as they rested on her and the sleeping child. “Hmm. If you wish us to set up our own nursery, Alice, you need only say the word and I am at your service.”

“Actually…” Alice said, blushing peony-red, “I think I might already-”

Miles caught her and kissed her hard. “Don’t squash the baby!” Alice chided, as she emerged ruffled and even pinker from her husband’s embrace.

Nat grabbed Lizzie’s hand and pulled her through the door into the library. And suddenly it was quiet and it was just the two of them and the rest of the world was shut out.

“Lizzie,” Nat said. His voice sounded rough to his own ears. He closed the distance between them until she was less than a heartbeat away. “You came back.”

“Yes,” Lizzie said. “Nat, I need to tell you-”

“Let me speak first,” Nat said. He felt as though his heart would burst with everything he wanted to say to her, with all the love he had for her. “Please, Lizzie.”

Lizzie waited. Her face was white. Nat could hear her breath coming quick and light.

“I don’t care what’s happened,” Nat said. He felt as though he was teetering on the edge of a precipice, fearful that with a single wrong word she would be lost to him forever. But he had to say what was in his heart. “You came back to me,” he said. “I love you. I don’t care about John Jerrold. I don’t care what happened with him. All I want is you, Lizzie.”

“Nat,” Lizzie said. She sounded shaken to her soul. “Oh, Nat.”

“Don’t say anything,” Nat said, catching her hands and drawing her to him. He could feel them both shaking. “You must understand. I made a terrible mistake in not trusting you with the truth about Tom’s blackmail and I am sorry for it. It was entirely my fault. I was trying to protect you, but instead I drove you away. But you must believe that I never sought revenge through you, Lizzie.”

He gripped her hands tighter. “I want only you and I love you for yourself alone,” he said. “When you were in your fever you spoke of love, Lizzie. You said that you wanted someone who would love you forever and would never leave you nor betray you.” He sought her gaze with his. “I am that man you once spoke of, Lizzie. I am the one that you wanted, and if you trust me I will never hurt you ever again. I swear it on my life.”

“Let me speak now,” Lizzie said. The tears were running down her face, huge tears that plopped onto Laura’s worn carpet, making the colors bright. “Nothing happened with John Jerrold, Nat.” She gulped in a breath. “I only turned to him because I was so unhappy. Then I realized that I couldn’t go through with it, I wasn’t like my mother after all. I could not accept second best because all I wanted was you. The only man I ever loved was you.” She freed herself, resting her palms against his chest and looking up into his face with candid eyes. “I realized then that I had to come back and talk to you,” she said, “and find out the truth about Tom, because I could not throw away the most precious thing I ever had.”

Relief and sheer, blazing joy smashed through Nat and then his arms went about her and he kissed her, pressing feverish kisses across her cheek and brow, until he found her lips at last and she gave a little sigh and melted closer into his arms. And then all was quiet between them for a very long time and not even the sound of the increasingly drunken revels outside the door could penetrate their happiness.

LATER, LYING COCOONED IN their bed in the aftermath of lovemaking and in the hot darkness of the Fortune Folly summer night, they talked. They lay as close as when they had made love. For a while they had both drifted from fulfilment into sleep but they awoke together and Nat held Lizzie with proud possession as well as love.

“I was such a fool not to tell you about Tom’s blackmail,” Nat said. “I only gave into it in the first place to protect Celeste and my parents, and because I could see no way out. I kept it from you because I wanted to protect you from this latest example of Tom’s wickedness and instead I gave him the means to ruin our happiness.”

“I suppose Tom seduced Celeste, the blackguard,” Lizzie said. She was feeling so light and free, so blissful that nothing could touch her happiness now, and yet she still had space in her heart to feel Celeste Waterhouse’s pain. She rested her head on Nat’s chest and felt the warmth of his body and his love envelop her. There were no doubts or fears now. They had banished them forever.

“I could not understand how a man like you could succumb to blackmail,” she said, “but I can see that you had to protect your family.”

“I thought so,” Nat said. He shook his head. “Perhaps I was wrong in what I did. But Tom did not seduce Celeste, Lizzie. He found her in a compromising situation-a very compromising situation-with another debutante. He had witnesses, and such scurrilous and damning tales of what they were doing together that I…” He shrugged uneasily. “Well, it would have been the scandal of the season had it got out and I know it would have killed my father. I simply could not allow that to happen. I love my sister and I have to protect her.”

“A woman,” Lizzie said. She could see what Nat meant. Such things were never spoken of outside the brothels and bawdy houses of London. It was as though they did not exist, though everyone knew that they did. For such a scandal to take place in the Ton would have been the most shocking, the most outrageous piece of tittle-tattle for years.

“Poor Celeste,” she said softly. “Poor, poor girl.”

Nat drew her closer to his body and Lizzie stretched, luxuriating in the warmth and intimacy of their connection.

“In some twisted way I think I have been trying to make up for failing Charlotte all those years ago,” Nat said softly, after a moment. “I felt that I could never allow myself to fail again. I had to protect everyone-Celeste, my parents and you, too.” He cupped Lizzie’s face in tender hands. “I thought that if you knew of the blackmail, of this latest piece of cruelty on Tom’s part, you would be utterly destroyed,” he said. “You had already lost Monty, scoundrel though he was, and even before you told me how you felt about your family, I knew that you cared deeply for your undeserving brothers. Love has no rhyme or reason-” He pressed a kiss on her hair, moving one hand softly over her tumbled curls. “And I could not bear for Tom to injure you even more. So I kept quiet, wanting to shield you from harm. And in the process I hurt you very much because of my apparent lack of trust in you. I am sorry, Lizzie. Will you accept that I never married you to revenge myself on Tom and that I wanted more than anything to care for you?”

Lizzie raised her hand to his lean cheek, feeling the stubble rough against her fingers. “I do accept it,” she whispered. “I knew in my heart that you were honorable, Nat, but I felt so shocked and deceived when I overheard you talking to Tom.”

“I was trying to buy time,” Nat said, “so that I could tell you myself about the blackmail. I was terrified Tom would blurt it all out to you first and that you would misunderstand and hate me for it.”

“I did,” Lizzie said, “but not for long.” She brought his head down to hers so that she could kiss him. “Enough of the past,” she said gently. “We can let it go now.”

They washed the memories away with kisses, soft and sweet. The drowsy press of Nat’s body against hers was the most tender thing Lizzie had ever experienced. Nat brushed the hair away from her brow.

“Miles told me I was a fool,” he whispered, “and he was right. I have loved you for so long, Lizzie darling, and I could not even see it. All I ever wanted was to care for you and protect you. I admired you. I was so proud of you and I could not see all my feelings were but facets of my love for you.” He drew away a little. “I am sorry about the baby,” he said gruffly. “I wish you had told me.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Lizzie said. “I can wait. Now I know I have you.”

She remembered telling Alice she had wanted a child to bind her closer to Nat, but now that she knew his whole heart, that his whole life was hers, she felt strangely serene and patient. It was a new sensation. There was no hurry. She could see that now. Whatever came to pass, she had Nat beside her, and that was the only thing that mattered now. Perhaps in time she would be able to build the family she wanted; the one that she herself had been denied. She did not know, but she had Nat and he loved her and that was more than enough.

“Although,” she added thoughtfully, moving her hand over the flat plane of Nat’s stomach and down, “I do not mind trying to make a baby whenever you wish…”

Nat rolled over lazily, drawing her beneath him. His mouth moved from her lips to the line of her throat, gentle kisses that caressed her even as his hands roamed over her body worshipping every curve and hollow. Previously there had been nothing but passion between them and Lizzie had understood that, but this felt different. Now there was a need to give and give again with generosity and love. She felt it for Nat and knew he felt the same for her, and at last she experienced the depth and power of his love for her.

“I love you,” he murmured as he slid inside her with infinite gentleness, “I will always love you, Lizzie. Lizzie,” he repeated, “my love, my life.”

“I love you, too,” Lizzie said. She remembered all the times she had held back from telling him. Her pride had come between them. Her fear of the inequality in their feelings had kept them apart but now there was no more reason to hide and no more secrets to keep. She moved restlessly beneath his hands and her body quickened with the pleasure he could always give her but now it was love returned as well as pleasure given, deep and searing in its intensity.

“You’re impatient still,” Nat murmured, laughing, as he rocked within her, tantalizing and slow, and Lizzie gasped and pulled him to her for a kiss that stole her soul. “Some things will never change.”

“You are no better,” Lizzie whispered, her skin slick against his in the heat of the night, the tide running strong between them again now, “though you pretend-the conventional Earl of Waterhouse, so proper, so passionless. I should have realized from the first when I knew what a terribly cross disposition you had. I should have known such temper could only be matched with such passion-” She broke off on another gasp as Nat moved again, his mouth at her breast now, shocking and sweet. The desire twisted within her, driving her higher. This time it was a matter of slow, shimmering, exquisite delight and afterward Nat wrapped her in his arms and held her and she knew she had come home at last. The nightmares were gone. The tragedy of her mother’s lost love had at last been balanced by her love found.

“No more running away,” Nat said. “I never want to lose you again.”

“Why should I run?” Lizzie said. “My heart is here. It is yours. Now and forever.”