Flora was astonished at the sudden sense of serenity she felt upon hearing his words. How right he was. How selfish of her to be thinking of no one but herself when her thoughts should be of her poor husband.
As the sounds of a cantering horse grew louder—no doubt Louisa's—Flora stood and smoothed her skirt. "Thank you, Lord Lynd, I feel better."
"Fine, then." He stood with a casual air. "Shall we get back to our horses?"
"Good idea." She tried to sound casual, too, and not let him know how, for one moment there, her senses had spun nearly out of control when she'd been in his arms and smelled the warmth of his flesh. It had been, she was loath to admit, absolutely intoxicating.
Chapter 13
London
A few nights later, Sidney was dining alone at Watier's when he heard a familiar voice call his name. Looking up, he concealed a frown. "Good evening, Richard," he said none too cordially. He had hoped to avoid his old friend during his latest stay in London.
Richard, jovial as ever, clapped him on the back. "Why didn't you let me know you were in London?"
"Just arrived."
Just escaped
was more like it, Sidney mused. That last meeting with Flora had been so excruciating—so downright painful—he'd been forced to place himself as far away from her as possible.
"May I join you?" Richard sat down uninvited and regarded Sidney's plate. "Ah, the
Filet de Rouget au Basilic
. An excellent choice. So tell me the latest."
Sidney concealed a resigned sigh. "What 'latest' are you referring to?"
"The latest about my cousin, of course. And the new bride. Carry on, I am all ears."
"As a matter of fact, I was their guest at dinner a few nights ago."
"Cousin Charles is well?"
"He's fine. It's a pity you're estranged, else you could find out firsthand."
A look of deep concern crossed Richard's face—most unusual for him. "It appears I am persona non grata at home, although I most certainly don't deserve his ire. The thing with Lady Flora was not my fault, actually."
"Why is it nothing is ever your fault?" Hearing the sharp edge to his voice, Sidney advised himself not to show his disgust. No point in arguing with Richard. He would never understand. To his surprise, his friend refrained from giving one of his usual unctuous answers. Instead, he frowned and remarked, "I'm in trouble."
"You? Surely you're jesting."
"Yes, well..." Richard bit his lip. "It's Dinsmore. You know how displeased he is. I'm concerned about my inheritance."
"You're the only heir, aren't you? What is there to worry about?"
"Oh, I know he'd never disown me, but..." Squint lines of worry bracketed Richard's eyes. For a moment he actually looked desperate. "The entailments, Sidney
. If he had a mind to, he could tie up my land for my entire lifetime."
"So?" Sidney took no pains to conceal his exasperation. "Bear in mind, the estate's not yours yet and won't be for some time, God willing. Besides, why should you care if it's entailed? You're not planning on selling off the family land, are you?"
"Matter of fact, I am." Richard squirmed uncomfortably in his chair. "Not all of it, of course, but some. If you must know, I'm under the hatches."
"No surprise. I've heard you practically live at White's."
"Yes, well, even the best player is subject to the whims of fortune. I plan to cut back."
"What about the countess? Rumor has it you're in her good graces again."
Richard nodded dubiously. "There's still the possibility, I 'spose. Trouble is, the woman's impossibly erratic. Flits from one man to another."
"You must be shocked by such infidelity."
Richard, who usually enjoyed a touch of irony, did not respond in kind. "Have your little joke, but I tell you I'm getting close to desperation. I used to laugh at those poor wretches who got so deep in debt they were forced to flee England. I'm not laughing anymore." Richard's eyes went wide with anxiety. "That could be me, Sidney. At the rate I'm losing money, I, too, could be living all alone in some miserable foreign country, cramped in some squalid garret, cold, starving, spending my declining my years in abject poverty."
"Are you saying—?" Despite himself, Sidney began to feel compassion for his friend.
"I am saying I must get in my cousin's good graces again. If I don't, Lord knows what he'll do. Which leads me to ask...I'd like a favor."
He might have known. "If you want me to speak to Lord Dinsmore, the answer is no. You and I are still friends, despite your abominable behavior, but if you want me to persuade him what a fine fellow you are, I'd sooner choke."
"Hmm." Gazing into space, Richard beat a worried tattoo with his fingers upon the linen tablecloth. "Flora then." He shifted his gaze to Sidney. "Is she pining away for me?"
Curse the man
. "Last I saw her, she was happy as a lark, enjoying married life immensely."
"Even so, I doubt she's forgotten me. I do believe I shall enlist her help. Surely she'd put in a good word for me with my cousin." Richard's face brightened. "Of course she would
. After all, she was madly in love with me, and not so very long ago. I suspect she still is, no matter what you say. Game girl that she is, she'd cover her heartbreak."
Sidney was forced to show a sudden interest in his
Filet de Rouget
, taking a long moment to reply while he bridled his anger. At last he was able to reply smoothly, "And how do you plan to ask her? She is, after all, buried in the country, and you're not welcome at Pemberly Manor."
Richard smiled smugly. "Amy's wedding. I've known the Duke for years. He'll see to it I'm invited."
Unbelievable. How low could a man sink? "You really are a cad."
"Why so touchy?" Richard gave him a perceptive gaze. "You like her, don't you?"
"Very much." Sidney was in no mood for lies or cover-ups. "Lady Flora Dinsmore is not only beautiful, she's witty, wise, vivacious...everything a man could want in a woman. Why you ever gave her up is beyond me."
Sidney abruptly dropped his fork to his plate. "You love her."
"My feelings for Lady Dinsmore are my own concern, not yours." Sidney awarded his unscrupulous friend a long, hard stare. "You hurt her once. Don't do it again. If you do, you'll have me to deal with."
An uncomfortable laugh escaped Richard's lips. "Well, I must say
. I was only going to ask the woman to say a kind word about me to my cousin. It isn't as if I planned to run off with her."
"See that you don't," Sidney replied, not smiling. Seldom did he make a threat, but never, in all his life, had he meant a threat more than this one.
* * * *
The wedding reception for the Duke and Duchess of Armond was well underway at the Duke's palatial home on Arlington Street. Flora, dressed in a lavender satin gown heavily embroidered around bodice and hem, and a lavender paisley shawl, stood in a quiet corner. Casually waving her white ivory fan, she gazed out at the crowd of milling, chattering guests, all elegantly dressed, all members of the
ton
. She wondered if Richard might be there. Naturally her own family would not deign to invite him, but she knew Richard was a good friend of the Duke, and the Duke might very well have extended an invitation. For days she'd been telling herself she didn't give a fig whether Lord Dashwood came to the wedding or not. Even so, she couldn't keep her gaze from sweeping the crowd, searching for the man she had loved and lost. Instead, she caught sight of her sister, looking beautiful in an overdress of pink over a heavily embroidered white satin slip. Her lovely bridal veil was fastened with a brooch of pearl and pink topazes. She wore white satin slippers and white kid gloves.
All brides are beautiful, Flora thought as Amy approached, her eyes like stars, cheeks a rosy glow.
"Oh, Flora, I'm truly a duchess now," Amy exclaimed.
"That's wonderful," Flora told her sister with forced cheerfulness.
She didn't fool Amy, who lowered her voice and asked, "Tell me I didn't make a mistake."
Flora hesitated. Catching sight of the tall, elegantly dressed Duke as he mingled with the guests, she noted how he held his needle-thin nose contemptuously high and never lost his faint, superior smile. Even on his wedding day he maintained his God-like demeanor. Her feelings were mixed. On the one hand, she felt sisterly pride that Amy had managed to snag the Duke of Armond. On the other, she felt a faint chilling fear, recalling the dark rumors she'd heard concerning the Duke's private life. She could not shake her sense of foreboding, but there was nothing for it now but hope for the best. "Isn't it a bit too late to be concerned about mistakes?" she lightly whispered back. "Stop worrying and enjoy yourself, Your Grace. Want me to curtsy a time or two? That should make you feel better."
"Oh, hush," Amy replied, her humor restored. She looked over the crowd. "See, there's Lord Dashwood. I didn't know he was invited." Amy slanted a gaze at her sister. "I do hope his presence won't upset you."
"Not in the least."
Richard. He is here
. Flora felt a sudden joy. There, he'd caught sight of her. Her heart started beating a wild tattoo as he started toward her.
Amy used her folded fan to tap Flora's arm. "You had best be careful." She gave a warning glance and moved away.
By the time Richard stood before her, Flora's pulse was racing and her knees felt weak. Speechless, she stared up into those well-remembered azure blue eyes.
"Lady Dinsmore," Richard said with an elegant bow, "how delightful to see you again."
"What a pleasure to see you, Lord Dashwood." Flora curtsied, praying she wouldn't fall over in a faint.
Don't make a fool of yourself
, called a little voice within. After what this man with his little-boy charm had done to her, she shouldn't even speak to him, let alone act like an awkward school girl in his presence. She should say a polite goodbye right now and walk away, but her feet refused to cooperate. Too late. He broke into that irresistibly devastating grin of his, and she knew she was lost in a romantic cloud yet again.
"It's so good to see you, Flora, truly. I..." The grin disappeared, replaced by an expression of contrition mixed with sorrow. He looked as if he was about to break into tears. "What happened...the reason I... God, I'm sorry. You'll never know how sorry."
"You should be."
"I am. In fact...oh, Flora, I miss you so. I know it's too late, but if only..." In an anguished voice, he went on, "Till the day I die I shall regret what I did to you. Can we still at least be friends?"
Her heart went out to him. If they'd been alone, she would have fallen into his arms. "Of course we'll be friends, but nothing more."
"Of course
," he cried, looking absolutely wretched. "All I ask is that I might have the privilege of seeing you from time to time. It will be torture, knowing I can never have you, but I promise, I shall never touch you. You have no idea what I've gone through. If only Lord Dinsmore...ah well, I doubt he'll ever speak to me again. I don't blame him."
Flora wished she could disagree, but Richard was only too right. "Indeed, he is angry at you, but I'm sure that in time—"
"You think he'll forgive me?" All contrite, Richard continued, "Since losing you I've reformed. I would give anything if I could make him see how I've changed."
Flora's mind raced. She was reluctant to give advice to a man as experienced as her husband, yet his bull-headed attitude toward his cousin seemed most unreasonable. Poor Richard obviously had reformed and should not be made to suffer. "Perhaps I could speak to him."
Richard's face lit with joy. "Could you? I would be eternally grateful if you would. Lord Dinsmore needn't worry. My love for you must transcend the physical. I shall worship you from afar for the rest of my life."
"Oh, Richard
." He did love her. Her heart swelled with happiness. She would carry his words forever. She wanted desperately to feel his arms around her, but fate decreed such bliss was never to be. As Richard said, their love must transcend the physical. If he could make the sacrifice, so could she. She tilted her chin up and managed to say dispassionately, "I shall talk to him soon."
After Richard left, Flora could hardly contain herself. The thought that he might soon be welcome again at Pemberly Manor left her dizzy with delight. Not that she would ever commit even the slightest impropriety. Indeed, not
. How circumspect she would be, how extra thoughtful of her husband. Her relationship with Richard would be strictly as stepmother to stepson: respectable, totally correct. Their love was a precious and private understanding, never to be revealed.
Just then, she noticed the broad shoulders of Lord Lynd in the crowd. Soon he approached, but instead of his usual smile, his face wore a strange expression.
"Good evening, Lady Dinsmore." His manner was cool, formal.