Page 29 of Foolish Bride
“Guilt?”
“You are the sort to feel guilty for our situation. I am sure you would like it if I were off of your conscience.” Not the nicest thing she had ever said, but he brought it out of her.
He watched her. “May I speak frankly, Lady Elinor?” Taking her silence as consent, he continued. “I do feel guilty for what became of us. I feel guilty for going to France and risking our life together. I feel guilty for the way we fought when you came to my house on our wedding date. What I do not feel guilty for is wishing you happy. I shall love you to the end of my days, and I feel no guilt over that, either. I want you to be happy. I ruined our life together, but I sincerely hope that you will find joy in your life, Elinor.”
“Michael, I—”
He held up a hand to silence her. “I hope my being here this evening was not too uncomfortable for you. Good night, Elinor.” He stepped forward, took her hand, and kissed it.
She was so stunned that she couldn’t say anything. Having forgotten her gloves in the parlor, she watched him kiss her hand. His lips were warm and moist on her skin. She trembled at his touch, and still she couldn’t find her voice. Their eyes met and, in that moment, everything might have been fine between them. If only they could stay on this veranda, then all would be well.
But the moment passed, and he straightened, turned, and left through the garden gate.
She wanted to call out to him, to tell him she loved him still and would marry no other. But she couldn’t. He hadn’t renewed his wishes to marry her. He had merely released her of her own guilt. It was quite a noble thing he had done, but she kept it to herself.
In a daze, she walked back into the parlor and rejoined the ladies.
When the men arrived, Michael wasn’t with them.
Chapter 6
When Elinor entered the Flammel townhouse, music from heaven filled the front hall. Elinor’s heart warmed, and she told the butler she would show herself into the music room.
In spite of the fact that Dorothea’s mother, the Countess Castlereagh, did not approve of her daughter’s over-exuberance toward music, she did set aside a parlor for all the instruments. Dory excelled at more than six instruments, but at the pianoforte she was a miracle.
The strains drifting out of the music room filled Elinor with joy and sorrow. It touched her in ways music rarely had. When they were small and lived in the country, she would often listen without announcing herself. Often the games would have to wait until Dory was finished practicing. Many times the entire day would be spent on music. Elinor tried to accompany Dory on the harp, but by the time they were twelve years old, Dory had far exceeded Elinor in talent and was composing her own music.
Eyes closed, Elinor let the final notes wash over her.
“How long have you been standing there?” Dory asked.
“Not long enough.” Sorry the music ended, Elinor walked inside.
Dory smiled. “You always were my biggest admirer.”
“What was that piece you were playing?”
“I wrote it last week and have not named it yet. It’s a bit sad. I am not exactly sure why I was feeling so down last week, but the music is nice.” She shrugged and plucked one key before closing the pianoforte.
“I love it. If you would allow more people to hear you play your own music, you would attract many more admirers.” Elinor strolled to the pianoforte and ran her hand along the golden oak inlaid. A darker wood formed a delicate vine along the edge.
Dory shrugged again and gestured for Elinor to sit. “How are you?”
“Frankly, I do not know.” She flopped into the Queen Ann chair set in a small conversation group around a low table.
Sitting on the settee across from her, Dory smoothed her pale blue skirt.
Sophia rushed into the music room. Her dark hair was coming loose from its chignon, the bottom of her dress was covered in mud, and her cheeks were bright red. “I am late!”
“Sophia, whatever happened to your dress?” Concerned that Sophia had an accident, Elinor stood.
“Is it raining?” Dory rose as well.
Sophia gave them both a look that she might use on her son, Charles, were he being particularly willful. She tossed her reticule down on the settee “No, it is not raining. I was already late because Charles fell from the third step in the main hall.”
“No!” Elinor’s heart leapt in her throat. “Is he hurt, poor dear?”
“He’s fine. He received a small bump on his forehead for his trouble. The nanny, and I thank the lord for her daily, is taking care of him. I believe a cooled cup of chocolate was the medicine she prescribed, and little Charlie seemed quite pleased with the prospect. I believe he is, even now, looking for other ways of injuring himself in order to receive more of the same treatment.” Sophia flopped down on the settee and took a deep breath.
