Honor's Players - By Holly Newman Page 0,79

This prey is prey no longer, and I’ll see you the fool before I play jester for your cronies’ entertainment again.”

“Bess, I love you too. That’s the damnable thing about this entire mess. I love you to distraction and was hoping to show you this night the proof of my affections.”

“That you have done full well, thank you. I don’t need your kind of affection.”

“Bess, please!”

Inside the bedroom Elizabeth cringed at his call. He was such a good actor. He should have trod the boards. She had waited so long to hear him say he loved her that even now, even with the knowledge of his deceit, his manipulation, and falseness of his feelings, she was still moved by his words. The silken thread of her control snapped, allowing the tears she’d bottled inside her to flow. With a strangled sob she threw herself on her bed to muffle the sound as copious tears fell.

St. Ryne strained to hear her answer, wondering if that was a sob he heard. He banged on the door impatiently and shook the lock, yet the door remained closed to him. In disgust he flung himself away and stumbled back down the stairs to his library and a brandy bottle.

Ivy, Elizabeth’s little country maid, clucked her tongue and shook her head at the carryings on of gentry. She crossed to the bed to sit beside her mistress and stroke her head in comfort for when all was said and done, whatever be a person’s class, true suffering was the same.

Tis well, sir, that you hunted for yourself; Tis thought your deer does hold you at bay.

—Act V, Scene 1

Elizabeth woke well before the first rays of dawn touched London rooftops. The dull throbbing in her head from the night before had grown into searing pain, her eyes and chest uncomfortable from prolonged weeping. She rolled over listlessly in bed and looked about the dark room, her eyes dimly discerning the shadows of her rage. Fuzzily she ran her hand across her brow as if to pull her thoughts together.

She lurched sideways out of bed. She had made plans last evening, plans for this dark morning. She pressed the heels of her hands against her agonizing temples and sat down again on the edge of the bed.

A soft scratching at her door roused her.

“Mistress?” called a quiet voice, “be you awake?”

Elizabeth rose and hurried to the door. “Shush, yes I’m awake.” She unlocked the door to let her maid slip in with a tray of hot chocolate. “Well?” she asked.

“I doubt anyone be rising early today with all the hue and cry of last night. His lordship drunk himself into a stupor, he did, and had to be carried to bed. I saw the butler remove an empty spirits bottle and confide to Mr. Cranston it were brandy. Like as not he’ll have an awful head.”

“It couldn’t be any worse than mine,” Elizabeth said dully as she sat down on a small sofa by the fireplace.

“Can I fetch you some lavender water, my lady?”

“No, I doubt it would help.”

“Well here, drink your chocolate while I stoke the fire bright again,” soothed Ivy. “Are you still determined to return to Larchside today?”

Elizabeth watched the woman deftly rekindle the fire “Yes, and I’m not going to wait upon a carriage either. I intend to ride back with only a small portmanteau of necessities.”

She raised a hand to forestall Ivy’s objections “You will have to follow as best you can with the remainder of my things. I’m certain my husband will not stop you; however, if everything continues in disarray, it may be a few days before you are able to come.”

“I understand, my lady.”

“Help me get into my riding habit, then while I pack a few items, you run along to the stable and see if you can get a horse to be saddled for me.”

“Oh, that won’t be no problem, ma’am,” she said brightly, “seein’ as how Thomas is kinda sweet on me.”

Elizabeth laughed hollowly as her maid twitched the skirts into place and fastened the hooks. “Good, and keep it quiet. Though I do not think my husband will follow, I do not hold the same faith in his not trying to stop me.”

“Don’t you worrit, my lady, we’ll get you off right and tight.”

Patches of cold wet fog still clung to the road and laid low in the valleys as Elizabeth, followed faithfully by Thomas, rode toward Larchside. Despite her depressed spirits, she was amused