Free A Regency Charade by Elizabeth Mansfield Page A

physical blows. She whitened, and her eyes, widening with a questioning horror, flew up to his. She stared at him as if he were a monstrous stranger, some sort of malevolent creature who had mysteriously inhabited her husband’s body. Alec didn’t know what to make of her obvious and unexpected vulnerability to his slurs. He was confused, puzzled and quite miserable, and he wanted only to tear his eyes from hers and run from the room. But he didn’t permit himself to move a muscle. He would not reveal, by word or gesture, the slightest intimation of weakness. He would prove to himself and to her that he’d achieved at least some measure of strength and self-mastery in his years in military service.
    As if she read this unyielding message in his face, her eyes wavered and fell. She pressed her trembling lips together and walked blindly away from the door. He watched her as she moved unsteadily toward the sofa. Her shoulders sagged pathetically, and her thin form seemed to shiver. Unaccountably, he was smitten with guilt. He felt an almost overpowering urge to offer her comfort and protection. But confound it, why should he? Let Edmonds comfort her! He was the man she loved, wasn’t he?
    It was all so blasted confusing! Alec couldn’t understand why she hadn’t permitted Newkirk to arrange to release her from the marriage; she could have wed Edmonds years ago! It was certainly a question he would have liked to have answered, but he was scarcely in a frame of mind at this moment to investigate anything, to make sense of anything, or to consider anything. What he needed was to find his way to the Fenton, to pull off his deucedly confining uniform and have Kellam, his batman, give him something for his head. “Am I now excused, ma’am?” he asked, making his voice harsh and unfeeling.
    She made a small, hopeless gesture of acquiescence with her hand. He bowed briefly and turned once more to the door. But once more her voice stopped him. “I shall sign no papers, sir ,” she said with trembling anger, “until you and I have had a full discussion of everything that’s happened.”
    He hesitated. Their brief exchange this morning had been quite painful enough; he had no desire to subject himself to an even lengthier and more emotional interview. However, if that was to be the price required to sever their legal ties, he supposed he’d have to agree. “As you wish, ma’am,” he said curtly.
    A little sob sounded deep in her throat. “ N-None of this is as I w-wish,” she murmured brokenly.
    “Damn it, Priss,” he burst out angrily, his nerves rubbed raw, “stop acting as if all this were my fault!”
    She looked up quickly, her face suddenly eager. This was an Alec she could almost recognize—angry and boyish and calling her by name. Not the icy stranger of a moment ago. “Oh, Alec! Of course it wasn’t your fault. I never said … It was all mine ! If only you’d let me tell you—!”
    She’d jumped to her feet as she spoke and was approaching him again. He took a hasty step backward, dropping his hat awkwardly, and held up a restraining hand. “No! Don’t! I don’t want to hear —”
    “But … why not? Alec, you can’t have become so entirely heartless as to—”
    He put a weary hand to his forehead and shut his eyes. “Priss, please! Not now. I’m not up to this now. I’ve already agreed to discuss matters at … at some future time, haven’t I? But at this moment, I’m in no condition to … that is, I … really must go.”
    Her eagerness faded, and she turned away again. “I see. I’m … sorry,” she said dejectedly. “Will you come back soon?”
    “Well, I—”
    “Tomorrow?”
    “ Tomorrow ?” The alarm in his voice was unmistakable. “No … no. Not for a while …”
    “How long? A week?”
    He picked up the shako and turned to the door. “I don’t know,” he said, not looking back at her. “I’m not certain. A … month or two …”
    She gasped. “A month ?”
    “I