way I behaved. I was young and, frankly, scared about the idea of marriage. You deserved so much better from me.”
* * *
Tommy never thought he would hear Lizzie speak to him as she just had. What might he have done if she’d written something like that to him years ago?
Probably nothing, he thought, because time and his own choices had moved him beyond dwelling on what had happened. But there had been those painful, dark first months in India.
He wanted to accept her words graciously. And yet, he didn’t trust her. He didn’t think people could change so much. Lizzie had been all about fun and flirting, and it wasn’t until he’d stepped out of her fascinating orbit that he’d seen she was someone who needed to be the center of attention.
Plus, he was certain she’d been loitering in the bookshop to watch him. He’d had the sensation that someone was watching him when he was talking with Mrs. Dombrell. But why should Lizzie be so interested in him? And why apologize now for what happened years ago?
He crossed his arms and propped a shoulder against the end of the bookshelf. “Did Anna put you up to this? I know she’s keen for everything to be as though we’re all one happy family.”
Lizzie shook her head. “This doesn’t have anything to do with Anna and Will. And I don’t have any secret motives. It’s just an apology, plain and simple, for having behaved badly years ago.”
She seemed sincere, and he would be a bastard to hold a grudge. “Very well, I accept. And perhaps my public proposal was too dramatic a gesture.” What a mooncalf he’d been. Thank God he wasn’t like that anymore.
He considered the idea that like him, Lizzie had changed from the person she’d been back then. She looked different, of course. Her face was more interesting, her demeanor more assured and relaxed, her figure a touch more lush in all the right places even if her clothes were far less dramatic. He’d have been lying if he didn’t admit he found her extremely attractive. She was twenty-four and a widow, he reminded himself. Of course she wasn’t the same person she’d been.
But then he watched as her eyes drifted beyond his, and he glanced behind him and saw Lord Benchcombe talking to a woman. It was the woman he’d seen pass by the bookshelves earlier and who must have been in the aisle with Lizzie when he was talking with Mrs. Dombrell.
Eliza smiled. “Your public proposal was a sweet idea,” she said, but all her attention seemed to be on the man and woman and not on discussing the event she’d supposedly felt such a need to apologize for.
“You seem very interested in that woman,” Tommy said.
Lizzie seemed to start. “What?”
“The woman behind me you keep looking at. The one who was in the aisle with you a few minutes ago. The one you said you don’t know.”
She flushed. “Er…no. I don’t… Er, well, that is, it’s Lord Benchcombe. I…have a tendre for him.”
Tommy absorbed this bizarre admission. Benchcombe was a handsome fellow. Young and tall, with the kind of hair women liked to call golden. But a tendre? Wasn’t that the province of silly young ladies of sixteen?
“You admire Lord Benchcombe?”
“Exceedingly!”
He glanced at Benchcombe, who was now looking at them, perhaps having noticed Eliza’s gaze. Tommy had always thought the man dull-witted, if nice enough, and the ladies did seem to find him handsome. “And does he know?”
“Oh, no.”
“Have you admired him for a long time?”
“Er, no. That is…”
“Just last week you were smitten with someone else?” he supplied.
“Yes!” she said, looking oddly relieved. “Have to keep things moving. You know how it is.”
He didn’t, actually. It was one thing to keep company with different partners, but flitting around like a giddy sixteen-year-old, consorting with every available person of the opposite sex? No. Good God, Lizzie was a widow now—hadn’t she grown up at all?
He found himself more
* * *
Tommy never thought he would hear Lizzie speak to him as she just had. What might he have done if she’d written something like that to him years ago?
Probably nothing, he thought, because time and his own choices had moved him beyond dwelling on what had happened. But there had been those painful, dark first months in India.
He wanted to accept her words graciously. And yet, he didn’t trust her. He didn’t think people could change so much. Lizzie had been all about fun and flirting, and it wasn’t until he’d stepped out of her fascinating orbit that he’d seen she was someone who needed to be the center of attention.
Plus, he was certain she’d been loitering in the bookshop to watch him. He’d had the sensation that someone was watching him when he was talking with Mrs. Dombrell. But why should Lizzie be so interested in him? And why apologize now for what happened years ago?
He crossed his arms and propped a shoulder against the end of the bookshelf. “Did Anna put you up to this? I know she’s keen for everything to be as though we’re all one happy family.”
Lizzie shook her head. “This doesn’t have anything to do with Anna and Will. And I don’t have any secret motives. It’s just an apology, plain and simple, for having behaved badly years ago.”
She seemed sincere, and he would be a bastard to hold a grudge. “Very well, I accept. And perhaps my public proposal was too dramatic a gesture.” What a mooncalf he’d been. Thank God he wasn’t like that anymore.
He considered the idea that like him, Lizzie had changed from the person she’d been back then. She looked different, of course. Her face was more interesting, her demeanor more assured and relaxed, her figure a touch more lush in all the right places even if her clothes were far less dramatic. He’d have been lying if he didn’t admit he found her extremely attractive. She was twenty-four and a widow, he reminded himself. Of course she wasn’t the same person she’d been.
But then he watched as her eyes drifted beyond his, and he glanced behind him and saw Lord Benchcombe talking to a woman. It was the woman he’d seen pass by the bookshelves earlier and who must have been in the aisle with Lizzie when he was talking with Mrs. Dombrell.
Eliza smiled. “Your public proposal was a sweet idea,” she said, but all her attention seemed to be on the man and woman and not on discussing the event she’d supposedly felt such a need to apologize for.
“You seem very interested in that woman,” Tommy said.
Lizzie seemed to start. “What?”
“The woman behind me you keep looking at. The one who was in the aisle with you a few minutes ago. The one you said you don’t know.”
She flushed. “Er…no. I don’t… Er, well, that is, it’s Lord Benchcombe. I…have a tendre for him.”
Tommy absorbed this bizarre admission. Benchcombe was a handsome fellow. Young and tall, with the kind of hair women liked to call golden. But a tendre? Wasn’t that the province of silly young ladies of sixteen?
“You admire Lord Benchcombe?”
“Exceedingly!”
He glanced at Benchcombe, who was now looking at them, perhaps having noticed Eliza’s gaze. Tommy had always thought the man dull-witted, if nice enough, and the ladies did seem to find him handsome. “And does he know?”
“Oh, no.”
“Have you admired him for a long time?”
“Er, no. That is…”
“Just last week you were smitten with someone else?” he supplied.
“Yes!” she said, looking oddly relieved. “Have to keep things moving. You know how it is.”
He didn’t, actually. It was one thing to keep company with different partners, but flitting around like a giddy sixteen-year-old, consorting with every available person of the opposite sex? No. Good God, Lizzie was a widow now—hadn’t she grown up at all?
He found himself more
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