His Lady Mistress

Elizabeth Rolls265A shudder ripped through her as she realised that she hadsurvived this each year by remembering Max and his tendercare of her at that dreadful grave. She had clung to that memory.But now she needed him. His arms, his deep voice. Justto hear the words spoken...It wasn’t your fault.She might never believe them, but it would be a comfortto think that someone else did. It was comfort she could nothave. She had to tell him about her pregnancy and she couldno longer hide behind the pretence that she was merely waitingfor him to come up. Fear twisted into a tight knot. Shewas frightened to confess and see the horror and fury in hiseyes.Shivering, she pulled on her dressing gown, picked up acandle and slipped out into the dim, silent corridor. Clipstonehad long since snuffed the wall sconces and gone to bed.Reaching the library, she set her candle down on a side tableand opened the door very quietly to peep in.Time rolled back, into a nightmare she had never fullyescaped. The familiar silent figure sitting in his shirtsleevesin the flickering glow of the fire, a wine table at his elbowbearing a full glass and a nearly empty decanter. A brokencry escaped as the past leapt to hellish life. Not Max. Not himtoo.At the ragged sound he turned and she bit back anothercry as she saw his face. Angry, bitter, the usually bright eyesdulled. His cravat was askew and his waistcoat hung open.‘Max?’ she whispered. He had never done this before, hadhe? Why now? Why this night of all nights?He blinked owlishly. ‘Verity?’Her own pain doubled and redoubled in the space of aheartbeat as she saw his, heard it in the cracking of his voice.She remembered his affection for her father, his belief thathe had been partially responsible. Without further thought shesped across the room and knelt beside him, wriggling intohis arms. ‘Oh, Max. I’m sorry. I never realised how badlyyou must feel it. Please. You mustn’t blame yourself.’ The