In the Baron’s Debt by Roselyn Francis
Chapter Twelve
Loftus stood, replacing his trousers and his shirt beside the bed as Augusta hurried to replace her chemise. She looked away from him, still baffled by what had taken place and wondering if she had made a dreadful mistake.
Loftus paused in his dressing, his focus on the chest of drawers in her chamber. He stepped towards it and lifted something from its surface.
She could not see his face from the position they were in, but she could see what was in his hand. It was the gift he had given her all those years ago – the necklace with the horse and rider pendant.
“You kept it?” He looked back to her. She looked away from his penetrating green eyes and turned to replace her corset. She was getting in a fuddle trying to put it on without the help of a maid, but she was suddenly desperate to be dressed again, to be hidden from him. “Augusta, you kept the necklace?” He moved to her side after replacing the jewelry to the table.
“Help me with this,” she ignored his question and turned her back to him, prompting him to help her with the corset. He did as she asked, but he did not relent.
“You kept the necklace,” he said again, this time it was not a question. “After all these years.”
She kept her head from him as he finished with the corset and she rushed to pick up her dress off the floor. She was so busy with her focus on the dress, she barely noticed Loftus moving to stand in front of her again.
“Augusta,” he took the dress from her hands, urging her to look at him. “Marry me, Augusta,” he moved toward her with the dress in his hands, his green eyes wide with sincerity. “You care for me still as I do you. You cannot ignore what just happened between us.” He gestured to the bed. She turned away from it, trying to push away the image of their bodies entwined together from her mind, but she could not. Her body was still floating on the cloud of bliss he had created.
“Too much has just happened,” she shook her head. She snatched the dress from his hands and walked past him. “I need time to think.”
Do I want to marry him?
She dismissed the idea with her next thought. She did not want him to marry her out of obligation, yet she was convinced that was what he was now trying to do. Both had let their desire run away with them. They were left in a position where it was possible Augusta could be with child and unmarried. He was trying to do the right thing, out of obligation.
She closed her eyes, detesting the idea.
If she were to marry him, she wanted him to marry her for love, not for obligation.
“Augusta,” he moved in front of her again, earning her gaze, just as a sound came from downstairs. Their eyes connected, both widening in realization. “Is that James? Arrived home?” He whispered.
“Yes,” she covered her face with her hands. “Oh my God!” She said in a hurried whisper as she tried to replace her dress.
Loftus turned away and replaced the rest of his clothes, hurrying with his waistcoat and hessian boots. Augusta was finished first, so she went to help him, adjusting his cravat. It put them in proximity again.
“Say yes, Augusta. Marry me,” he pleaded, taking hold of her waist again with his hands.
His touch on her had her leaning towards him, tempted to say yes, but the thought of seeing him with that other woman all those years ago broke through her daze. She could not go through that heartbreak again. He had made it clear once how little he valued her affection. She would not place her heart in his hands for more pain.
“James is home,” she whispered as the sounds became clearer downstairs. “We need to get you out of here before he realizes.” She walked past him, but he followed her, refusing to let her escape.
“Augusta –”
“I will think on it,” she said eventually, desperate to put the conversation at an end. “This is not the time. There is the pressing matter of avoiding discovery to attend to,” she gestured to the floor where James could be heard. “And there is much I need to think about. I need time.”
He nodded, apparently relenting. As he finished with his boots, his hands went to his arms and his eyes widened in realization.
“My coat is downstairs.”
* * *
Loftus would have found some humor in the situation had Augusta not refused to give him an answer. As it was, he was standing in the corridor outside of the drawing room as Augusta was inside, trying to collect his coat form the floor without raising James’ suspicions.
Fortunately, from what he could hear through the door, James had not noticed. The slurring of his words also suggested he was drunk. Loftus turned to the grandfather clock in the corridor and rolled his eyes as he realized the time. Augusta was right, James did have a problem if he was drunk at such a time.
Perhaps it was in their favor on this occasion. When the door opened, Augusta flung the coat into Loftus’ hands so quickly, it startled him. Over her shoulder, he caught a brief glimpse of James laid out on the divan, slowly falling asleep.
The door was closed again, and the distance between him and Augusta grew greater once more.
He slipped out of the house as quickly as possible, making his way home with agitation in his every step.
Augusta…
He could still smell her on him. The thought of her beneath him on the bed, moaning his name, clawing at him to be closer to her, watching her fall over the edge of her pleasure until she was clutching the bed sheets and pulling them from their place with her fervor… It was all too much for him to bear. What had passed between them was more intimate and more exciting than he had imagined it being.
The contrast of sharing a bed with Augusta compared to Maria, his late wife, was startling. It brought into sharp focus just how ill a fit he and Maria had been as a couple.
As he walked through the streets, returning home as quickly as possible, Augusta’s resistance to answer him left him gutted. He stared at the cracks in the pavements and the cobbles, his mind torn with differing thoughts.
She could not show so much passion and not care for me, surely? She kept the necklace. After all these years, she kept it in her dresser. Does that not mean something too?
He had been so convinced, as their lovemaking ended, that she cared for him, he had not hesitated to ask her to marry him again. His had thought that he had proven to her that they could be happy together, be married and have a family, if she would just finally say yes.
Yet her lack of a response was as good as another refusal. Her third rejection now.
He felt pain in his gut, as though his whole stomach was writhing in knots. It was a sign. It was not just lust for Augusta. If it was lust, then their one afternoon together on her bed may have been enough, but it was not enough. He still desired her, yet there were other things to consider too. He wanted her away from James’ gambling, wanted to protect her. He wanted her to be the mother of his children, to Markus as well as their own.
He wanted her as his wife.
His footsteps came to a stop briefly as he looked back down the street towards the house that he had left.
Am I in love with her all over again?
The thought made him turn away and his steps grew quicker. His whole journey home he replayed the events of eight years ago. How she had called off the engagement without a word to anyone as to the reasons why. Now she was refusing to marry him all over again, even though she clearly cared for him.
Why doesn’t she want to marry me?
* * *
Augusta could not sleep. It was perhaps because she was trying to sleep in the same bed where she and Loftus had been so intimate together. At times, she thought the bed sheets held his scent, but she would roll over and try to turn away from it.
There was another reason though why she could not sleep. She stared up at the ceiling, wide awake, her eyes darting around the space with thought.
He wants to marry me.
She could not trust him. She knew that.
She rolled over again, remembering exactly what had happened eight years ago.
Their engagement had been well known amongst the ton. It was expected by that point that they would attend events and assemblies together, their marriage but a month away. It was the day after they had been discussing the wedding preparations when a note had arrived for Augusta.
The sender had not left a name, but the note had intimated that there was something about Loftus she did not know, and if she wished to know exactly who she was marrying, then she should go to Hyde Park at eight o’clock that evening. She had been too curious to ignore it.
With some difficulty, she had crept out of the house, informing no one of what she was doing. Concealed by her dark pelisse and a large hat, she had crept into the corners of Hyde Park and secreted herself behind the bushes near the flower borders, giving her a good view of the pathways and the benches. She had stood persuading herself it was some ridiculous prank, as for many minutes no one appeared, but eventually, Loftus had emerged.
In the moonlight he had walked down the path, moving towards a bench. She could see him clearly in the moonlight, her nerves growing with every minute, wondering why he was there. Soon, a young lady approached. She had greeted Loftus with warmth.
Augusta had not been able to see Loftus’ face from the angle in which they were stood, but she had seen the woman. She had long blonde hair and bright eyes, she was smiling at Loftus in the way Augusta herself often did. As the two of them took a seat on the bench, their faces were hidden from Augusta.
The conversation was animated, that much was clear, but then Loftus laid an arm across the woman’s shoulders and she leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder.
The disgust Augusta felt had been sharp. She was both humiliated and furious that Loftus could betray her trust in such a way.
They were supposed to be in love, yet he would entertain another young lady’s company in the evening completely alone? It was an unforgivable betrayal and showed to Augusta exactly what Loftus thought of his betrothal to her: an arrangement for marriage’s sake, no real love at all.
She had run away from the bushes, fearing she made too much noise as her boots broke the twigs beneath her feet, but she kept running, all the way home where she cried most of the night, her heart torn in two by the man she had thought was the love of her life. The next morning, she told her father their betrothal was at an end and sent a letter to Loftus to call off the wedding.
She had been too proud to talk of it, but there was also the fact she still cared for Loftus enough to not want to destroy his reputation in that way. So, she had kept it a secret, even from James and her own parents, choosing instead to suffer her heartbreak in silence.
She knew he had been to the house many times, demanding an explanation. Yet each time she had avoided seeing him. She had been so in love with him, she could not bear to put herself through the pain of having to see him lie so much to her face. She did not need to see him come up with excuses, from what she saw, there was nothing he could say to make it better.
He had deceived her and cared for another woman entirely.
Just a month later, Loftus married the woman from the park. Augusta had cried for so long she felt as though her body were dry and shriveled up. She thought that it was possible a person was allocated only so many tears in their lifetime, and she had spent all of hers on Loftus.
She twisted over in the bed again, looking back up to the ceiling and pushing away the memories.
She felt trapped. She had fallen back into a situation that had put her in close contact with Loftus, and just as before, it had been easy to care for him. She could not deny she had feelings for him, and she cared for Markus too. She would love to raise the child and dote on him, but Loftus was too great a risk to pin her happiness too.
He would hurt me all over again.
* * *
Loftus was putting Markus to bed, with his mind still caught up with thoughts of Augusta. Markus seemed happy; his smile great as he climbed into the bed. Loftus pulled the covers up to his son’s neck and brushed back his hair from his forehead, a gesture of love as he sat on the bed beside the boy.
“Papa, will Miss Creassey be my new mother?” The sound of Markus’ voice filled him with delight. He dropped a kiss to the boy’s forehead, overjoyed to hear him speaking again and unable to restrain himself. As he sat, the boy looked up at him, the green eyes that matched his own were wide with expectation.
He struggled with how to answer for a moment. It was a complicated matter.
“We will see,” he replied with a soft tone eventually, brushing back Markus’ hair once again. “Now, you get some sleep, and we will talk more in the morning. Goodnight, Markus.”
He left the boy to his sleep and took the candle with him, hesitating in the doorway as he watched his son close his eyes and tuck his small body beneath the covers.
Augusta would make a good mother to Markus.
He smiled at this thought as he walked down the corridor, aiming for his own bed chamber. Once inside, he moved to his desk and brought out the leather folder that contained all the drawings he had of her.
He turned to the very first drawing he had made of her after their initial meeting. It was a sweet picture of just her face, her head tilted to the side as she smiled at him. His eyes traced the pencil marks as he thought of her.
He realized he could forgive her for breaking off their first engagement. In truth, they had both been very young at the time, likely to make foolish mistakes and perhaps not yet mature enough for such a relationship. He could forgive her for it even if her actions had led him to marry a woman whose madness and lunacy would drive her to an early grave and him to melancholy.
The unhappiness and despair Maria had brought to his life made him close his eyes for a moment and look away from the perfect pictures of Augusta. How he wished he could turn back time and undo his marriage to Maria, yet, if he could, there would be no Markus, and he loved him so dearly, he could not truthfully regret the marriage solely because of that reason.
He opened his eyes and returned to the drawings, turning to the very last one he had made of Augusta. It was of her from the evening of the storm, the way she had ran into the house, her back turned to him, trying to escape the rain.
He felt as though they were forever stuck in that position. Him standing behind her whilst she ran away.
They now had the opportunity to mend the pain of the past. Whatever the reason she had rejected him before, he could fix it, and they could marry now. They could have the happy family and the good life together they had talked of eight years ago.
Why does she not want that too?
He could have sworn she cared for him. The way she had threaded her hands in his hair during their lovemaking, the way she had moaned his name. It had to be more than just desire.
Why is she holding back from me?
He threw the book across the desk, casting it to the side, a sudden determination filling him. He was tired of dancing around their issues. For so many days he had tried to ignore her effect on him, now he had made up his mind to marry her, he had to know what was stopping them from their happiness. Had to know why she had ended the betrothal at all.
He stood to his feet, with his conviction summoning bravery from him.
Tomorrow, I will find out what keeps her from me.