27 September, 1822
Lady Clitheroe’s Estate, Bedfordshire
As dawn neared, Fitz crept from Mel’s bed, tucked the covers around her, and hurried into his discarded clothing. When he reached his chamber, he’d only had time to shed his clothes again when a servant appeared.
He read the hastily scrawled letter and called the servant back. In moments he was dressed and striding back down the corridor to Mel’s bedchamber.
Entering, he watched her a moment, dark hair spread across the pillow as she curled on her side. He touched her arm and she shot up, and then hastily pulled the covers over her naked breasts.
She squinted up at him. “You’re dressed.”
“I must go.”
The note, written in a shaky hand, had come from Mother, and her worry had infected him with a sense of urgency.
“You’re…you’re leaving?”
That had come out a bit breathlessly. He sat down next to her and pulled her close. “A Loughton groom just arrived. My father is gravely ill. I must go home.”
“Oh,” she breathed. “Of course. Shall I follow?”
“It’s the influenza. I should not like you to risk catching it.”
“I see,” she said, and he heard the doubt in her voice.
He swept her up against him. “I’m not abandoning you, Mel. Go home to Hampshire, and I’ll make the arrangements for our wedding and come for you, as soon as father has recovered.”
He felt her head move in a nod.
“This won’t be a long separation. My father is a hardy man. Meanwhile, you must write to me. Will you do that?” He ran a finger over her lower lip, flummoxed to find it trembling. She was stronger than that.
“Don’t worry, my love. I’ll be true. You must write to me when you arrive home.”
A quiver went through her. Damnation. She was going to cry.
“No tears,” he pleaded. “I beg you. I’m truly not abandoning you, I promise.” He thought of their love making. She’d given herself to him fully and completely, and more than once. “I’ll see that the first banns are called next Sunday. If you have need of me for any reason, you must send for me immediately.”
A ray of morning light caught a flash of sadness, which she quickly blinked away. “I understand. I shall pray for your father. And you.” She clutched his hand. “You must stay well, Fitz.”
With a kiss that was far too short, he took his leave and hurried out.