Widow in White

Chapter Eighteen: A Real Fight

Laura slipped her hand out from Richard's and took two or three slow steps away from him. Her first reaction was to doubt herself: it could not be true. She was imagining it, jealously imagining it.

"Just tell me what you'd like to do," Richard said behind her. "If you're not happy here, I'm not happy here."

"I'm not unhappy," Laura said quietly.

"Really?" Richard squeezed her shoulders gently. "Darling, you don't have to pretend. I can tell you're not enjoying yourself."

"I told you, I'm not unhappy."

"Then what on earth is wrong? Please. Tell me."

Laura stared blindly out across the garden and ran over it again. There were other signs, now she thought about it. Verity had known Richard would never marry any of her pretty, flirtatious cousins, had even been amused by their flirtations. Richard had refused to tell Laura anything about the woman he loved, which meant she must, in some way, still be in his life. He had no reason not to trust Laura to keep a secret of his; if he kept it back from her, it was because the knowledge would hurt her, not the woman he loved.

"Laura?" He nuzzled at her neck. "What's wrong?"

She had to know. "Are you in love with Verity?"

His hands, still at her shoulders, went stiff. That answered her as much as anything else. She took a deep breath.

"It's her, isn't it? She's the one you fell in love with."

Richard's hands dropped from her shoulders. She turned to face him. He looked at the windows of the house, as though to make sure no one was in earshot, then back to her and gave a small, brisk nod.

"It's no longer relevant. But it was her."

Laura found tears welling in her eyes and blinked them back. Richard touched her face.

"Don't cry."

"Don't tell me not to cry!" Laura slapped his hand away and turned away from him, taking deep, shaking breaths. Her heart, her throat, her whole body ached. Her fingers, when she wiped her eyes, were shaking. "You warned me, after all, before we married. You said you'd never fall in love with me—"

"—Laura, please—"

"—No, it's fine. I was forewarned. You've done nothing wrong except—" she had to gasp for air "—make me fall— but I had warning. I ought to have been guarded—"

Richard pulled her close against him, pressing her face against his shoulder. "It's no longer relevant, Laura. You're the one I love."

For a moment, with his arms hard around her and his body solid against hers, she believed it. "Then why didn't you tell me?"

His silence answered her.

She pressed her face against his collar, flooding it with tears, then her pain became pride and she pushed him away. She was almost angry with him, but she remembered what he had told her, the night he proposed for the last time. He had warned her then that he was in love with someone else. And then, before she had truly loved him, it hadn't seemed such a terrible thing. And perhaps it wouldn't have been, if she never knew who the woman was. If the woman were not still in his life. But she did know, and Verity would always be in his life. And so Laura would always be second best.

"Laura, let me tell you about it," he said. "It's not what you think."

"I don't want to know, Richard. I know too much already!" She covered her face with her hands and spoke through them. "I just want to be alone for a while. Let me be alone."