Taste of Revenge

Elizabeth smoothed the black fabric in front of the mirror, tugging at it to hide her curves before she sighed, defeated.

No matter how hard she fought with diets and exercise, her body stubbornly held on to the marks her pregnancy with Emma had left, refusing to go back to what it had been. She ran her hands over her hips. Richard used to whisper how beautiful she was, but those moments felt so far away now.

Now all that was left was the weight of his gaze as he raked it over her, head to toe, full of judgment because she'd ignored the mustard dress he'd suggested. Fortunately, there was no time left to turn back, but his silence warned her he'd make her pay for it one way or another.

When they arrived, Richard hesitated before helping her out of the car. He only offered his hand once the other guests were watching, muttering a curse under his breath.

After the obligatory courtesies with their hosts, he disappeared, so she had to take Emma to the other children while discomfort pressed against her chest.

She was heading to the main hall when Richard cut her off. Without bothering to keep up appearances, he tilted his head until his breath grazed her ear.

"Couldn't you have picked something that covered more of your...?"

He gestured at her neckline, pointing at her assets with contempt. Shame climbed up her neck until it set her cheeks on fire, and she lowered her head, fighting to hold back tears.

"This is a business function, Liz. Not a costume parade."

"I'm sorry, I..." The words broke in her throat, and she couldn't hold his gaze.

Richard snorted impatiently, and she chose silence, because in the last few months nothing she did seemed to please him.

The Windsor party carried on as usual, and a few couples stopped to greet them, so Elizabeth forced a smile and clung to the mantra her mother had seared into her:

*A good wife never argues in public.*

Though apparently, she couldn't stop provoking exactly that.

A waiter approached with a tray of champagne, but Richard shook his head, making her lower her hand. Without a word, he signaled to someone across the room and walked off again.

She searched for something, anything to anchor her, until she found the face of her lifelong friend.

"Liz! You look wonderful." Amelia opened her arms with that elegance and confidence that always surrounded her.

"Well, Richard doesn't seem very impressed." She returned the air kiss and ignored her friend's pained expression.

Amelia let out a light laugh and guided her by the arm toward a small group. Nerves clenched her stomach when her friend gave them a predatory smile.

"Well, he should be. People of his class think they're more than they are, so don't let it get to you so much. If it bothers him, use it to make him jealous."

One of them offered her another glass, but Elizabeth declined.

"Richard doesn't want me drinking tonight," she whispered.

That made Amelia arch a perfectly lined eyebrow.

"And why do you need his permission? Seriously, I hate you when you turn into Doormat Elizabeth."

The comment hit her like a slap, but Amelia didn't seem to notice the mocking laughter from the others, or that she'd just shattered what little composure Liz had left. Across the hall, Richard chatted animatedly, without the slightest interest in her.

Her throat closed, and unable to bear the pressure any longer, she escaped to the garden. The cool night air struck her face, but it wasn't enough to stop the tears already running down her cheeks. She wiped them away roughly with the back of her hand, hating herself for being so vulnerable.

* * *

She sat down on one of the benches and startled the instant a broad figure slid in beside her. Nathan Kingston studied her with that intense gaze that always made her feel exposed.

Amelia tended to fill every space with vibrant energy. Her older brother, by contrast, radiated danger. The kind of danger that stole her breath.

He was an enigma in a tailored dark suit. And there, barely lit by the garden's yellowish lamps, his grim reputation became more real.

Without a word, Nathan held out a handkerchief, and she went still when he pressed it gently to her cheekbone himself.

"Want me to take care of whatever made you cry?"

Elizabeth didn't know what unsettled her more: his physical closeness, or the fact that Nathan, who never got involved in other people's drama, was there offering to help. As if he hadn't kept an icy distance for years, limiting himself to a couple of polite phrases.

She fixed her eyes on the floor. She couldn't stammer in front of him.

"No... things will get better with time."

His dry laugh set her nerves on edge.

"That's never worked for me."

He rose and adjusted his cufflinks with slow movements. When she tried to give the piece of cloth back, he closed his hand over the linen, forcing her to keep it.

"Take care of yourself, Elizabeth."

He walked away without a final glance, disappearing down one of the outer corridors that led to the restrooms. She clutched the handkerchief as she processed the encounter with a mix of relief and unease, wondering whether that offer confirmed what people said about him.

She stood, still overwhelmed, and made her way to the bar. The bartender raised his eyebrows when she stepped between a gentleman and the whiskey he was pouring, but she needed the burn of the liquor to smother the restlessness eating at her.

The first sip had barely slid down her throat when her husband snatched the glass from her hands and slammed it against the bar.

"Where the hell have you been?" Richard's face was flushed with fury. "Emma won't stop crying, and you're here like some drunk instead of taking care of your daughter."

She opened her mouth to answer that Emma was his daughter too. But he'd already turned his back, typing something on his phone as he stalked away.

Heart pounding, she went to find Emma. She found her in a corner, sobbing in her nanny's arms, the woman sighing as she handed her over.

She lost track of how much time passed, but she ended up sitting on a sofa, playing with Emma and the Windsor twins until the party around her wound down and the guests began saying their goodbyes.

She sent one of the staff to find Richard, but minutes later the man came back alone.

"Your husband has already left, ma'am."

The words landed like stones. Of course he'd left.

"Don't be upset." The nanny appeared at her side with that kind smile that hurt more than any insult. "I brought my car. I can take you both home."

Elizabeth pressed Emma against her chest and nodded.

What else could she do?