A Chance Encounter Read Online Free PDF Page A

brushing and reknotting her hair while her mind dwelled deeply on the encounter with Hetherington that afternoon. She had known that he could be cruel, that he was basically heartless, but she had never had face-to-face proof of the fact before. The voice and the facial expression that she had witnessed during that walk along the street in Granby had made him a stranger to her. She had never seen him cold, sneering, sarcastic before. He had behaved as if he hated her. But why? She was the one who had been wronged, hurt almost beyond bearing six years before. Was it conscience that had made him turn upon her with such contempt?
    Elizabeth had tried to hate him in that first year when the pain had been intense enough to drive her almost out of her mind. But even then she had not been able to. The best she could do eventually was to dull all feeling, so that a mere empty ache would gnaw at her when her mind strayed to that episode in her life. She had trained herself to think of him, if at all, as he was at the beginning of their relationship.
    Their friendship had developed through frequent meetings at ton events. Always he would seek her out and spend as much time with her as propriety allowed. But at first it had been pure friendship. They had sparked a note of sympathy in each other. They had found it easy to talk about their deepest feelings and dreams. Elizabeth had told him all about her life at home, her dreams of a home of her own in which family ties would be close, in which love would be the ruling spirit. He had told her about his home life, his sense of alienation from his family. He found his father and his brother too stem and joyless, too much attached to the city, with too little love of the land. They considered him a misfit, a nuisance. Both frowned upon his wish to enlist, yet neither could suggest a useful employment for this younger son. They seemed to expect him to be an idle man-about-town although the family had very little money. Living in a style that he considered appropriate to his rank, the marquess had put too much stress on the income from his estates.
    Love had taken her quite unawares. They had both been attending a ball, but were not together because they had already shared the regulation two dances. Elizabeth had been wearing new slippers, which pinched her toes so badly that she was convinced that she must have at least one blister. The house belonged to the parents of one of her intimate friends. She had hobbled to the library, hoping that her aunt would not miss her presence for a while. She closed the door quietly behind her and sank into the nearest chair with an audible sigh. Moonlight from the full-length windows sent shafts of dim light across the carpet.
    â€œCan it be that the indefatigable Elizabeth Rossiter is actually fatigued?” a teasing and familiar voice had asked.
    Elizabeth, startled, had looked across to see a dim form occupying a wing chair beside the fireplace.
    â€œRobert, how you startled me!” she had said. “And what are you doing here, pray?”
    â€œSulking because I cannot dance with you again,” he had replied.
    Elizabeth had laughed. “What flummery!” she had said lightly. “Anyway, sir, if you really wish to dance with me, you may do so right here. The orchestra can quite plainly be heard. But you must permit me to remove my slippers and allow my blisters some breathing room.”
    She had been joking. But he had got up from his chair, come across the room to her, and knelt in front of her chair.
    â€œPoor Elizabeth,” he had teased gently, “smiling politely at all your admirers in the ballroom and secretly nursing two feetful of blisters.” He had lifted her feet one at a time and removed the shoes. She had sighed with exaggerated contentment, and he had laughed.
    â€œCome,” he had said, taking her by the hand, “now you may dance in comfort and I may have the partner of my choice.”
    But she