Page 31 of A Widow for the Earl
She grimaced. “I believe they were donated.”
She did not know for sure, but if they were not where Vincent could find them, they were likely far away by now.
“I thought they were your old ones,” she added. “They did not appear to be new and had not been shined in some time.”
Vincent looked like he might explode, the heaving rise and fall of his chest making it harder for him to maintain his decency. “I rescind our agreement.” His eyes flashed, his expression cold. “I will not bring another suitor to this house, but Iwilltake you toa ball. There, you will find a suitor, and you will never interfere in my life or my business again.”
“It was a mistake,” Beatrice urged, her hopes slipping, shrinking like the size of his clothes. “Please, Vincent, believe me when I say it will not happen again.”
But there was no leniency in his eyes, just simmering anger. “You are right; it will not happen again, because once you have found a suitor, a husband, you will be gone from here. I gave you a chance and you squandered it with petty games.”
He left abruptly, his words hanging heavily in the air. She, too, had thought they were beginning anew, with an understanding in place. For it all to come undone because of someone else’s actions made her heart sink, yet it would not change the choice thatshehad made. She would protect Margie, for she would rather lose her home than her maid, who had been more of a friend these past months.
“My lady?” Margie’s quiet voice drifted into the room, the maid peeking around the door.
Beatrice put on a smile. “All is well, Margie.” She paused. “But, please,please,never do anything like that again.”
“I won’t, my lady. I was just… trying to help, after what happened yesterday and all. I… I didn’t think.” Margie gulped loudly, on the brink of tears. “But all is truly well?”
“Of course,” Beatrice replied. “There is no harm done.”
The maid clearly felt bad enough; she did not need to hear that what she had done to Vincent’s clothes would undoubtedly mean the end of Beatrice’s tenure at Wycliffe. The end of peace and security and independence as Beatrice knew it.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Your new garments become you well,” Beatrice said from the opposite squabs, as the carriage swayed toward the country estate of Lord and Lady Huxtable.
Vincent did not shift his gaze from the sunset countryside, the fields and forests bathed in molten bronze. It was a beautiful evening for a not-so-beautiful event. Indeed, he would infinitely have preferred to be in the Sun Room—a place he had taken a liking to—to watch the sun disappear, and to perhaps take a walk in the cool dusk. Anything but a ball.
“Is that supposed to be funny?” he said gruffly.
“Not at all. Merely an observation.”
He peered at her out of the corner of his eye, searching her expression for any hint of deceit or sarcasm. He saw none: her head bowed, her hands clasped elegantly in her lap, as subdued now as she had been over the past few days. They had notencountered one another much, Vincent had made sure of it, but when they had crossed paths, she had been so very quiet. A ghost of herself.
I should be glad of it. Why am I not?
He chewed his lower lip in consternation, for it was not the only thing that had been vexing him. Over the past few days, with Beatrice staying out of his way, he should have been able to dedicate all of his time to his work. Yet, he had not been able to concentrate at all. He had paused at every sound, wondering if it was her. He had found himself thinking of venturing out of his study to see where she was. He had considered inviting her to look over the estate accounts, and to subtly see how she was faring.
Of course, he had done none of those things, stuck at his desk, getting nothing done at all.
“If I may, I think I did you a great favor,” she said, tossing a spark toward his quick temper. “These clothes are more befitting of an earl. Your other clothes were not terrible, but they were not nearly so fashionable. I imagine you will draw plenty of attention tonight.”
He finally looked at her. “Is this a joke at my expense? Do you think I look ridiculous?”
“I would say that if I thought it,” she replied, her chin still dipped to her chest. “Your valet chose well. In truth, I think he was waiting for an opportunity to refresh your wardrobe.”
Vincent made a grunt of disapproval. “Yes, well, I would have preferred to be told I was in need of new clothes, instead of finding them all destroyed.”
“I am sorry for that,” she said quietly. “Old habits are the hardest to break.”
He gazed at her a while longer, curious as to why she was wearing a thick cloak when it was not so very cold outside. This version of her troubled him, for he could not tell if she was truly repentant, or just sorry that he had withdrawn his promise to let her stay. Perhaps, she was not used to consequences.
I could not have been lenient. If I had, she would have done it again. Done worse, perhaps.
But what if her antics had been in response to something else? The way he had looked at her lips, maybe? What if that had been her way of warning him off, without the embarrassment of saying it? After Lord Mancefield’s behavior, she could not be blamed for behaving rashly in the face of a man’s misconduct.
And I did linger too long, and too close…
