Page 38 of A Widow for the Earl
The cook smiled. “I’ll make you up a luncheon to take.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Stephens,” Beatrice replied, wishing with all of her heart that the distance was shorter.
Thornhill Grange had a haunting beauty that reminded Beatrice keenly of Fetterton: warm red brick in a Tudor style,interspersed with whitewashed sections of wall that resembled daub, crossed with dark wooden beams. A manor that had well and truly been lived in, probably one of the oldest in the country.
As the carriage drew to a halt, a smiling figure emerged from the low porch, ducking under the tangle of slender, leafy branches that would erupt with wisteria when early summer came around again.
“Bea!” Valeria raised a hand in a wave, approaching to open the carriage door.
She held her one-year-old daughter, Charlotte, in her arms, the child beaming as wide as her mother, stretching out small arms toward Beatrice.
“What are you doing here?” Valeria asked, laughing as she handed the child over.
Beatrice bounced the child lightly on her hip, pressing a flurry of kisses to the little girl’s wispy hair. “I was at a loss,” she replied, pulling funny faces for the child’s amusement. “So, I thought I would visit my dear cousin and this tiny princess. After all, you have been banned frommyresidence.”
“His mood has not lightened, then?” Valeria muttered, shaking her head. “I never thought he would be such an unreasonable man. Isolde used to tell me he was grumpy and strict, but for a gentleman who puts so much value on manners, I cannot get over his rudeness at your house party. Duncan is still annoyed with him.”
Beatrice shrugged, swaying the little girl from side to side. “His mood is… mercurial, shall we say.”
The man last night in the entrance hall had not at all been the same man who had scolded her in front of her friends and sent them all away. The man last night had been someone that she had, briefly, wanted to be close to. So much so that when he had walked off, she had felt the wrench of his departure. Shestillfelt it, or she would not have been there at Thornhill Grange, instead of enjoying her solitude at Wycliffe.
“Part of me wonders if he simply does not know how to have fun,” she continued, more to herself than to her cousin. “As such, he does not like it whenothersare having fun, because it is a foreign concept to him.”
Valeria laughed softly. “I think you may be closer to the truth there than you think.” She paused, worry creasing her smooth brow. “Has everything been officiated yet? Your arrival here is not permanent, is it? Not that I would be at all sorry if you were to come and live with us forever. This little one would be thrilled, as would I.”
“You have been worrying about me, have you not?” Beatrice sighed, smiling. “I have told you; there is no need for you to worry about me. I always manage to land on my feet, and I have not yet exhausted all of my ideas to gethimto leave Wycliffe.”
She quickly hurried through all of her attempts thus far, skirting around the worst part of Lord Mancefield’s visit. Her cousin would only worry more. But the more she spoke of what she hadalready done to try and persuade Vincent to leave Wycliffe, the more discouraged she became. Shewasout of ideas, in truth, for nothing seemed to break through the man’s staunch belief that a woman could not be left in charge of a manor.
Valeria drew in a heavy breath, reaching up to brush a lock of hair out of Beatrice’s face. “Be honest with me, dearest cousin.” She hesitated. “You are not yourself. There is always such fire in your eyes, Bea, but… it has dimmed, slowly but surely. I can tell that you are tired of this, tired of giving so much and gaining so little, tired of fighting for your security.”
“There is not much else I can do, Valery,” Beatrice replied, her voice catching. “My father will not have me back, and I do not want togoback, as much as I miss Fetterton. But nor do I want to marry again, and risk yet more suspicion and ridicule. I am… stuck, Cousin, and… do not know what to do.”
Her entire being felt heavier and lighter, all at once, having thrown the partial truth of her feelings into the wind. And once she had begun, she could not stop.
“He tells me that I may stay, but then I do something… stupid, and he rescinds the promise again, and now I am… more confused than when he first arrived,” she said thickly, stroking the little girl’s hair to try and distract herself from the sadness that swelled within her. “He is strict and dismissive, but then… inexplicably, he shows me kindness, and I…”
Valeria furrowed her brow, staring at Beatrice as if she might find a solution somewhere upon her face. “Do you think,perhaps, that he isalsotrying to get you to leave of your own accord? Do you think these are… tricks of some kind?”
“I do not know,” Beatrice replied with a weary sigh. “I do not think so. The way he spoke to me last night, it was… so soft and so caring, as if he actually had some concern about what happens to me. It is not the first time, not quite. There was a… moment—No, forget I said that. It is nonsense. He hates me, I hate him, and both of us are too stubborn to be the one to relent.”
Valeria rested a hand on her hip, shielding her eyes from the sun with the other. “No, tell me more about this ‘moment.’ What sort of moment are we talking about?”
“Nothing,” Beatrice insisted. “I cannot get my thoughts in order, that is all, much less my words.”
“Are you, perhaps, softening toward him?” Valeria asked, her gaze intent, that worry lingering upon her brow. “It would not be so strange if you were to… become closer to the gentleman who essentially owns Wycliffe. Indeed, if you were to fall for him, and him for you, that would be theidealsolution.”
Beatrice scoffed so hard she half-startled Charlotte, who jolted in surprise, and looked, for a moment, like she might cry. Panicking, Beatrice began to pull funny faces again, speaking nonsense in a high-pitched, silly voice, until the little girl relaxed into giggles once more.
“In case that was not clear,” Beatrice said in that same, silly voice, “Iabsolutelyam not falling for Vincent. I am just, as I said, somewhat confused and discouraged.”
Valeria nodded slowly. “If you are sure.”
“Of course I am sure,” Beatrice muttered. “If anything, this has only improved my resolve to keep pushing him until, at last, he breaks and leaves and never returns. Yes, quite, for if I never saw him again, it would be too soon.”
She put on what she hoped was a decisive, determined expression, while her mind remained in turmoil, thinking of him.Wondering why he had gone without saying a word this morning, and why on earth his sudden absence bothered her so very much.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
