Page 57 of A Widow for the Earl
“Bea, come and show us that card trick of yours!” Teresa urged.
Valeria nodded. “I would learn it, so I can beat my darling Duncan in the next game we have together.”
She winked at her husband, who laughed with such love in his eyes that a tiny piece of Beatrice’s own heart slotted back into place.
All her life, Beatrice had never thought she would marry at all, or believed herself to be destined for a great and legendary love. But, perhaps,seeingsuch love all around her was her blessing. To see her dear cousin so happy, to see her friends so happy, and to champion every moment oftheirlove stories: if that was not love of its own, special kind, then Beatrice did not know what was.
I did not want to feel anything for you anyway, Vincent.
The traitorous butterflies in her stomach would just have to have their wings clipped, while the tender thoughts of him in her mind would simply have to be drowned out. As for her broken heart: no matter how long it took, she would put it back together again. And she would begin its repair by staying as far away from Vincent as possible, lest it shatter all over again, stomped into dust that reallywouldmake her eyes water.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The following day, back in the familiar surroundings of Wycliffe Manor, Beatrice sought to turn the tables on Vincent. She could not put distance between them by leaving the manor entirely, in case he prohibited her from returning, but she could avoid him the same way he had avoided her.
“A picnic,” Beatrice announced, bursting into the Sun Room where she knew Prudence would be spending the morning.
Prudence jumped, hurrying to close the thick letter on her lap. “Pardon?”
Beatrice lifted up the basket hanging from the crook of her elbow. “You and I are going to partake in a picnic, while the weather is still good and we are not cowering from the cold.” She nodded to the letter. “Something interesting?”
“The latest chapters of Miss Savage and Captain Frostheart. Tess let me borrow them,” Prudence replied, relaxing. “I thought youwere my brother. He would give up on me entirely if he knew I was reading them. Mama and Vincent never liked Tess reading them, either, but then shedidend up with a duke and a castle, so all was forgiven. Until I can do the same, I must keep my preferred literature a secret.”
Beatrice smiled. “Speaking of, have you heard from your mother at all?”
“Bewildered letters, begging me to come home,” Prudence replied with a roll of her eyes. “She is lonely at Grayling by herself and there is nothing worse than a Julianna Wilds who has nothing to do. Honestly, I am shocked she has not defied Vincent’s wishes and come to visit anyway.”
Beatrice nodded, putting the heavy basket onto her other arm. “Does she still not know why you are here?”
“Heavens, no, and no one must ever tell her,” Prudence replied, grimacing. “She would take leave of what little senses she has left.”
Staring off toward the hazy, late-morning sunlight, where the rich greens of the lawns dazzled with dew that had not yet burnt away, a curious thought came to Beatrice’s mind.
“I adore you being here, Pru, but why is it that you have not returned to Grayling? As soon as the scandal passed unnoticed, I was certain you would return home to resume your busy calendar of society events. Indeed, it will not be long before thisSeason ends, and everyone retreats until the London Season begins.”
Prudence pulled a disgruntled face. “Why do you think?” She huffed out a breath as she stuffed the controversial pages down the back of the armchair. “My brother has not yet permitted me to return. He does not think I can be trusted. Indeed, his last remark on the subject was that I would not be allowed to return to society until next year.”
“When did he say that?” Beatrice asked, feeling sorry for the girl.
“This morning. I was certain he would be more benevolent, but I was mistaken,” Prudence replied, getting to her feet. “If anything, he is beingmorestubborn.”
“Well, let us improve both of our moods with this picnic,” Beatrice insisted, gesturing toward the terrace doors with her free hand. “I know of the perfect place, and I cannot bear to be inside this house while the weather is so nice. I shall never understand society ladies’ innate fear of the sun.”
Prudence cast her a look, as if she knew that was not the only reason that Beatrice might be inclined to stay away from the manor. But she said nothing about it, opening up the terrace doors to let them both out onto those jeweled lawns.
They walked across the grass in companionable conversation, discussing the balls that Prudence had missed, who had been named and disgraced in the morning’s scandal sheets, and therather telling fact that Peter Swann had not deigned to write to her since the apple incident.
“I suppose my brother was half-right,” she said. “Ladies and gentlemen might have the capacity to be friends, but Peter and I certainly do not. I doubt I shall ever speak to him again after this.”
Beatrice chuckled. “He did not deserve you anyway, Pru. You need someone… remarkable.”
“Like Freddie?” Prudence sighed softly. “Now,heis a remarkable gentleman. I doubt I have ever encountered a gentleman so amusing and so thoughtful. You must tell meeverythingabout him.”
A frown furrowed Beatrice’s brow as they wandered on across the grass, joining the driveway so their shoes would not get soaked through. She adored Frederick, but the thought of him and Prudence in a courtship made her suddenly uneasy, as it had done when she had caught Prudence staring at him before.
“In truth, Pru, I do not think he would be deserving of you either,” she said diplomatically. “He is a second son, and unless something tragic were to happen to his brother,yourbrother would never agree to it. Indeed, he does not seem to like Freddie very much at all.”
“Yes, but that is not because of me,” Prudence insisted, deepening Beatrice’s frown.
