Page 67 of A Widow for the Earl
“A lot has changed,” Beatrice replied drily, putting on the wicked smile she knew they all expected. “And yet, notsomuch. Why, just the other day, I was trying to conjure up a scheme to ensure that Lord Grayling never forgets the trouble he caused me.”
“That is more like it, Beatrice!” Anthony cheered, while Cyrus rolled his eyes.
It remained a mystery how Cyrus and Anthony had ever come to be such dear friends, one so quiet and reserved, the other always the loudest and merriest in any room. Then again, the same could be said of Beatrice and Teresa.
Perhaps, when two people were too similar, that was where problems arose.
“But why would you seek revenge?” Teresa asked, her tone somewhat anxious. “My brother has given you what you wanted. Admittedly, he took his time about it anddidcause you a great deal of upset, which I was very cross about, but surely Wycliffe Manor makes up for it?”
Beatrice cast a gentler smile toward her good friend, understanding that the poor girl was partially torn between a friend and a sibling. “That was what I concluded,” she assured. “Indeed,thisis better than any creative revenge, just being here with all of you, celebrating my triumph.”
The words echoed hollow in Beatrice’s chest, for though she should have been leaping for joy, thrilled that she had won her home back, she simply could not feel a lick of delight. Whenevershe tried, the night of the kiss came careening back into her head—not that it had ever left—and knocked her spirits down again.
Teresa exhaled in obvious relief. “I really am pleased that everything worked out.”
“I know you are, dearest Tess,” Beatrice replied, taking a sip of her champagne to hide her sad smile. “Although, I cannot deny it would have been satisfying to put some old meat in his luggage or to enact my grand scheme of ‘inviting’ every eligible lady in Christendom to his manor for a ‘private gathering.’ The uproar would have been delicious.”
Teresa giggled into her palm. “Goodness, I know he is my brother, but evenIshould have liked to witness that!”
“The night is still young,” Anthony interjected. “We could all work together to write the invitations; we would have them done in no time at all.”
It was Cyrus and Anthony’s other friend, Silas Rowland, who swooped in with the voice of reason. “The newly reinstated Lady Wycliffe has decided to be forgiving and generous; we should not tempt her back into trouble. Lord Grayling might have vacated her home, but what do you expect he would do if she executed a trick like that?”
“Ah,” Anthony said. “I had not thought of that.”
There were only three guests who did not seem so eager to join in with the conversation, all three staring at Beatrice as if she had taken ill with something deadly. Valeria, Duncan, and Frederick: their concern so intense that it radiated palpably through the drawing room of Thornhill Grange.
Beatrice did her best to ignore their worried looks. “In truth, the person I feel the sorriest for, who might be deserving of revenge, is Prudence. What a cruelty to send the poor thing to the north, instead of to Bath or London. It is as good as preventing her from engaging with society.”
Only Valeria knew the details of what had happened in the theater room, and why Vincent’s abrupt departure had been such a painful shock. And she had no doubt that Valeria had told Duncan, who was already on bad terms with Vincent. As for Frederick, Beatrice did not quite understand whyheseemed so concerned; he should have been the one cheering the loudest.
“It has been three days,” Teresa agreed, “and she has already written to me twice. I doubt she is eveninthe north yet.”
Rebecca sipped her champagne in thought. “A delay in resuming one’s place in society is not such a bad thing. I debuted and then took two years away from society, and it has not done me any harm. Yes, I will be competing with slightly younger women, but I like to think that my gentleman, whoever he is, will be waiting regardless.”
“That is because you are inconceivably wealthy,” Anthony pointed out, gaining a sharp look from Cyrus.
“And Prudence is not impoverished,” Rebecca countered. “She is the sister of one of the wealthiest men in England. Our circumstances are extremely similar, which is how I know that she will be perfectly fine.”
Just then, Frederick finally spoke. “Youarehappy, Trixie, are you not?” He paused. “When Valeria and Duncan invited us here, I thought you would be leaping and howling with joy. Yet, if I may, you do not seem like yourself.”
“It is the stress of it all,” Beatrice insisted, forcing one of her best smiles. “I feel as if I have been to battle, and though I have won, I have still been fighting for weeks. Does that make sense?”
She did not want one of her dearest friends to worry about her. She did not wantanyof her friends to worry about her. Her grief would pass in due time, her heart finding a way to heal, andthenshe would be the same Beatrice they all knew and cherished again. Until that point, she would just have to perform it until she felt it.
But playing a role was nothing new to her.
Frederick seemed to relax. “It does. You have suffered so much that it likely does not even feel real yet, that Wycliffe is more or less yours.”
“Yes, I suspect that is part of it,” Beatrice agreed. “Naturally, I would prefer if it wasactuallymine, but I think I ought to quit while I am ahead. My talents for persuasion are notquitepowerful enough to petition the Royal Court and win, but maybe they will be, one day.”
Anthony leaned forward in his spot on the settee. “If something were to happen to Lord Grayling, would the manor be yours entirely?”
“Anthony!” Cyrus barked.
Anthony’s eyes widened, his hands shooting up in a gesture of innocence that spilled a few drops of champagne onto the rug. “What? It was just a question.”
“It is unlikely,” Duncan replied, as he began to make his way around the room, refilling everyone’s glasses. “It ismorelikely that Wycliffe would be reclaimed by the Royal Court and sold to the highest bidder along with the title, or the lawyers would auction it as a residence only.”
