Page 89 of A Bargain with the Rakish Duke
Kenneth was on his feet before she could finish, his hand clenching into a fist at his side.
“Get out,” he snarled, his vision red with rage. “Get out of my house, and never come back.”
“But I?—”
“I do not care to hear any more of your words, Lady Featherwell. Leave.”
Lady Featherwell rose, her expression one of mock hurt.
“As you wish, Your Grace,” she said, sauntering towards the door. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
The moment she was gone, Kenneth started barking orders at his servants to prepare for his immediate return to London. His mind raced with a maelstrom of fury and betrayal and a sickening, twisting fear that he had been played for a fool.
Beatrice and Eastfold…
The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth.
All this time, while I’ve been here, mourning her absence, she’s been in London, playing the merry widow with that snake.
The journey back to the city passed in a blur, Kenneth’s anger simmering just beneath the surface.
By the time he reached their townhouse, he was ready to explode, his temper hanging by a thread.
He found Beatrice in her studio, sitting before a blank canvas, her face a mask of misery.
At the sight of him, her eyes widened, shock and something that looked almost like fear flashing across her face.
“Kenneth,” she said, her voice trembling. “What are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here?” he repeated, his tone mocking. “I could ask you the same thing, dear wife. Or perhaps I should ask Lord Eastfold. I hear you two have become quite close in my absence.”
Beatrice’s face paled, her hands twisting in her lap. “Kenneth, it’s not what you think?—”
But he cut her off, his anger boiling over. “Isn’t it? You couldn’t wait to be rid of me, couldn’t wait to run back to London and your precious art. And Eastfold was only too happy to keep you company, wasn’t he? Tell me, Beatrice, how long have you been making a fool of me?”
She was instantly on her feet, her temper flaring. “How dare you?” she cried, her voice shaking with fury and hurt. “How dare you accuse me of being unfaithful? I have donenothingto deserve your mistrust, your jealousy. Eastfold is blackmailing me, Kenneth. He discovered my identity as Westback, and he’s forcing me to paint for him, to sell my work through him. That’s why I’ve been meeting with him. That’s why I stayed in London. To protect my secret, to protect my art.”
Kenneth stared at her, shock and a sickening sense of guilt washing over him.
“Beatrice,” he choked out, his voice rough with emotion. “I… I didn’t know. I’m sorry, I should have trusted you, should have?—”
“Yes, you should have,” she snapped, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “But you didn’t. You never do. One day you want me, the next you push me away. One day you’re jealous, accusing me of betrayal, the next you’re apologizing, begging for forgiveness. I can’t do this anymore, Kenneth. I can’t live like this, never knowing where I stand with you, never certain of your faith in me.”
Kenneth’s expression softened with regret. “I didn’t know. I never meant to hurt you like this.”
Beatrice took a shaky breath, her voice trembling. “Yet you still have. More than you can imagine.”
Kenneth reached out, his hand hovering near her arm. “Beatrice?—”
“I’m sorry, Kenneth, but I can’t do this anymore,” Beatrice murmured, her voice breaking. “I need time, space to think, to heal. And I can’t do that here with you.”
But before he could say anything more, Beatrice turned and stumbled out of the room.
Kenneth stood frozen, watching her go, his own heart heavy with the realization of how deeply he had failed her.
He let out a long, shuddering breath, his hands shaking as he walked over to the decanter on the sideboard. Pouring himself a generous measure of brandy, he downed it in one gulp, the liquid burning its way down his throat. The pain in his chest was a dull, relentless throb, matching the ache of regret that settled deep within him.
“Kenneth, dear, you look dreadful,” Lady Bernmere remarked as she entered the study, carrying a small, well-worn notebook and a cup of tea.
