Page 80 of Her Tiger of a Duke
Beatrice noted the other people around, watching, and decided that was not the best way to spend their time.
“How about,” she suggested instead, “you all have a stick race?”
She took them to a small bridge and had them all collect some sticks. Then, she showed them how to drop them over at the same time to see which one passed under the bridge first.
They played well together, squealing each time the sticks reappeared, and though there were disagreements about whose was whose, there were no arguments. Slowly, Beatrice stepped away from them, her eye on them all the while, so that she could truly take it in. It was what she had wanted for herself; a loving family that enjoyed spending time with one another, but that was not meant to be.
She had the Hunter children, and it would be enough, but she knew that she would always have that dream in her mind of having her own.
“Your Grace?” a voice came.
Beatrice turned to see Lord Stanton, Owen’s friend, looking at her with a confused expression.
“Good afternoon, My Lord,” she greeted. “What brings you here?”
“I could ask the same of you. I live here. You, on the other hand, are supposed to be in the north if I am not mistaken. Did you both come home early?”
“Yes,” she agreed, then realizing that the lie would not last. “Well, no. His Grace and I had a dispute, and I cannot look at him the same anymore. I will not say too much, for you are his friend and I do not want you to see him differently.”
He paused for a moment, as if wondering whether he could say what he wanted to or not.
“He has told you about Lydia, then.”
“Did you know?”
“I did, though only because I have known him for a very long time. I am the only person other than his staff who knows the truth. Even Owen himself does not seem to know the truth.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, he blames himself entirely, even though it was not his fault at all. There was nothing that he could have done.”
“He said that he was the one who killed her.”
Lord Stanton frowned, watching the children just as she was.
“He took Lydia’s death very badly. She had an argument with their father and went for a ride in the woods, the ones behind the household. It was raining, and she went too close to the river. She was thrown in by her horse when she tried to jump across.”
Beatrice prickled, thinking of how hard Owen had tried to keep her from the forest. She remembered looking at the water, and how quickly it moved, and felt a knot in her stomach.
“He was the one who found her,” Lord Stanton continued. “I can only imagine what she looked like, for he had never told me. All that I know is it changed him irreparably. He blames himself, because he thought that he could have made her stay. She had refused to let him join her, and he relented in the end, and that is why he feels guilty.”
“But her accident was not his fault.”
“I know, as does your housekeeper, but he does not believe it. He thinks that we are trying to make him feel better, and his guilt refuses to subside. I was skeptical when I met Lady Helena, for the resemblance was uncanny, but I thought it might help him if he was able to save a lady.”
Beatrice’s heart ached for her husband. She was furious with him, but she loved him too, and she wished she could have been the one to prove his innocence to him.
“It is an awful story,” she sighed. “But if he does not want to tell me all of this himself, and to try to mend things with me, then my mind is unchanged. What else could I possibly do?”
“I understand, even if I wish you could stay a while longer. You are a good match for him, you know. You force him to be happy, because one cannot be sad near you.”
It was an odd compliment to receive, Beatrice thought, but a nice one. She had never been complimented on her beauty or her intelligence, but being told that she made people feel happy seemed to outweigh either of those.
“You are most kind, but I do not think that I made him that happy. If I did, he would have trusted me more.”
“I believe that is precisely why he could not tell you. Owen has been sullen for a long time, not knowing what to do with himself, and when you came into his life you changed that. I suspect that he was afraid of being honest with you and ruining it.”
“But that was all I wanted from him.”
