Chapter 32 #2
“Would you—well, would you mind if I spoke bluntly?” he asked.
“Please do,” she urged. “In fact, I insist upon it.”
“I should like to marry you, Beatrice,” Henry replied hastily.
There it was. Everything Algernon had hoped for.
Beatrice tried to reach for even just a kernel of excitement within her, but she could not find it.
“That is a very lovely offer, Henry,” she simply replied.
“Kind of you to say, but I need to confess something first,” Henry said in equal haste as before. “You were correct. I do have a secret. One that my brother has been trying most determinedly to keep from the ton.”
“Whatever your secret is, Henry, it is safe with me,” Beatrice promised.
Henry stopped walking as they reached the middle of the gardens, and he took Beatrice’s free hand. There was no spark from his touch, no shiver down her spine. It was simply flesh touching flesh.
He drew in a shaky breath, and for a moment, Beatrice feared he might faint from how frightened he looked.
“You are safe with me,” she repeated, squeezing his hand for comfort.
Henry’s eyes flicked up to hers, and in them, she saw a mixture of unshed tears, gratitude, and fear.
“I do love you, Beatrice,” he said, squeezing her hand tight.
“You are a lovely, wonderfully pure and kind soul. Your compassion for others is astonishing, and the way you have attempted to soothe things between my brother and I has not gone unnoticed. If we were to marry, I would love to be your closest friend and confidante. I would treasure you, protect you, give you anything you asked for.”
He paused, biting his lips as his brows furrowed.
“But I could not ever be in love with you,” he confessed, his voice breaking. “Nor could I give you the intimate sort of relationship most husbands share with their wives because I—I—”
“Because your tastes run toward men?” Beatrice quietly offered after Henry appeared to struggle some more.
His sage green eyes grew large as he grew paler than before.
“What have you heard?” he whispered.
“Nothing!” she quickly assured, and without thinking, she stepped in to hug him.
It was the closest she had come to someone who was not Algernon, but her urge to comfort him overrode her own sorrow.
“No one has breathed a word,” she promised, holding him tight as she felt him tremble with fear.
“I just—well I am more observant than people realize, and I have known men like you. No one of nobility, but I have witnessed certain traits. It was not until recently that I put it together that you may be that certain sort of man, but even then, I did not know for certain.”
Regret flashed through his eyes.
“Traits,” he said the word bitterly. “For example, leaving you at a party to walk away with a man.”
Beatrice crinkled her nose.
“It was obvious to me how much your character changed once you saw that man,” Beatrice slowly explained.
“You were very happy to be my side, but after you conversed with that gentleman? You positively glowed. There was an excitement in your eyes that far exceeded our fun of the evening. Again, it was something that the others would not notice. Only someone who knew you well would have seen the difference.”
Henry nibbled at the corner of his bottom lip, making him appear more like a lost, frightened boy than the grown man he was.
“I tried, you know,” he rasped. “When I was younger, I tried very hard to like women. I could flirt effortlessly, I could charm, but—but when it came to something more serious, I never could make myself—I could never feel what I was supposed to feel.”
Beatrice reached up and cupped his cheek, urging him to look at her. It took a moment, but eventually, he did, his green eyes watery and full of emotion.
“I cannot imagine how hard this has all been for you,” Beatrice confessed, “but what I do know is that you are a wonderful person who should have to be nothing more than what you are.”
A tortured sound erupted from Henry’s lip, and he leaned forward, pressing his forehead to hers. She let him lean on her as long as he needed while he gathered himself. After a few moments, Henry exhaled a breath and leaned away.
“When my brother…” he went on after a moment.
“When he… caught me… kissing another man, he warned me that I was getting too relaxed with my measures.
I thought he was simply put off by what he saw and wanted to shame me, but now—now that I know what you noticed at the ball, I am starting to understand that Auggie was just trying to look after me as usual.
“He is right. I have become far too relaxed in my secret. It is becoming harder to keep. I am starting to slip. Starting to reveal myself. If I were to be caught, the ton would ostracize me. Some members might even try to kill me. It is not a love that most understand.”
Henry let out another shuddering breath as he grasped her upper arms and gently held her away from him, his eyes searching hers.
“You truly do not judge me for this secret?” he asked.
Beatrice gave him a small smile and shook her head.
“And in return, I hope you do not judge me for mine,” she replied.
This time, it was she that struggled with the confidence to speak.
“Tell me,” Henry urged, his fingers gently tightening on her shoulders. “Whatever it is I already do not care. If you are willing to accept me for who I am, then I am surely willing to accept you.”
Comforted by his words, Beatrice gave a stiff nod and drew in a steadying breath. I am in love with your brother.
“I did not come from France,” she said instead. There were many things she could confess today, but her love for Algernon was not one of them.
“In fact, I have never been outside of England at all. Barely even outside of London save for a few summers with my mother when I was very young.”
Henry’s brows dipped with curiosity, but he nodded.
“Very well then. Where did you come from?”
“I am a lady by birthright,” she stated. “That much is true. However when I was younger, my father chose to refuse my presence. After my mother died, he made me a servant and remarried a woman who had a daughter that he wanted to claim.”
Henry’s face contorted with disgust.
“How awful,” he breathed. “So how did you come to know my brother?”
Beatrice drew in another steadying breath, fresh pain flashing through her heart as she remembered that awful day. It seemed so long ago now, but in truth, it had barely been two months.
“My father decided he could no longer take my presence, even as a servant. He told me he had found me a husband at first, which was why I was so willing to go with him. I thought to be married would be better than the life I lived, so I made no complaint.
“Then he took me to this… awful place. A gambling hell of sorts that sells women at auction. Algernon was there. He outbid the other men trying to purchase me by a large sum and brought me here.”
“He—my brother? Purchased you? From a horrid place like that?” Henry asked.
Beatrice gave him a weak smile. It was very clear he was having trouble wrapping his head around such things.
“Your brother told me that he does not frequent such places, and I believe him,” Beatrice replied.
“He is not that sort of man. He bought me for…
well… you. I suppose he thought that a woman who was being sold at auction would be willing to go along with anything if it meant it led to a marriage, and well, he was right. At least about me.
“Some—most of those women I learned are purchased by brothels or men that only wish to use them as mistresses. I very much did not want to become either. So I have to confess that in the beginning, I only went along with this because I needed an alternative.”
Hurt glimmered in Henry’s eyes, but he did not speak.
“Then I got to know you,” Beatrice pushed on, “and I found you easy to be around. Easy to laugh with. You were polite and witty and kind, and you made me feel seen as more than just a servant. I started to think what a joy it would be to be married to someone like you. Even if such a marriage was only one of friendship.”
Her story ended, Beatrice stepped out from Henry’s grip and waited. He had given her an opportunity to hear his truth and decide what she wanted. Now she had to do the same for him.
Henry was quiet for a long time as they stood in the soft, warm summer breeze. Occasionally, he would look at her. Other times, he turned to look up at the house. Even she did once, half-expecting to find Algernon there, watching them.
He wasn’t.
Then Henry reached for her hand and pulled her close.
“I want us to know everything about one another,” Henry said, his tone and expression gravely serious.
“Every sordid detail. Every hurt. And I want you to make me a promise. The world may want to judge us, but make a promise with me right here and now that we will never do that one another. We will be friends—the best of friends—and watch out for one another for the rest of our days.”
Relief trickled into Beatrice’s heartache, and this time as she smiled, it actually felt genuine.
“I promise,” she answered, squeezing his hand return.
Henry let out a breath of relief, and they embraced again.
“I am not comfortable how this plan of my brothers was brought about,” he confessed, “but I must admit that I would rather you be here than anywhere else. You deserve so much more than to simply be a mistress or a courtesan. And with our marriage, you will never have to fear being forced into that life ever again.”
“Thank you,” Beatrice whispered, and leaning up on her toes, she placed a kiss on his cheek.
“We shall make this life of ours good, Beatrice,” Henry insisted then he placed a kiss on her forehead. “I swear it.”
It was a soft kiss. Sweet. Innocent. One that a brother would bestow upon a sister—or best friend.
“So, Lady Beatrice,” Henry said, his usual dramatic flair returning as he went to one knee, grinning from ear to ear, “shall we make this official?”
Beatrice couldn’t help but giggle as she gave him her left hand and looked down at him.
“I suppose we should,” she agreed, matching his lightheartedness of the situation.
Henry pulled out a small gold ring with a round sapphire stone set in the middle.
“Will you, Lady Beatrice Cooper, do me the honor of becoming my wife, my friend, and my keeper of secrets?” he asked.
It was not the proposal she truly wanted. However, the life that Henry could offer her? It sounded quite lovely.
“I will,” she replied.
Henry positively beamed as he slid the ring onto her finger then he stood and once more kissed her forehead.
“You know I will be designing your gown, right?” he asked, his brows perking up with attitude as he continued to grin. “I cannot have my bride in anything less than gorgeous perfection.”
Beatrice giggled as they both turned to head back to the house, their arms draped leisurely around one another’s backs.
“I would suspect no less,” she replied. “Though I pray, no giant flowers this time.”
Henry chuckled but agreed.
“So,” he sighed as they neared the house a short while later, “shall we go interrupt my overly meddling grump of a big brother? Let him know his plan worked? I must warn you though, he will gloat.”
Beatrice’s smile faded as another wave of pain swept through her chest.
“Umm, no. You can tell him on your own. Algernon and I have been stepping on each other’s toes lately, and it has become most annoying. Your proposal comes at quite the convenient time. I am certain he is looking forward to being done with me.”
Henry chortled.
“You annoy one another?” he asked.
“Greatly,” Beatrice said with a humorless laugh.
“Well, my dear, Beatrice, I had thought that I was as observant as you were, but clearly, I was wrong. The way he was acting toward you, with you, I had been sure that my brother was falling in love with you.”
His words hurt so much that Beatrice could not reach for a false smile or laugh this time. In fact, she had to hold her breath for several seconds as tears threatened to spring to her eyes again.
“No,” she said hoarsely. “No, Algernon is certainly not in love with me.”