Chapter 17 #2
“But that’s what love is, Giovanni,” she brushed away her tears, trying not to sob. “And that’s what I thought I felt for you. And what you felt for me. Last night, I would have believed you’d do anything for me—but this is one line you won’t cross.”
“Isn’t that honorable?” Giovanni asked desperately. “Isn’t it a mark of character that I refuse to betray him?”
“And yet you’ll betray me.” Beatrice closed her eyes. “What else can you call it when we have all but lain together, and you still cannot bring yourself to honor any feelings there are between us?”
“Because I care!” Giovanni exploded. “Because I’m trying to protect you and don’t want to hurt you!”
“It is too late for that,” she said through gritted teeth. Beatrice stared at him, spreading her hands at her side. “Here I am, Gio. You’ve hurt me. So, it hasn’t worked. And even now, if you said you would have me, I would still come to you, but that’s not going to happen, is it?”
Beatrice waited for a heart-rending moment. She stared at him.
Please say yes, please say you love me, please say you will marry me, please say that all of this is as real to you as it is to me.
He didn’t say a word. Beatrice nodded curtly, holding her feelings in. She would not break down in front of him.
“I thought so,” she brushed down the front of her gown to avoid looking at him. “I will leave you to get dressed.”
“You shouldn’t go outside, Bea,” Giovanni warned quietly.
“I shall wait in the breakfast room—you won’t have to worry about my safety,” she said sarcastically. Sweeping up her cloak, she walked to the door, jerking it open.
“Beatrice, please stay.” He sounded so broken at that moment that she nearly turned around. No. She tightened her fist on the doorknob and blinked hard.
“I can’t, Giovanni,” she said. “I’m done.”
“Amore, please?—”
“Don’t call me that!” Beatrice whipped her head around to glare at him, unable to stop heartbroken tears from falling down her cheeks. “Don’t call me that. Not unless you mean it.”
Dressed and ready for travel, Giovanni walked into the common breakfast room looking for Beatrice.
“Looking for your wife, sir?” The sweet-looking maid from the night before appeared, her cheeks bonny with a red bloom.
“Uh, yes, I am.” Giovanni nodded.
“Master put her in the little dining nook in the main room.” The maid nodded to a corner. “Since she was alone, and it being so early in the morning.”
“That’s kind, thank you.” Giovanni felt guilty that Beatrice had been out here alone.
He had perhaps taken a little longer than he should.
He had needed some time to recover from their encounter and to process her words.
Even after washing his face, combing his hair, and berating himself furiously, he still had no idea how to make it right between them. He wasn’t even sure if he should try.
“She’s a very fine lady,” the maid said, smiling at him. “Have you been married long?”
“No, only a little while,” Giovanni stammered as he lied.
“Well, you seem like a truly lovely pairing,” the maid said. “God bless you both, sir.”
Giovanni nodded to her awkwardly and moved through the breakfast room, which was starting to fill with some early risers.
It was just gone six in the morning, and the summer sunshine was already beginning to fill the room.
The rain had moved on. They would have a clear ride to Fallenbrook.
He saw his coach master eagerly tucking into some eggs at the bar.
“Morning, sir,” the coach master said, touching his hand respectfully to his forelock.
“How is it outside?” Giovanni asked, leaning against the bar.
“It’s very fair,” the coach master nodded. “Good visibility o’er the hills.”
“Is the carriage all right after the floods?” Giovanni asked.
“All correct,” the coach master swallowed a bite and nodded. “Once I’m finished up, we’ll be ready to get away.”
“Good, thank you.” Giovanni nodded, trying to hide the sinking feeling he had in his stomach.
Part of him had hoped that there was something wrong with the carriage or that the weather was still bad so that he and Beatrice could remain here, where they had first been intimate, when they had been truly happy together.
But it could not be. Sighing heavily, Giovanni pushed himself off the bar and moved towards the nook.
“Beatrice?”
She was sitting in a ray of sunlight, looking like the perfect picture of a fine lady breakfasting. She had a small cup of tea in front of her and a plate of toast that she had not touched, the pot of marmalade still sealed.
“Yes?” She looked up at him, and he saw a flicker of pain in her eyes. He hated that this was her reaction to him now. She looked down at her tea. “What is it?”
“We’ll be ready to go soon.”
Beatrice nodded. She looked tired. There were dark circles under her eyes. Giovanni wished he could hold her to him and stroke her head, ease her weariness. He didn’t.
“Will you take any refreshment before we go?” Beatrice asked quietly.
“No, I am fine.” Giovanni couldn’t even imagine eating right now, despite knowing he must be hungry after their night of amorous activities. His stomach was in knots.
“Sir? I am ready,” the coachman appeared at his shoulder, straightening his hat. “The boys have brought the luggage from your room. If you settle up, we shall be ready to go.”
“Thank you.” Giovanni nodded.
Beatrice was rising, pulling on her gloves and her cape.
“I shall sit in the coach whilst you manage the bill,” she said quietly, ducking past him.
“Bea,” he didn’t want to do it, but he reached out and grabbed her hand.
She stopped, staring straight ahead and refusing to look at him. Giovanni didn’t care.
“Don’t, Giovanni,” she whispered sternly.
“Please,” he said hoarsely. “All I want is to hold your hand, just for a moment.”
“Why?” Beatrice still refused to look at him.
“Because I want to hold onto this for one more moment before everything goes back to how it was. It’s been like a dream, this time with you.” He ran his fingers up her forearm and back down. He saw the way her breath caught as he did. “I just want to hold onto it. A little longer.”
“But that’s what it was, wasn’t it? A dream.” Beatrice turned to look at him, her eyes full of sadness. She pulled her hand away. “Just a dream.”
He watched her walk out of the inn. He paid the bill and said goodbye to the kind innkeeper and the sweet maid, his mind only focused on one thing.
He didn’t want it to be a dream. He wanted it to be real.
How could he make it real? As he climbed into the carriage, he looked at Beatrice, whose face was turned defiantly to the window so she wouldn’t have to look at him anymore. Her words in the room came back to him.
Don’t call me that. Not unless you mean it.
Amore. My love. He loved her, he knew he did. All he wanted was to tell her.
I love you, Beatrice Klane. I have always loved you. I will always love you. I love you with my whole heart.
He didn’t say anything. They drove back to Fallenbrook in silence.