Chapter Five #2
‘He’s always held that over me,’ he grimaced.
‘The fact is, now that William is gone, we both know his title will pass to me, whether he—or I—like it or not. He could redirect his wealth and estate, but I do not think he would. His sole concern has always been our family’s standing in Society.
If it happened, yes, I would be sad to lose this place and all the memories it holds, but I have made my own fortune from the mill.
I do not need my father’s coin; it was always his approval that mattered—perhaps because it is so hard won. ’
She paused on the path. ‘I am sorry for the things he said yesterday,’ she frowned. ‘I am sure he didn’t mean it.’
Edward ran a hand around the back of his neck.
The man had often been cold over the years, but never so cruel.
And yet, had he really said anything that Edward didn’t already know?
‘I am certain he did.’ It was warm with the sun beating down on them, and he loosened his cravat.
‘I think I told you, when we met, that William was always the favourite. I have always foolishly harboured the desire that my father would one day take me to one side, put his arm round me and say he was proud of me, just like he did with William.’
It was absurd. Edward could never fully respect the man after the things he’d done. In fact, he resented him. Yet he still found himself craving his father’s attention and admiration, possibly because he’d been deprived of them for so long.
‘Unfortunately, I have never been able to live up to my father’s high expectations. I will always be one big disappointment to the man. This, today, has just proved that to be true once again.’
Bea drew in a sharp breath and he cursed. He took a step towards her. ‘That was a foolish thing to say, forgive me.’ He shook his head.
She tipped her chin up. ‘You and William were close, despite all this?’ she asked, apparently willing to ignore his blunder. His muscles loosened. He was glad it hadn’t led to cross words.
He began to walk again. ‘For two people who were raised in a strict, stifled manner, yes, we were. I idolised him. To me, my brother burned brighter than the sun. He knew what my father was like and made light of it, often taking the sting away. He was always a cushion between the two of us, now there’s no one to soften the blows of his harsh words.
’ The bridge between father and son had vanished, and Edward didn’t know how to reach him.
‘You must miss William very much.’
‘Every day. Thomas was his middle name,’ he said. ‘I take some comfort from that.’
‘I had no idea,’ she gasped. ‘That explains your father’s reaction to the name yesterday.’
‘I think he was speechless at the coincidence. So was I, when you told me.’ He inclined his head.
‘William always said I must keep trying with my father, so I will. For him. If he’d heard us arguing yesterday, my brother would have been turning in his grave.
I do not know how long my father has left and I do not want to regret my last words to him.
I want to be the man my brother thought I could be. To live up to his memory.’
‘Edward, what about your mother—where is she?’ Bea asked.
He had known the question would come up soon enough, but despite all the years that had passed, he had never grown used to answering it. It still wounded him, to utter the words out loud.
‘She went away, when I was a boy. I was ten. The same age you were when you lost your mother. I haven’t seen her since. But it’s not something I like to talk about, so let’s not, especially today.’
But the truth was, he wasn’t sure he could ever tell her the full facts about that time.
It filled him with a sense of self-loathing—that he had just sat by and watched it happen.
Yes, he had only been a boy, but still… He didn’t want to confess or share the pain with Bea.
Like everyone else in the ton, she would pass judgement.
Or she would look at him with concern in her eyes, with a fear that his mother’s condition was hereditary—that history could repeat itself.
No. It would mean letting her in, letting down his guard—something he had determined not to do.
Longwood Hall loomed large ahead of them.
It was such a grand place, the symmetry of the building both beautiful and forbidding all at once, and he could barely believe he was set to inherit it—if his father didn’t follow through with his threat.
He’d never imagined it would ever be his—he had been happy for his brother to have it.
But it was a legacy to protect for his own son now.
Suddenly, Bea let out a giggle, and he turned to look at her, taken by surprise. It was a glorious sound. ‘Is something amusing?’
‘Sorry,’ she said, as she clamped a hand over her mouth, horrified she’d let it slip out. He halted walking and turned to look at her.
‘What is it?’ he asked.
She shook her head.
‘Beatrice.’
She removed her hand. ‘It’s just—’ She grinned.
‘Are we really going to live here?’ Another giggle escaped.
‘It’s a little over the top, don’t you think?
I mean, who needs this much of a garden?
And that many rooms? If you saw where I used to live…
’ She seemed to give herself permission to laugh freely, unable to stop herself.
She even wiped a tear from her eye. ‘I wonder what the matron at the workhouse would say about this… I can still picture her, with her whistle and a ledger, looking all stern. If she could only see me now.’
Edward shuddered at the thought of her living in a workhouse. But as he watched the delight cross her face, he realised she seemed to be finding her past life and current situation amusing, as if she couldn’t believe the change. It was infectious and he smiled along with her.
She wasn’t being boastful. He knew she genuinely found the situation absurd.
He liked that her honesty cut through the pretentiousness of his world—it had both disarmed him and liberated him from the moment they’d met.
She wasn’t like other women. She didn’t care about status.
He knew, because she had slept with him not knowing he was the son of a duke.
That night, she had liked him for him. And now?
He wasn’t sure if like was the right word to describe this burning attraction he felt smouldering between them.
Every time their arms brushed as they walked along the path, he wanted to stop and draw her into his embrace, to bring her up close to his body.
‘Is it as nice as it looks on the inside?’ she asked, composing herself.
‘Better. There has not been a woman in the hall since my mother went away. I hope you like it.’ He couldn’t imagine them living with his father, yet he quietly hoped the proximity would soften the Duke’s stance towards them.
‘Do we really need to use that maddening little bell to call Mrs Potter?’ she said, astounding him again. ‘It reminds me far too much of the whistle in the workhouse. I mean, would you like to be called by a bell? I’d much rather be called by my name.’
He didn’t like the idea of a much younger Bea being summoned with a whistle to follow commands. He nodded. ‘No more bell then.’
They took the steps up to the entrance where a footman was waiting for them, holding open the door.
‘Welcome back to Longwood, Lord and Lady Harrington,’ he said.
Edward glanced at Bea and saw the consternation cross her face before she looked up at him.
‘Shall I carry you over the threshold?’ he asked.
She shook her head. ‘No! I’m far too heavy,’ she said, looking at the door and the vast hallway beyond, as if she was about to be thrown into the fray.
‘It is tradition.’ Feeling wicked, without another word, he swept her up into his arms. She clutched his shoulders, letting out a little yelp.
The feel of her in his arms again disturbed him, how light she was—and soft, her breast crushed against his chest. As he carried her over the threshold into their new home, he was reluctant to let her go. In fact, he wanted to carry her up the stairs to his room and lay her down on his bed.
Bea felt all trembly when Edward set her down on her feet—a reaction to the unexpected feel of being in his arms again.
The warmth radiated from his skin through his pale grey tailcoat and she wanted to savour the feel of his solid muscles pressed against her.
It took all her resolve not to lower her head to his neck and breathe in the delicious male scent of him.
To beg him to truly love and cherish her as he had stated in the church. But that was foolish.
‘Welcome to Longwood Hall,’ he said. ‘Shall I give you the tour?’
‘I’d like that,’ she said, trying to get her breathing in check. She hoped learning more about the home where he’d been brought up would give her more insights into the man she had just tied herself to. The man who was making her feel nervous and excited—even hopeful—all at once.
She couldn’t believe she was married. Growing up, she had always hoped that she would one day marry for love, but those dreams had long been shattered.
She knew she was fortunate she had married the only man she had ever been attracted to.
Yet, was there anything worse than feeling as if you’d forced a man to be with you?
For him this wasn’t anything but duty—and she must not forget it.
Walking up the aisle and seeing Edward standing at the altar, she’d had to pinch herself this was really happening.
That he had been true to his word. And while she was still tortured by the idea he was ruining his happiness due to the obligation he felt towards her and Thomas, she respected him for following through on his promise.
He was a better man than most. A far better man than her father.