Chapter Seven
Bea felt like an imposter on the fringes of the drawing room—out of place, as Edward held Thomas in his arms and showed off their son to his acquaintances, who all huddled round him.
Had she felt like an outsider since the moment she’d arrived at Longwood, or just now, as she hovered in the doorway, staring at the scene before her?
Seeing Edward, standing by the window, staring down tenderly at their child, his raw masculinity set against the innocence of their boy took her breath away.
Was it possible he was looking even more handsome?
Or was it the way he was acting towards her son that was drawing her to him, making her notice him even more than before?
He had made a huge effort with Thomas so far, buying him toys, painting his room, even feeding him this morning, revealing he cared and igniting her admiration.
She was overjoyed the two of them had bonded.
If only the same could be said for the two of them, yet she was to blame.
Had she imagined it, or had he been quieter—more reserved, more restrained with her—this morning as they had broken their fast?
Perhaps he was concerned about the impending visit by his friends and how she would come across, wondering if she would humiliate him.
She knew he feared judgement—he loathed the fact they might be gossiped about.
Or maybe he was just angry with her for denying him his rights over her last night.
Had she opened up a chasm between them, for refusing him on their wedding night?
It was a despicable, dishonourable thing to have done and she felt ashamed.
Perhaps that was why she wanted to shrink away right now; to disappear and hide.
She had lied to him, saying she didn’t want him, hurting him, but she had also lied to herself.
Because of course she desired him. She always had.
But she had to protect her heart, didn’t she?
She would not allow herself to be persuaded, seduced by Edward again.
Yet she had been second-guessing her choices since the moment she had turned him away, her body warring with her head.
She had tossed and turned, half expecting him to come to her all night, half wanting him to.
Lying in her new bed, she had considered throwing off the covers and padding down the corridor in search of him, to appeal to his better nature and ask if they could start again.
It would not have been a hardship to allow him to kiss her.
Hell, the moment he had cupped her jaw, she had gone up in flames.
She had wanted more of his gentle touch, hoped that he might caress away her worries.
But she realised she didn’t know which room was his and that was probably for the best. Besides, her pride would never have allowed her to do it.
Nothing had changed. She couldn’t sleep with him knowing there was nothing between them.
And yet, was that still true? Because he had apologised for calling her a mistake.
He had explained why he had left her. He had even called their night together incredible.
Unforgettable. And he said he now intended to make amends for leaving her, for hurting her.
He’d admitted he wanted to rebuild her trust—and it was all she’d wanted to hear.
Could she allow herself to forgive him? He had married her to protect her and Thomas, after all.
Her eyes raked over his dark head of hair, gleaming in the sunshine, his broad shoulders and strong arms, and she felt envious of the way he was cradling their child so lovingly.
He was showing Thomas off to his friends as if he was proud, and she was pleased—she just wished he felt the same way about her.
Instead, she was floundering on the sidelines, sick with nerves, unsure how to step over the precipice and make herself seen, unsure she wanted to be.
Finally, Edward looked up and his eyes met hers.
He moved towards her, instantly, and her breath hitched.
He knew how to behave—he’d had years of training, unlike her—and they both understood what was at stake here.
His manner would set the tone for future relations between her and his acquaintances.
When he reached her, he turned to his guests. ‘Allow me to introduce Lady Edward Harrington, Thomas’s mother,’ he said.
Not his wife? Perhaps he didn’t think she deserved to be called that, as she hadn’t behaved as such last night. She hadn’t honoured and obeyed him, worshipped him, as she had vowed to. By denying him, had she lost any chance of his affection?
She wanted to believe it when he’d said he was sorry.
But it was hard to let down the carefully constructed walls she’d built up around her heart.
His desire had only been temporary before.
Once satisfied, he had abandoned her and she couldn’t let him do that to her again.
The consequences would be even worse now they were married.
A poised hush hung over them. His friends stared, as if curious, slightly uncomfortable, coming closer. They were obviously fascinated to meet the woman who had turned their friend, the eternal bachelor, into a married man—and so suddenly.
‘Beatrice, may I present my good friends Mr and Mrs Morland, Mr Webb, Mr Thorpe and Mrs Thorpe. I met these gentlemen at Oxford. We now attend a literary salon together once a month.’
Edward was being polite, so formal—was that his social armour as he tried to manage their first impressions of his bride?
She offered a strained, overbright smile. ‘I am delighted to meet you.’
‘Pray tell, have you and Edward been long acquainted with each other?’ Mrs Thorpe asked carefully.
Bea glanced up at her husband, unsure what to say. They probably thought her terribly awkward as she hesitated, stumbling over her words. But she knew she couldn’t be too careful.
‘We have known each other for some while now. I apologise for not introducing you sooner,’ Edward said, coming to her rescue.
She sent him a shy smile, grateful. But he hadn’t told them about Thomas, or about her, before now, as he hadn’t known about his son either. She imagined the rumours were rife, though, about their speedy union. About where Bea had come from.
The inquisition was far from over. That was just the beginning. She had known they wouldn’t immediately accept her—that she would have to prove herself first.
‘Where is your family from?’
‘Are you acquainted with Lady Farringdon?’
‘Do you hunt?’
Bea saw through their subtle questions—each one, though delivered with a kind smile, was a probe to determine which rung on the social ladder they could place her on.
She tried to navigate the examination as eloquently as she could, taking her time, keeping her answers vague, saying her family were originally from Battersea, but that her parents were no longer around.
And no, she had not yet had the pleasure of meeting Lady Farringdon.
And as for hunting—there was just not the opportunity for such pursuits in the town.
Did they assume she was one of them, or had they guessed otherwise?
Yes, her new married name demanded they treat her respectfully, but they must have their suspicions.
There would have been whispers ahead of their visit here today—after all, the obvious reason for why she and Edward had wed so urgently and discretely was staring up at them from his arms.
She sensed that they were unsure about her.
Had they worked out that the only reason Bea was in Edward’s life, sitting in this room right now, was because she had fallen pregnant after they had spent one scandalous night together?
Her gut twisted when she realised they must think she had trapped him. Did he feel the same?
She was relieved when the tea was poured and Edward’s guests were all distracted by the decadent chocolate cake Mrs Potter served.
Edward came to sit beside her on the Chesterfield as he and his friends fell into easy conversation.
They seemed agreeable and she didn’t know why she was so surprised—if they were friends of Edward’s, of course they would be.
They were a reflection of him. Yet she couldn’t fully concentrate on the many topics that were covered in quick succession, especially as she was excruciatingly aware of her husband’s thigh almost pressing against hers, the familiar male scent of him wrapping around her.
She was pleased they were putting on a united front; it meant a lot—that he hadn’t left her to fend for herself.
And turning to look at him, listening to him speak, and laugh, all while cradling his son, she was beginning to think he was nothing like her father.
Edward passed Thomas around and the women fussed over him, until he finally fell asleep on Bea and Martha came to fetch him, to take him up to the nursery.
Bea looked longingly after the two of them, wondering if anyone would notice if she took her leave.
She liked Edward’s friends well enough, but she couldn’t help but feel the longer she sat there, the more chance there was of her saying the wrong thing, revealing her inferiority and humiliating Edward.
It was only a matter of time until she said something that would reveal her true self.
She went to stand but Edward gripped her wrist, holding her fast.
‘Where are you going?’ he said. He stroked a thumb over her wrist, to soften the gesture, perhaps in case anyone was watching.
‘I thought I would see if Martha needed me.’
He shook his head. ‘Not now. Your presence is required here.’ He lowered his voice. ‘I need you here.’
Did he? She lowered herself back into the seat and he loosened his grip. He brought their hands down to rest between them on the seat, but he didn’t release her, and she was strangely glad of the connection.