Chapter Eight #2
His lips twisted at her jest. How was it that she always knew the right thing to say to him to make him feel better, to redefine his perspective?
He loved how she was able to laugh at herself.
So many people struggled to do so. It made him feel as if he didn’t have to take himself so seriously.
That was what had won him over that night at the inn, what had made him relax, so he could be himself around her.
It was how she had won over his friends this morning too.
‘Love should never be conditional. It says more about your father that he withheld his love than you. As Thomas grows up, will you only care for him if he makes decisions you approve of?’
His eyes narrowed on her, considering her words, before he shook his head. ‘No.’
‘Exactly. It says more about his own failings as a father than yours as a son.’
He swallowed. His father’s failings…he had always tried to overlook them. But he knew the man had made mistakes—caused scandals of his own. William and Edward had suffered greatly because of them.
‘Like I told you before, life shouldn’t be about meeting his needs, but your own.
I have failed in my mother’s eyes hundreds of times, but I realise now I wouldn’t change my choices.
They were mine to make. They have led me here, to this moment right now, being here with you and Thomas.
I know it’s hard, but you need to give yourself permission to let go of that need for his approval.
Over time, perhaps then you can accept that you are enough as you are; that you only need to meet your own expectations. ’
He stared down at where she held her hand in his, and he realised she had always understood him, better than anyone. He cared about her opinion. He liked her outlook on life. He pulled her to him, bringing her up against his body. ‘How did you get so wise?’ he said.
‘Wise?’ She thought about that for a moment. ‘Certainly not at Oxford like you! I guess you have to think harder when you have no home or fortune to rely on,’ she said wryly, and he laughed.
He shook his head. How did she do that—how did she make him feel better and forget the grief that was already hurtling through him?
‘I mean it. I like hearing your thoughts. How genuine you are. Whatever Miss Linton has to say on the matter, I do not wish to change that about you.’ He rested his forehead against hers.
He didn’t want her sympathy, or to talk any more. He just wanted her. To forget everything else. But the hour was late. They had a ball to get to. He could not ruin her gown, her lovely hair, no matter how tempting it was.
‘I have something for you,’ he said.
Her eyes widened. ‘Now?’
He grinned. ‘Not like that.’
He released her for a moment, stalking over to his chest of drawers. He opened the top one and pulled out a box. He came back towards her, taking her hand and pulling her in front of the mirror.
He opened the box and she gasped when she saw the contents—inside was a beautiful diamond necklace.
‘Are they…?’
‘Yes. It was my mother’s. I would like you to wear it tonight.’
‘Edward, are you sure you still want to go, what with your father being so ill?’
‘My father is insisting we keep his illness quiet, to protect his social standing,’ he said, rolling his eyes.
‘No one knows about his condition, and that is the way he wants to keep it. So yes, we will go. But you have nothing to be afraid of, about tonight, Bea. You were a success this morning with my friends, and you will be a triumph this evening too. Believe it. I do.’
He came to stand behind her and his fingers draped the necklace around her throat. He deftly fastened the clasp. His palms swept over her shoulders, and he didn’t fail to notice his touch caused her to shiver, her skin erupting in goose bumps.
‘It’s exquisite. But Edward, I can’t wear this. I might damage it.’
‘You look stunning,’ he said, his eyes raking over her in quiet intensity. ‘And you must, for now you look the part.’
She bit her lip. ‘I feel like Cendrillon going to the ball, but at midnight, this gown, the necklace, everything will disappear, and you will be left with just me…’
He leaned in, to whisper in her ear. ‘Just you, naked in my arms… Now, that is something worth waiting for.’
Bea took a steadying breath as they walked through the door to the ballroom of Lady Harroway’s Mayfair mansion.
She wasn’t sure what to expect and she felt a knot tighten in her stomach.
It was as if she was a debutante about to make her formal entrance into Society, only she hadn’t had the years of training such women had.
She prayed Thomas would sleep through the night.
It was the first time she’d ever left her son for an evening and concern churned with her jitters inside.
She didn’t like being parted from him, but Edward had insisted they come.
He was certain it would help to put this scandal behind them, but to quell the whispers meant Bea would have to win over all the people of the ton who liked to gossip, which was easier said than done.
She was well aware she would be judged on how she looked, walked, talked, danced—everything.
She would be noticed by everyone. Even those she never wished to meet again. Those she wanted to hide from. She looked around at the sea of faces, hoping she would not find the man’s face who she was thinking of in the crowd as sickness swirled in her stomach.
‘Are you looking for someone?’ Edward asked.
‘No,’ she lied. ‘Just taking it all in.’
She could feel the tension radiating off Edward, his posture rigid, his conversation stilted.
He had put such importance on the event, as if it was the key to their union being accepted, so there was no way she could tell him she was terrified of seeing someone—a man who could reveal incriminating moments from her past. Edward would never forgive her if he learned she’d kept another secret from him.
It had the potential to threaten the very foundations of their marriage.
Perhaps the man wasn’t here. Lord Wintour.
There was no reason why he would be. Besides, she had the rest of the ton to worry about too.
What if other people guessed where she was from—that she didn’t belong here?
She feared being discovered, as if it was shameful to be true to who she was.
Yet, Edward’s friends had accepted her, hadn’t they?
And he’d even said he thought Miss Linton was wrong—that he didn’t want to silence her.
His words had given her the courage to do this. She must not falter now.
She tried not to stare in awe at the splendour before her.
The ceiling dripped with glittering chandeliers and opulent gilded mirrors lined the walls.
She had to pretend she was unfazed—that she had seen the interior of such a ballroom before, when in actual fact, she had never seen anything so splendid.
Artwork and sculptures decorated every surface, and she wished she could stop and study each and every one.
There were long tables full of meats and fruits, and beautiful young women in decadent gowns of feathers and silk, their necks encased in pearls, looking hopeful that they might be asked to dance.
Men stood on the sidelines in their finery, trying to decide who to choose as their partners for the night, as music from the band rang out, and the chitter-chatter of conversations clamoured in her ears.
So this was the beating heart of the ton. Never in a million years had she ever imagined herself here. It was as though she had stepped into a whole new world.
There was a scandalous hush as Edward led her through the throng of people, who all stepped aside to let them through, their eyebrows raised sky-high. Whispers uttered behind fans spread around the room like wildfire. All eyes were on Lord Harrington’s new wife.
‘Stay close to me,’ Edward commanded.
She wanted to grip his hand to steady her, but Miss Linton had said they must not touch apart from when they danced.
Strict, rehearsed etiquette kept her in line, which was perhaps a good thing, as she was still on fire from his intimate touch earlier.
They had been interrupted when Edward’s father had fallen, and they still hadn’t consummated their marriage, but his suggestion as to what would happen later, when they returned to Longwood, only added to her tension.
She was as nervous—and excited—about lying with him again as the first time.
The diamonds he had placed round her neck were dazzling.
She was overjoyed he would want her to wear something of his mother’s, that he trusted her and thought her worthy of wearing it.
Why the woman would not take such an exquisite piece with her, wherever she’d gone, she couldn’t fathom.
But right now, she brought her hand up to cover the jewels, a family heirloom, a symbol of her future title, and she felt the weight of responsibility round her throat as if they were choking her.
Perhaps because Edward had been right—she was playing a part. She didn’t belong here, did she?
The Duke’s words suddenly came back to her with force: She will never pass for a future duchess.
And her heart slammed in her chest. She was desperate to prove him wrong.
She didn’t want to let Edward down. Yet, she didn’t want to just pass for anything.
She wasn’t sure she wanted to pretend, especially with Edward.
She was starting to think she wanted their marriage to be real.