Chapter Eight #4
‘You did well,’ he said, as he led her back over to his friends at the drinks table. She could feel the light touch of his hand at her back, searing her through the silk. She was relieved he was pleased with her.
‘Would you mind if I took a turn around the ballroom with your wife?’ Mrs Thorpe said, bringing her out of her reverie.
Edward’s jaw clenched. For a moment Bea thought he was going to say no, and she wouldn’t have minded—she wanted to stay at his side. But instead he gave a sharp shake of his head. ‘Do not be long.’
‘I think your husband does not want to let you out of his sight,’ Mrs Thorpe jested. ‘But it is important I give you all the gossip on the ton.’
They began to glide around the ballroom, as Miss Linton had instructed her—two graceful swans together—and Mrs Thorpe enlightened her as to who people were.
‘There’s the Earl of Harpden and his wife.
Rumour has it she is struggling to get with child.
And that is the Viscount Arbour, known for racking up many, many debts. ’
Bea glanced back over her shoulder to look for Edward. Pleasure rippled through her as she realised he was following her with his dark, protective gaze. When their eyes met across the room, her stomach whooshed.
‘Over there is Lady Bracken. She is just back from an extended visit to the country. We all have our speculations about that. And you must avoid Lord Bridlington and his gambling ways,’ Mrs Thorpe continued.
Bea could tell her new friend was trying to put her at ease, but she wasn’t sure how she would remember all the names—or the various scandals.
She didn’t much care for other people’s secrets—and really, she was just glad Lord Wintour, the man who made her feel nauseated, whom she hoped she would never see again, wasn’t here.
Perhaps everything would be all right after all.
She realised now, the strict standards of Society governed each guest’s move and every word spoken.
All of these people—they all seemed to live in fear of not living up to the ton, even her husband.
It was so clear to her now why Edward had spent the night with her in the inn.
To be around these people all the time, constantly being judged, it must have been a relief to talk to someone like her for a while.
Could that be one of the reasons why he married her?
She hoped so. If he was going to be the one person she had discovered she could rely on, she wanted to be the one person he could be himself around.
They stepped out into the gardens to take some air and she drew in a breath.
It was warm and cloying in the ballroom, and her dance with Edward had heated her blood, making her think about what lay in store for her when they returned to Longwood tonight.
As he had fastened the diamonds around her neck, his eyes had been full of promise, and suddenly, she felt hopeful for their future, for this marriage.
The scent of the beautiful flowers in the perfectly manicured borders drifted up her nose, but as Mrs Thorpe led her down the steps into the garden, they were accosted by three giggling women.
‘Mrs Thorpe, do introduce us,’ they said conspiratorially.
Her new ally prickled and Bea thought she must not care for these women, but as etiquette dictated, Mrs Thorpe still made the introductions politely.
‘Is this your first ball, Lady Edward Harrington? We have not had the pleasure of seeing you in the ton before.’
‘It is my first one in Mayfair, yes,’ she said carefully.
‘We thought the Duke would be a bachelor for ever. Pray tell, however did you catch his interest?’ The thinly veiled insult was delivered with a smile.
‘Why her beauty, of course,’ Mrs Thorpe said, coming to her aide.
‘One does wonder what talents were involved to trap him.’
Bea’s heart trembled.
‘Yes, I hear the work in inns is very strenuous these days,’ the other woman mocked. Bea reared as panic swirled. They knew. How? Her gaze swung between the three of them. They were laughing at her.
‘What very poor company you keep, Mrs Thorpe.’
Bea gritted her teeth.
‘Have you heard what diseases you can catch in inns these days?’
Bea went to protest, but stopped herself, for what could she say?
She had worked in an inn—it was nothing but the truth.
Why should she deny it? If she hadn’t been there that night, she would never have met Edward.
They would never have shared that one perfect evening together or had their son.
She wasn’t ashamed of that. She wouldn’t change it.
As for the rest of their comments, they were just spiteful, hurtful remarks.
Her anger hitched. She decided while Edward might think they needed everyone’s approval, she didn’t much care for the opinions of these three women.
‘Ladies, you are, of course right. I am not used to being in such company, though I must admit, I expected it to be far less cruel,’ she said, standing up for herself.
‘If this is the way those with privilege are taught to behave, all I can say is I am grateful I never grew up having the lessons you did, for you surely had terrible teachers.’
The women gasped, shocked at her cutting retort.
‘I thought the heir to the Duke was meant to have standards. Obviously not,’ one said.
‘How fortunate that is for me then,’ Bea said. ‘Good luck securing your own husbands this evening, ladies. May you be as happy as I am with mine.’ And she walked away, leaving their mouths gaping.
‘I am so sorry, Beatrice. They are awful. Truly,’ Miss Thorpe said, catching up with her, her face ashen.
Bea wasn’t sure that Mrs Thorpe or Edward’s friends knew about her and Edward meeting at the inn—they might have guessed at her circumstances, but now this woman would have a clearer picture. ‘Shall we go back inside?’
Bea nodded, relieved the truth—the fact Mrs Thorpe’s suspicions had been confirmed—didn’t seem to have affected her support.
Her throat was tight with frustration. How dare those women treat her like that? And yet, she was cross with herself, too, for she felt as if she had let herself and Edward down. She should not have spoken out. She should never have let them get to her.
She looked for Edward as soon as they re-entered the room.
She wanted to tell him people knew about her, but he wasn’t where he’d been standing before.
An unsettling feeling assailed her, chilling her skin.
A quadrille was in full swing and her eyes searched for him on the floor, finding him quickly.
He was easy to spot in the crowd, for he was taller than most and far more handsome.
But when she saw him, her heart lurched, for he was dancing with another woman.
A very beautiful woman, who was looking up at him, smiling, engaging him in lively conversation.
The fierce possessiveness that rose up inside her shocked her.
‘Who is that lady my husband is dancing with?’ she asked Mrs Thorpe.
‘Miss Deverell.’
Bea’s chest caved.
‘She made her debut this Season,’ Mrs Thorpe continued. ‘Rumour has it her dowry is thirty thousand pounds. Can you imagine? It is why every man in the room wishes to dance with her, court her. She is extremely elegant, is she not?’
The woman had long dark hair and striking eyes. Angular features. All of Bea’s insecurities rushed to the fore. They looked a perfect pair and it shook her confidence. The scene played havoc with her emotions.
She had thought she and Edward had been getting on well, the promise of tonight hanging in the air.
She had been having a good time, sipping punch with him, talking to him, dancing with him, and that had been more important to her than those women outside attempting to ruin her evening.
She could have put their comments aside, tried to ignore them, but now each one struck a chord.
Did Edward feel as if she’d trapped him as they’d suggested?
Did he think he’d lowered his standards, having married her?
Her hopes from earlier were suddenly dashed.
And yet, he had given up Miss Deverell’s thirty thousand pounds to be with her. He had put his inheritance at risk. Why?
She felt the ground beneath her feet shifting. The chandeliers glittered too brightly, the conversation suddenly seemed too loud and her gown far too tight. She couldn’t breathe.
‘You missed our dance, Lady Edward Harrington,’ a voice from behind her said.
Mr Webb! She gasped. She had forgotten. She hoped she hadn’t offended him; it was quite the blunder. ‘Is now too late?’ she asked him. ‘I am sure we can make up for our tardiness with our enthusiasm.’
He grinned, and she allowed the man to lead her onto the floor as they joined in the dance, and yet her heart was not in it.
She could not muster up much enthusiasm.
She looked at the clock. Was it midnight yet?
Because she wanted all of this facade to disappear.
She just wanted to go back to being herself.