Chapter Nine #2
He put his head round his father’s chamber, but the man was asleep, breathing heavily.
He wondered how long they had—and what it would be like without him here.
He couldn’t comprehend it. His father was as much a part of this place as the stone used to build it.
The very foundations. He was the framework by which his family had lived their lives.
Edward tried to shrug off his melancholy as he returned to find Bea. He led her down the corridor to the kitchen and pushed open the door, ushering her inside.
Looking at his face, she let out a soft laugh. ‘I bet you’ve never been down here before, have you?’
‘Once, when I was a boy. When William was chasing me and I needed somewhere to hide. It was fun, but my father gave me such a scolding I have never done it again since.’
It felt a little rebellious to do so now. The kitchen was dark and empty, yet he knew if he had called for service, it would have erupted into life. But Bea was right, why should he wake someone just to serve them when they could do this for themselves? He wasn’t completely incapable.
‘Did you get to play when you were a child?’ he asked her.
‘Yes, don’t worry. It wasn’t all bad. I too used to play hide-and-seek, out on the street with other children. We’d roll hoops or chase the boys.’
He studied her thoughtfully. ‘What’s the most fun you have ever had?’
‘I had so many good times with my mother growing up. On walks, on adventures. That night with you was pretty fun too.’
He smiled. ‘It was.’
Edward watched as Bea began opening cupboards, raising herself up onto tiptoes to see what she could find.
She pulled out some bread and a plate of cheeses and held them up.
He nodded as she grabbed two plates. He picked up some grapes and pickles, tucking them under his arm, and swiped a bottle of red wine from the rack. ‘Ready?’ he asked.
Back in the dining room he stoked the dying cinders of the fire, bringing them back to life, while she laid out their picnic on the plates. He uncorked the wine with his teeth. ‘I forgot glasses.’
‘Do we need them?’ She took the bottle from his hand and raised the top of the neck to her lips. She took a swig, keeping her eyes on him, as he imagined the velvety liquid trickle down her throat.
He swallowed. Did she mean to shock him? The air was thick with anticipation, and his body tightened in hope. ‘Though she resides at Longwood, her manners remain somewhat provincial,’ Edward said with a grin.
She smiled, as if she was relieved she hadn’t offended him.
‘Do you prefer red wine or white?’
‘Red.’
‘Same.’ He was glad he had grabbed the right bottle.
He thought that she was the only person in the world he had ever been his true self around.
Bea and perhaps William. He didn’t have to pretend with her, because she hadn’t been restricted by the rigid expectations placed on her her whole life.
With Bea he felt he could push back, rejecting the trappings of aristocratic life. It was grounding.
He wanted to be that person for her too. Someone she could rely on and trust, wholeheartedly.
He loved that they were here, sitting on the floor in front of each other, swigging wine straight from the bottle, picking at food with their fingers—in contrast to the stuffy room and the etiquette that usually ruled him.
He was glad to be away from that crowded ballroom and all the people of the ton.
Yet he was aware he had enforced strict guidelines upon Bea this week and she had stepped up to the task.
She hadn’t grumbled, determined to give their son a better life.
She hadn’t let him down. But while he was impressed, he knew now he didn’t want her to change her personality for him. He liked her just as she was.
It was strange, he had always determined never to get close to anyone, never to marry, and yet he couldn’t help wanting to learn more about her—her childhood, her likes and dislikes.
‘Tell me, where did you and your mother go on these adventures of yours?’
‘We’d often go down to the riverbank and walk, watching the boats sail past, wondering where they were headed. We’d scavenge for treasure, or she’d take me to fairs or markets, when she could. I loved watching the street performers or artists—I’d be amazed by their talents.’
He nodded, taking it all in. ‘Do you have any hidden talents, apart from your sketching, that is?’
‘You haven’t yet seen those—you don’t know if it’s a talent,’ she countered.
Then she shrugged. ‘I can tell stories. I might not be able to read, but I can still weave a tale to Thomas at night. My favourite adventures with my mother were the ones she’d describe to me when she’d tuck me up into bed.
’ She took another sip of the wine. ‘You are very talented at playing the piano.’
‘Thanks to my mother. Are you a summer or winter person?’
She thought about it. ‘Summer.’ She shuddered. ‘I hate being cold. Though I do like being outdoors.’
‘Me too.’
‘Favourite colour?’ he asked.
‘Blue,’ she said definitely. ‘Like the colour of Thomas’s room.’ She inclined her head. ‘The colour of your eyes.’
His heart soared. They had so many things in common. Far more than he had first thought.
He wanted to know everything about her, but mainly, if she could enjoy this life, here, with him.
‘Did you have fun at the ball?’ he asked. ‘Despite the comments you received.’
‘How could I not? The grandeur, the music, the dresses—not to mention the food. The punch was delicious. And yet if you said we never had to go to another, I wouldn’t be sorry.’
‘I feel the same.’
‘You? I thought you liked those gatherings. All the attention,’ she teased.
‘The attention?’
‘I saw all the women looking at you. The men wanting to be you.’ Her eyes raked over him. ‘You are a very handsome man, Edward.’
Surprised and pleased by her compliment, his body hardened in response. ‘You are wrong. Everyone always wanted to be William, not me. If you had met him…’
‘I wouldn’t have been interested. I don’t think you realise how special you are.’
He felt a little off-kilter as he watched her turn away to look into the flickering fire, the flames reflected in her beautiful eyes. Special? He didn’t think anyone had ever called him that before.
God, but she was stunning. She drew another long sip from the bottle before passing it to him, and he did the same.
‘I was proud of you tonight, Bea,’ he said, wanting to praise her in return.
‘Me?’ Her cheeks flushed. ‘Heavens, I don’t think anyone has ever been proud of me before,’ she said, waving her hand as if to make light of his compliment. But he wanted her to hear it. To believe it. He felt he had torn down her confidence one too many times. He wanted to restore it.
‘I realised tonight I have been wrong. Clothes and lessons will not make you a duchess, they only help to draw the eye to what has always been there. Your quiet grace and dignity, your bravery and wisdom. You are utterly unique, Bea. I do not want that to change.’
She held his gaze, her breath. ‘I saw you speaking with Miss Deverell,’ she blurted.
She hadn’t asked a question, but he could tell her words were loaded and he wanted to ease her concerns.
‘I did not want there to be any ill feelings between us. I wanted to do the right thing and speak with her.’
‘That was admirable of you. What is she like?’
‘She is pleasant. Refined.’ His lips twisted. ‘But not my type.’ His eyes narrowed on her. ‘Could it be that my wife is jealous?’
‘A little.’
‘I assure you, you have no need.’
He watched her throat work.
‘I think she was as relieved as I that our union did not come about.’ He put the bottle down.
‘She admitted it was William she had set her heart on marrying, not me. When he died, my father wanted to uphold the promise my brother had made to her—through me. Only, of course, I could not live up to my brother in her eyes.’
Bea sat up a little straighter. ‘Edward, you do not have to be exactly like your brother. You should find your own path and know there’s no less value in that just because it’s not what William would have done.
I know I never got to meet him, and I’m sure William was as wonderful as you say, but so are you.
You just weren’t shown it or told it enough.
Maybe that should change from now on,’ she said, reaching out to take his hand in hers.
‘Are you going to show me? I like the sound of that.’ He brought her fingers up to his mouth and kissed them. ‘I had no idea my brother had a woman in his life. We really do all have our secrets, don’t we?’
She lowered her gaze to the demolished picnic, tugging herself out of his grasp. ‘I can’t believe we ate it all.’
He grinned. ‘How do you feel about dessert?’
She rose languidly to her feet. ‘I can go.’
But he reached out to grip her hand, all at once coming up on his knees to halt her departure. ‘You never need to wait on me, Bea.’ His gaze held hers. ‘And I did not mean food.’
She stilled.
He came towards her on his knees and she succumbed, sinking back down onto the rug.
‘I am sorry we were interrupted before,’ he said. ‘But we are alone now, and I want to make this marriage official.’ A swirl of heated intimacy wrapped around them. ‘Do you still want that too?’
‘Yes,’ she breathed.
He could sense her wariness, perhaps nerves getting the better of her, but as he leaned in and pressed his mouth against hers, she melted against him, opening her lips to let him taste her, and his tongue tenderly caressed her.
Her hands came up to hold his head, her fingers roaming into his hair.
It felt incredible to feel her touch again.