Chapter Eleven #3
He was grappling with the loss of his father—but also Bea.
Had he lost her? His heart lurched every time he remembered the angry words they had hurled at each other, culminating in her telling him she was leaving.
It hurt so bad. He had been fearful of the heightened emotion between them; it had reminded him of his parents’ relationship and he’d had to get away.
He hated himself for behaving that way. He had wanted to shout and throw things.
He had wanted to run. He wanted to curl up into a ball and cry.
She had wounded his pride but also his heart. Yet it was his own fault he was feeling this way. He’d vowed never to put himself in this position. Never to marry—and especially never to fall in love.
He had allowed her to burst back into his life and he’d been helpless against the joy and desire she’d stirred up inside of him. She lit up every room. She lit up his heart. Every waking moment.
Last night, when he’d seen Lord Wintour slam into Bea, he had seen the emotions pass over her face—shock, fear, disgust. He hadn’t known what it had meant, but he’d been at her side in an instant.
He could not comprehend why she didn’t want to dance with the man, only that when her eyes beseeched him, pleading for his help, he had known he had to get her out of there.
And then the abhorrent words meant to destroy her—destroy them both—had reverberated across the room.
‘Do you think Lord Harrington is aware he has married a Covent Garden whore?’
Shock had tripped through him. Uncertainty—not knowing what it meant. For a split second he had wondered if it was true, the words Bea had spoken that first day in the coach coming back to him. ‘A mother would do anything for her child. Anything.’
Had she…?
No, he didn’t believe it. Not for one moment. He knew he had been the only man she’d allowed inside her body.
Everything she’d suffered had been because of him. He’d taken her virtue and abandoned her, leaving her vulnerable—leaving her little choice to do whatever she had to do to survive. He knew she would do anything for her boy, but he didn’t think she had done that.
But she had lied to him, of that much he was certain—she had kept something from him she didn’t want to share.
Bea knew Lord Wintour—Edward just didn’t know how.
And last night, he’d been too proud to hear it, fearful of what she might reveal.
He had the feeling whatever their connection was, it wasn’t good, otherwise she would have told him about it.
She was right; he had kept his past a secret because of shame—might she have hidden hers for the same reason?
The Viscount had spoken out about her, casting her reputation into doubt and now they would face a whole new scandal. He clenched his fists.
Edward had known his reaction was crucial.
Everyone would look to him to see if he stood by her.
To see if it was true…and he had ushered her out of the room so fast, wanting to get away from the scrutiny.
The disgrace. He had been so livid he couldn’t bring himself to be near her, to speak to her.
He knew he had hurt her in shutting her down, not letting her confide in him.
Anger and disgust churned in his stomach. He was so livid with Lord Wintour he wanted to get on his horse and go over to Ashenden Hall and challenge the man to a duel for dishonouring his wife. How dare he slander Bea’s name like that?
The ton would now think the man’s words were true. And yet surely they would wonder how Lord Wintour knew such a thing? Had the man inadvertently jeopardised his own reputation by his foolish outburst?
He thought back to his father and the things that had been important to him as he’d taken his last breaths.
Love. Family. That was all.
Did he love Bea?
Did she love him? If so, why had she started packing her bags? How could she? When she had said she was leaving the pain was worse than he could ever have imagined.
But he had seen her own tears, knew she was hurting too. She feared being abandoned just as much as he did. Had he forsaken her first by not sticking up for her, for not hearing her out?
What if she loved him, but felt she had to leave to protect him and Thomas from yet another scandal?
What if her feelings were buried beneath her guilt of what had happened last night?
He needed to speak to her, to find out what had happened in her past, talk about it and resolve it, so that they had a chance at a future. Together. Was it possible?
He was starting to think his father was right—he was worthy of love.
And so was Bea. He wanted Bea to love him and he wanted the chance to love her back, if she would let him.
He had to stop letting his fears get in the way.
Because loving her was worth the danger of any scandal.
He’d risk everything to have her back in his arms.
Edward stood. He knew now what he must do. He kissed his father on the forehead, saying his goodbyes. The man’s counsel lingered, and for once, now he was gone, Edward was going to follow his father’s advice.