Chapter 25
Beatrice never would have thought that she could be so content.
She had known happiness, many times, but it was always fleeting. Whether it was a laugh between her friends, or those few occasions where she had thought she looked presentable, or when she was proud of something she had made, it faded.
But it was different when she was with Owen.
Instead of her life being difficult with some moments of joy, there was a constant feeling of happiness inside of her, interspersed with fear and confusion instead of it being how she felt most of the time.
It was the best way to live, she decided, and as they danced together she knew that she had made the right decision.
When the music came to an end, she curtseyed and he bowed, and they returned to the edge of the dance floor. A small circle of people had gathered to watch them, and when they returned, they each came to speak to them.
“You looked gorgeous together,” one sighed wistfully. “Congratulations.”
“Such a beautiful couple,” an older lady agreed. “It is such a lovely thing to see.”
“Thank you,” Beatrice beamed. “My husband and I are most grateful.”
“And will you be hosting soon?”
“We plan to, once things are settled. I am still adapting to my new role, after all.”
“Yes,” a voice came, “and what a surprise that was.”
They all turned to see Lady Pembroke, standing with her glass in hand and a smile on her face. She joined the circle, and those around them quietened. In an instant, the comfort she had felt disappeared, and all that was needed was her host to reappear with a sharper tone.
“A talented dancer,” Lady Pembroke continued. “That tends to be how a lady finds a husband, but you did not do that. I had assumed it was because you did not know how to dance, but given that you so clearly can, it would seem that you ruined that wedding for the thrill of it!”
Beatrice laughed along nervously, and the others joined in. Frankly, she did not feel any shame about what she had done anymore. Everything had ended in the best way for all involved, and one snide remark was not enough to change that.
“There was nothing keeping the two of us apart,” she agreed. “I could not help myself, I suppose, but it has all gone well for us.”
“And what of that poor girl? I heard that she had to leave London.”
“She has chosen to, so that she can find true love instead. Truly, it was best for all of us.”
“And that is so easy to say as the one who married the Duke,” she smirked, taking a sip of her drink.
It was not a friendly barb, but a challenge, and though Beatrice did not know what had changed, she was not going to allow it to continue. She would not be guilted into feeling shame for something she had done as an act of kindness.
“It was perhaps misguided,” she confessed, “but Lady Helena is grateful for it too. The truth is, none of us liked what was happening, and so I had to change it.”
“It may not seem it,” Owen agreed, “but my wife is very strong willed, and her politeness does not mean that she does not know how to handle matters.”
He had said it firmly as his eyes settled on Lady Pembroke. It was a warning, and Beatrice hoped that she would heed it for she was enjoying her night and did not want it to be ruined.
“She certainly enjoys the attention that it brings, too,” she replied. “All of these ladies in silver and blue, myself included, and yet a select few decided that they needed to be looked at even more. Tell me, Your Grace, what made you choose something like that?”
She pointed at the gown with the hand holding her glass, and Beatrice wondered just what was in the glass and how many she had had.
“I thought of trees,” she said simply. “There is a forest on the estate, and the trees there are so beautiful. They are dense and dark and emerald green, and I can only imagine how they shall look in winter when they are covered in snow. And so, I wished to have my gown look like that.”
“Oh, and the lace is the snow!” another lady squeaked. “Truly, it is a marvel.”
“And it would have been perfect had the ball been your own,” Lady Pembroke continued. “But it is not a good thing to upstage the host. Perhaps, had you cared for etiquette, you might have known that. Then again, you have a penchant for taking things which are not yours.”
Owen bristled beside her, and at last he stepped forward, brushing her side.
“How strange, Lady Pembroke,” he said in a calm voice that made everyone silent in an instant. “For one that enjoys etiquette so much, you might think that you would know how to conduct yourself around others.”
“It is not my fault that your wife has behaved so brazenly. Someone must hold her accountable.”
“And why, pray tell, should that person be you? If I recall correctly, your marriage to your own husband was born of scandal, something far worse than my wife has ever done.”
Lady Pembroke turned scarlet, and Beatrice wondered just what Owen knew that he had not told her.
“Your Grace, that is most inappropriate.”
“And yet, you think it is wise to do the same to a duchess. Why is that, I wonder? It will do you well to remember that only those without fault may judge others, lest you too be judged.”
Lady Pembroke tightened her grip on her glass, her perfect smile faltering.
“I am more than capable of making my own judgments, thank you,” she replied. “I would expect you to make such judgments before choosing a wife, but of course we only know the truth about her because she is your wife, and therefore with a title.”
The comment about her parentage stung, but Owen remained unfazed.
“And do you know who else has such titles?” he asked. “The Dukes of Lupton, Urkinshire, and Pridefield. Their wives are good friends of mine, and I have it on good authority that they plan to host events soon. Should you want me to tell them how you have spoken to my wife, I will gladly do so.”
With a scowl, Lady Pembroke took her leave. Beatrice could hardly breathe, let alone speak, but the others around her were more than eager to do it for her.
“Now that I think of it,” one lady said in thought, “how exactly did they meet?”
“They were found alone in a library together at a ball,” another replied. “I remember the scandal now! It was so long ago that she must have thought it was forgotten.”
“Except it was not,” Owen agreed. “I know more than one might expect, and I will never let someone like her speak out of turn to my wife.”
“Of course not, Your Grace.”
Owen left the ladies, and at once they all practically swooned at how he had been. Beatrice had been grateful, but she wished she had been able to handle it herself without needing her husband. She wanted to be strong like him.
“He is a wonderful husband,” one lady sighed. “If only mine defended me like that.”
“He must so adore you. It is just as you said. The two of you loved one another far too much for you to allow him to marry someone else.”
Beatrice smiled and nodded in agreement, but in truth she did not know why Owen had defended her so vehemently. It was not out of love or adoration, for he did not love or adore her, but it was the perfect way to prove a point to the others.
Perhaps that was why he had done it?
She looked around the room for him and saw him speaking with Lord Pembroke. They both had a solemn expression, and Beatrice could not bear to think what they were saying. She did not need it all to go too far; Lady Pembroke had been taught a lesson, and that was all that needed to be done.
The music for the next dance began, and when Owen returned to them Beatrice wondered if that was because he wished to dance with her again. Instead, when she took his arm, he bent down to whisper in her ear.
“We are going to the gardens for a moment,” he said.
She did not argue, following him outside. Once there, Beatrice relished the cold air against her warm face. It had all been far more intense than she had anticipated, and it was not what she had wanted at all.
“I assume you have told Lord Pembroke what happened?” she asked.
“Indeed, and he has extended his apology, which of course we have accepted.”
“Well yes, for it is not his fault at all. He was very kind to me, though his wife seemed unhappy with my presence from the start.”
“It is her jealousy. Her husband confirmed it.”
The words echoed in her mind. Never in her life had she ever assumed that anyone had been jealous of her. She was not the sort of lady that others wished to be. When she looked at Owen, however, she knew that he was serious.
“Come now, do not flatter me.”
“I do not say it to flatter you. After we greeted them, she told him to find a reason to have us escorted out, for you had made her look plain in comparison. That was why she accused you of trying to upstage her.”
She had not considered that when designing the gown, of course.
All that she had wanted to do was look her best and align more closely with what her title would make people expect of her.
For once, she wanted to feel beautiful, and she had only wanted that for herself, not to make anyone else feel inferior.
“I ought to apologize,” she said quietly. “I understand why she might have thought that.”
“You will do no such thing. I will not have my wife cowering because there is a lady that is too insecure in herself to appreciate her efforts.”
“But Owen–”
“Should anyone wish to question the dignity of the Duchess of Pantheris, they may come to me. I will not have my wife spoken to in such a disgusting manner, Beatrice. It will never happen to you again.”
“I am not a child. I can handle an unkind suggestion.”
“Perhaps you can, but I cannot. It is my instinct to protect that which is mine.”
They returned to the ballroom, and the night continued as normal, but his words remained with her. He said that she was his, and though that was expected given that they were married, there was a conviction in his words. He had meant it personally. She was his, and he intended to make that known.
Once, she might have hated to hear as much. She did not want to be owned or claimed by a man, but it was different when it was him. It had been her first time seeing a more possessive side of him, and she wanted to see more of it in spite of herself.
“I do hope that Lady Pembroke has not caused you terrible offence,” Lord Pembroke said when he saw her. “I cannot quite fathom why she thought it was a good idea, and I am pleased that your husband spoke to her in the way that he did.”
“Even though he spoke ill of you too?”
“Frankly, it was so long ago that the scandal has died down. Besides, as the man in the situation it was never going to affect me regardless. It was the perfect way to remind my wife, however, that she has made mistakes of her own. She was the one to trick me into meeting her in that library, after all.”
Beatrice chuckled, taking a nervous sip of her drink.
It was clear that their marriage came with issues, and though others might have wanted to know every last detail, Beatrice was not that sort of lady.
She only wanted peace, and she wished that none of it had happened so that she could have maintained it.
And yet, there was no denying that she wished to see her husband protect her again. It had thrilled her in a way that nothing else ever had, and if she had to have someone else make slights against her in order for it to happen, she wagered that it would almost be worth it.
When the ball came to an end, Beatrice decided that it would be best to bid Lady Pembroke goodnight.
It was not what the lady might have wanted, but if etiquette truly was important to her, then it was what she would do.
She made her way to Lord Pembroke, but his wife was not with him.
She tightened her grip on Owen’s arm, who asked what she was trying to do.
“Oh, Lady Pembroke left an hour ago. She wished to sleep.”
“Is that commonplace for a host?” she asked.
“I do not believe so, which makes you wonder just how important etiquette is to her.”
Beatrice giggled, but then her empathy caught up to her.
She pondered the extent of the lady's loneliness, considering that even after marrying the man she desired, she ended up trapped in an unhappy marriage with no friends around her.
It was her own doing, yes, but it could just as easily have happened to Beatrice had it not also been what Lady Helena had wanted, and Owen not been a good man.
“I would like to invite them to dinner,” she suggested, “or at least a tea. I do not wish to make any enemies, not even ones like Lady Pembroke.”
“She will never be an ally,” he warned.
“In any case, I do not want her to spend her life furious with me for ruining her party. I can see that she put a lot of effort into it.”
At last, he faltered.
“Very well,” he agreed. “I shall arrange it with Lord Pembroke. Come, let us go to bed.”
The carriage ride home was quiet, but pleasant. Beatrice, after all the excitement, had grown very tired very suddenly. As she leaned against his arm, she felt herself falling asleep.
When they arrived at the estate, she kept her eyes closed, waiting for him to awaken her and help her out of the carriage.
Instead, she felt him lift her into his arms and carry her inside.
Not wanting to reveal that she was awake, even if only just, she remained still, and when at last she felt herself placed on a bed, she noticed that it was not hers.
She opened her eyes, only to see that she was in her husband’s room.
“I thought you might like to join me tonight,” he suggested.
And oh, how she did.