Chapter Five
Idon’t trust the viscount,” David said to Margaret as they waited for Amelia to return. “He looks as if he’s trying to sell something.”
“You have good instincts.” She sent him a sidelong glance before frowning. “Viscount Lisford has a silver tongue. There are dozens of women he’s romanced and set aside.” She said nothing of herself, but he saw the trace of bitterness on her face. “I’ll murder him before I’ll let him hurt Amelia.”
“Then we are in agreement.” Even as he spoke, he noticed how her gaze followed Mr. Sinclair. “Who is the Scot?”
“A family friend.” Though she kept her voice even, he recognized a shield when he saw one. Not only did Miss Andrews know this man, but he suspected her defensiveness was there for a reason.
“If he is indeed a friend, shall I escort you over to speak with him?”
Her face flooded with color. “N-no. It wouldn’t be proper.” But her eyes gave a different story. Whether it was a harmless infatuation or a secret kept from her family, it was clear that Sinclair was one of the reasons Miss Andrews had remained unmarried.
Amelia joined them, and she appeared miserable. Before either of them could speak, she held up her hand. “I know you were right about Lord Lisford. But I don’t wish to hear ‘I told you so.’ Not just now.”
David offered her his arm, and she took it, but he could see the tears welling up in her eyes. He didn’t know what the viscount had said to Amelia, but he was relieved to see that she seemed well aware of the man’s character.
“Do you want to see more of the gardens?” he suggested.
“What I want is to crawl into a corner and cry,” she admitted. “But I won’t.”
“I would prefer it if you didn’t. I can’t say that I enjoy seeing a woman cry.” He led the two women toward the roses, but he suspected that it was likely best to take them home again.
Margaret Andrews, however, was glancing toward Mr. Sinclair. She was hanging back, and David suspected she only wanted a reason to slip away. He nodded to her silently and increased the pace, walking with Amelia at his side. Soon enough, Margaret had reached the Highlander.
“What are you doing—where is my sister?” Amelia queried.
“She has gone to speak with Mr. Sinclair. They are having a secret love affair, and no one is supposed to know.” He kept his tone dry, as if he were speaking of nothing important. By way of an afterthought, he added, “You see, I can talk about topics more interesting than the weather.”
Amelia’s mouth dropped open. “That’s impossible.”
David shrugged. “You needn’t look so surprised. Anyone with eyes would recognize how she feels about the man.”
“Our parents will kill her.” Amelia gaped and started forward before David caught her hand and held her back. “She swore she’d marry nothing less than a viscount.”
“I don’t think she would appreciate your interference just now.” He guided her toward the landau, where their servants stood waiting. “She’ll be along in a few moments.”
“I cannot believe her hypocrisy! She was lecturing me about how inappropriate Viscount Lisford was, when all the while she was carrying on with Mr. Sinclair.”
“Let her be.” Miss Andrews’s behavior was of little importance, but it had clearly made a strong impression on Amelia. “It doesn’t matter.”
“But she was supposed to marry you.” Amelia allowed him to help her into the landau, and from the dismay on her face, he realized that this was not about Margaret’s choices, but rather, about Amelia’s decisions.
“I already knew we weren’t suited to marry,” he told her. Miss Andrews was a decent enough woman, but he couldn’t imagine her with Christine. His daughter would torment Margaret if the young woman made any attempt to rein in her spirit.
He realized he was still holding Amelia’s gloved hand in his own from when he’d helped her inside. And she wasn’t fighting him at all. Instead, she stared at him.
“Give her a chance, my lord. This was just an indiscretion.” Her green eyes were pleading with him, and she squeezed his hand.
She’s just a girl, his mind insisted. Far too young. But the expression on her face held sadness. “Margaret deserves to be happy.”
“As do you,” he felt compelled to point out.
She released his hand, folding her palms together. “I don’t suppose I was suited to marry Lord Lisford.”
“You will find someone,” he promised. “And you’ll be happy.”
“So will you,” she said. “If you’re willing to open your eyes and try.”
For a heart-stopping moment, he thought she was talking about the two of them. He had a sudden vision of Amelia Andrews reaching out to embrace him. He suspected she wouldn’t know how to kiss a man. Innocent and untouched, he imagined the taste of her soft lips, the touch of her hands.
Desire roared through him, and he was stunned at the dormant needs that had suddenly flared to life. No. Not now, not with an impulsive slip of a girl. He wasn’t ready to let go of Katherine. This marriage was meant for Christine, not him.
Before he could speak another word, Amelia added, “If not my sister, then perhaps Miss Harrow or someone else on the list.”
He inhaled a sharp breath, thankful that he’d misunderstood her. “Perhaps.”
Margaret returned to them, and her face was flushed as if she’d been running. A few strands of hair were loose around her face, and he suspected what that meant. He risked a glance at Amelia, wondering if she knew what her sister had been doing.
“I am sorry,” Margaret said quickly. Without explaining her reasons, she said brightly, “What did I miss whilst I was gone?”
David sent a conspiratorial look toward Amelia. “Nothing. We were merely discussing the weather.”
Beatrice walked inside her bedroom and was startled to see Henry standing in front of her wardrobe, staring at her gowns.
“Is something the matter?” She couldn’t understand why he was here. Although he was her husband and had every right to be in her bedchamber, it seemed as if he’d been searching her belongings. It was almost intrusive.
Henry didn’t move from his position, and he touched one of the day dresses. “When was the last time you bought a new gown for yourself?”
“Five years ago,” Beatrice admitted. And truthfully, she’d been ashamed to wear it.
She’d felt as if she were trying to be one of the debutantes, seeking a husband.
When another gentleman had given her his attention, it had unnerved her.
She was past forty, well beyond the days when being beautiful meant something.
She resisted the urge to close the wardrobe. “I don’t really need new clothes, Henry. Our girls need gowns more than I do.” It was embarrassing to see him touching one of her gowns. The muslin had frayed at the hem, and the color had faded over time.
“Were things that bad when I was at war,” he asked quietly, “that you felt you couldn’t afford new clothing?”
She didn’t want to tell him the truth. Yes, it had been that bad.
They had been living in the Highlands where it was nearly impossible to bring in food and supplies during the winter.
She’d given up her own portion of food on several occasions, not wanting the girls to go hungry. They had survived—but barely.
He closed the wardrobe door. “It was, wasn’t it?” A moment later, he reached for her wrist, his strong palm touching her bare skin. “I noticed that most of your jewelry is gone. Including the sapphire bracelet I gave you.”
A harsh lump closed up her throat, and she willed the tears back. “I sold it to pay for the things we needed.”
He said nothing for a long time. The silence hung between them with the weight of a marriage.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked at last.
“Because even if I had, you couldn’t come home. And your brother controlled the estates at that time.” Henry’s older brother had spent money on whatever he wanted, so much that when her husband inherited the title upon his death, they had also inherited the debts.
“I would have found a way to help you,” he said.
“I didn’t want to trouble you with our problems when you were so far away.” She traced the outline of the wardrobe, not wanting to look at him. The dark expression on his face was a blend of anger and sadness.
“You’re my wife,” he said. “I would have done something.” His hand slid from her wrist down to her palm.
“We learned to take care of ourselves,” Beatrice said. And though it had been so hard, she’d found a strength she hadn’t known about. “And I never needed sapphires and diamonds.”
I needed a husband, she thought inwardly. Someone to hold me at night when I was afraid.
“Where is the bracelet now?”
“I don’t know. I sent it to Charlotte and she gave me the money for it. I suppose she sold it to a jeweler.”
He released her palm. “We’re not destitute, Beatrice. If you want new gowns and jewels, buy whatever you want. I’ll take care of the bills.”
It was clear to her that Henry didn’t understand. No longer was it about appearances in society or demonstrating her family’s wealth through diamonds.
She’d gained something more in those harsh years—the knowledge that she didn’t need anyone but herself. She had weathered the storm and come out stronger for it.
“I don’t want jewels anymore, Henry.”
“Then what do you want?”
She shrugged. There was little she needed now. Her girls were grown, and two of them were married with children. Forcing a smile, she said, “A kiss from a grandchild is enough for me.”
“And what about a husband?”
The loneliness in his voice struck hard, and she didn’t know what to say.
Heat flooded her cheeks, but she couldn’t imagine stepping into his arms. They had grown so distant over the past few years.
He’d criticized her for continuing to help with Aphrodite’s Unmentionables and had grown angry any time she’d mentioned it.
Though she knew it wasn’t what he wanted, she leaned in and kissed his cheek. “I will see you at dinner,” she finished.
And when she left her room, she pushed away the emptiness of her own aching heart.