Chapter 18 #2
Amore. He called me amore. My love. Bea, amore, you mean so much to me.
“It doesn’t matter.” Beatrice shook her head to dispel the memories. “He’s made his decision and I’ve made mine.” She took a deep breath. “I shall marry Jasper.”
“But if you don’t love him?—”
“Does that matter?” Beatrice turned her face to Anna sharply. “After everything you’ve done to prepare me for marriage, after everything Silas has done? Why should it matter who I do or do not love?”
“Of course, it matters.” Anna didn’t rise to her angry bait. She simply took hold of both of Beatrice’s hands and held them softly. “You matter, Bea. Your thoughts and feelings are of utmost importance to me.”
Beatrice deflated under her kindness, falling into Anna’s arm with a little moan.
“Jasper will love me,” Beatrice whispered against Anna’s soft blonde hair. “He will adore me and look after me and I shall be a viscountess. I shall make you all proud. That’s all that matters.”
“Oh, my sweet Bea,” Anna tenderly kissed the top of her head. “To be loved by one’s husband does matter—of course it does—but so does loving one’s spouse. Will simply being loved by him be enough for you?”
No. Never. No one but Giovanni shall ever be enough.
“It shall have to be,” Beatrice said.
“How was your meeting, Gio?” Silas asked Giovanni during dinner.
“It was fine,” Giovanni swallowed down a piece of venison, trying not to look at Beatrice.
She sat next to him at the dining table, Silas and Anna across from them.
She had changed since they had arrived back at Fallenbrook.
She was wearing one of her ordinary day dresses, a dark mossy green one with a froth of white lace at the bosom for modesty.
The problem was that Giovanni now knew every curve of Beatrice’s body, concealing lace be damned.
A flimsy piece of fabric wasn’t any match for his memory—he could see the fine line of Beatrice’s small but perfect breasts as if she was wearing no clothes at all.
He diverted his gaze to his meal, feeling hot under the collar.
Good God, will I ever be able to look at her normally again?
“What was it about?” Silas asked across the table, generously pouring Giovanni another glass of wine.
“Oh, nothing of importance,” Giovanni said lightly.
Giovanni had no intention of revealing the truth of the meeting to Silas.
He hadn’t decided what he would do about Grafton’s claims and the opportunities he was offering him.
Until he made his decision, he would keep it a secret.
He didn’t even intend to tell Silas that he had met his father, as he knew Silas would have no trouble finding out who that person was from a small piece of information.
“Nothing of importance?” Silas raised his eyebrows in disbelief.
“We can discuss it later,” Giovanni added, smiling at Anna as if nothing was wrong.
Silas caught his hint and nodded, sipping his wine elegantly.
Giovanni knew he would have to think of something to tell Silas to deter him.
Only Beatrice knew the truth. Instinctively, Giovanni looked at Beatrice.
He wished he could ask her not to say anything, but he thought there was a chance that Beatrice might never speak to him properly again.
Suddenly, Beatrice looked up at him, her eyes catching his.
“I won’t say anything,” she breathed quietly under the guise of taking a sip from her wine.
Giovanni looked furtively across the table but saw Silas and Anna hadn’t heard her. He was overwhelmed with gratitude for her. She was angry with him, but not angry enough to betray his secrets. She is too good for me. She has always been too good for me.
“Thank you,” he murmured under the pretense of taking the butter from her.
She nodded tightly, her eyes flickering back to Anna, smiling tightly.
With a lurch of his stomach, Giovanni saw that Silas’s wife was watching them carefully, a slightly concerned expression on her face.
Did she know? Had Beatrice said something to her?
“Is something wrong, Anna?” Giovanni asked politely. “Is the wine not to your liking?”
“Oh, forgive me,” Anna shook her head, smiling. “It is only…well, I have some news to share.”
“You do?” Silas looked at her, swiveling his head quickly. Giovanni realized then that Silas and Anna must be hoping for a second child, but Anna quickly shook her head, smiling demurely to defer her husband’s excitement.
“It is news for our dear Beatrice,” Anna smiled. “I have had a letter today from Lord Milton.”
Giovanni curled his hand into a fist under the table but made sure his face remained impassive.
Beside him, Beatrice had stiffened.
“Oh?” She asked, raising her glass to take a small sip. Giovanni saw her throat working intensely, as if it were hard to swallow. “What did the viscount say?”
“That he shall come and call on you here at Fallenbrook, if Silas permits.” Anna’s eyes turned to her husband, who took her hand on the table. “I suppose I should not tell you this part, but since we have been so open about every part of your marital arrangements?—”
Giovanni felt a tightness clenching in his stomach, threatening to climb into his lungs.
It was happening, he could feel it. This was the moment she would finally and truly be out of his reach, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
He gripped the stem of his wine glass and stared at Beatrice’s hand, which sat beside her plate, loose and unassuming.
He wanted to hold it, to help her through this moment that he knew must be hurting her, but he couldn’t. He mustn’t.
“—but he has asked for Silas’s permission to propose marriage to you!” Anna finished, her eyes sparkling joyfully. “Isn’t that wonderful?”
“What capital news!” Silas said, reaching to kiss his wife’s cheek. “Oh, my darling, we should never have achieved such heights in society without your guidance.”
“Oh, you flatter me, Beatrice was always destined for greatness,” Anna said, blushing furiously.
“No, it is true,” Beatrice said. Her voice was light, but knowing Beatrice like he did, Giovanni could catch its slight mechanical undertone. “I should never have dreamed of such a match without your help, Anna.”
“You shall be a viscountess.” Silas shook his head in amazement. “Good lord, Beatrice, I could never have imagined such wonders for you.”
“Nor I.” Giovanni watched Beatrice’s fingers pick at the tines of her fork.
“So I should extend our invitation for the viscount to visit?” Silas asked playfully, his eyes twinkling with pride. The sight of it made Giovanni feel sick. How he longed for Silas to have that look in his eyes when thinking of Giovanni as his sister’s future husband.
“Yes, should you like that, Beatrice?” Anna asked eagerly.
Both of them were asking, in nauseatingly coy terms, if Beatrice would accept the proposal.
Giovanni looked at Silas and Anna, with their hopeful smiles and faces flush with victory, and felt cold.
Then he glanced at Beatrice. He saw her slip her hand under the table and how her little fingers gripped the edge of the chair tightly.
“Of course, I should,” Beatrice said sweetly. “I should be honored to accept the viscount.”
Giovanni couldn’t speak. He felt like the world was turning around him while he sat, silent, in the center of it.
He heard Silas and Anna burst into celebratory toasts and felt himself lifting his wine glass obediently, stretching his mouth into a tense smile and performing the part of a supportive friend.
But his eyes drifted back to Beatrice’s hand, still gripping the edge of her chair with white knuckles.
Instinctively, under the tablecloth, he reached out to touch her, to try to comfort her.
Almost as if she could feel his thoughts, she lifted her hand and set it back on the table, out in public where she could not be reached.
It was a subtle gesture, but it struck Giovanni in the heart like a bullet fired from a pistol.
He was too late. She was already moving out of his reach. Soon, she would be lost to him forever.