Chapter Twenty-Five – Something Amiss
Over the next few weeks, Beth watched her husband carefully. Although she allowed him the space he needed, she insisted they share their meals together and frequently sought him out throughout the day, doing her best to draw him into a conversation or at the very least to make him smile. At first, he seemed mildly irritated with her efforts, despite tell-tale signs that her company was not altogether unpleasant.
Whenever they sat together during a meal or in the drawing room, each following their own pastime, Beth often felt his eyes on her, sliding over her face almost caressingly. Her heart would rejoice at such a sign of affection, for she could no longer believe that his heart was not stirred by the bond that slowly grew between them. Though only few words were spoken, a silent understanding developed between them.
After a while, Beth even found him seeking her out in a most subtle way. Wherever she was, be it in the gardens or the library or the drawing room, he would find her and seat himself not too far away and read a book or newspaper, tend to his correspondence or merely enjoy the first truly warm days of the year.
These moments were precious to Beth, and yet, they made her wonder.
Despite her dislike of the man, Beth could not refuse the occasional supper invitation dutifully issued by Mrs. Turner or urge her own husband to forgo to invite his family into their own home. And yet, whenever they spent a few hours together here and there, Beth was shocked to see the lack of emotions within her husband’s family.
While Mrs. Turner showed a certain level of affection for her son and to a somewhat lesser degree for her nephew as well, Mr. Turner appeared to be unaware of the mere existence of love. His eyes were hard and calculating, and rarely did a kind word leave his lips. He seemed to hold no regard for his wife, and even his son seemed a mere representation of his own success, a young man to mould into an image of himself.
Stunned as well as saddened beyond comprehension, Beth watched their interactions, no longer wondering why her husband often appeared unable to give in to his emotions. After being raised in such a household, she started to wonder where he had first learnt of the meaning of love.
Then she remembered that he had a sister.
Had she been the one to teach him that there was more in life than fortune and title? Reputation and appearance? Had she loved him? Did she still? Was she the reason Tristan’s heart was not as cold as his uncle’s but secretly yearning for someone to love?
Beth wished he would confide in her.
However, he did not. Judging from what she had learnt of his family, Beth thought that his uncle would probably deem such a display of trust and affection a weakness, and, therefore, a disgrace to the family.
“I admit I am fairly surprised,” Beth said one afternoon as she sat in the front drawing room with her grandmother and half-sister, sipping tea. “I never expected anything remotely like this, and I must say it makes me wonder what that man’s intentions are.”
Shifting rather uncomfortably in her seat, Lady Adelaide set down her cup. “Maybe he merely wishes to welcome you into the family.”
Beth snorted, thus startling her half-sister and earning a chiding look from the dowager. “I apologise,” she mumbled. “I merely intended to point out that Mr. Turner has never failed to display his disapproval of our marriage, which is why I cannot fathom what would prompt him to hold a ball in our honour. Mark my words, something is most certainly amiss!”
“Is it not possible that he has changed his mind?” Lady Adelaide asked, her gentle eyes shifting to her grandmother for support. “Maybe we have all misjudged him.”
Stunned, Beth looked at her half-sister, slightly shaking her head. “You are too kind, my dear Adelaide. You see only the best in people even when there’s nothing to see. It is noble, but unfortunately, it is often also undeserving.”
Her half-sister sighed, once more reaching for her tea.
Shifting her gaze to her grandmother, Beth noticed a touch of concern in the old woman’s pale eyes as though she, too, feared for her granddaughter’s well-being once she discovered that the world was far from the place she might wish it to be. In a strange way, she reminded Beth of her husband since she refused to see what was right in front of her in a similar fashion, stubbornly holding on to a fictitious world.
After her grandmother and half-sister took their leave, Beth decided to speak to her husband, hoping to find out more about that mysterious ball his uncle was holding in their honour. Walking down the corridor, Beth opened the door without bothering to knock.
Although Tristan hated it when she simply barged in, Beth secretly delighted in the shocked expression that came to his face whenever she would surprise him. The way he became flustered as his eyes were drawn to hers sent tingles of pleasure through her body, and she simply could not bring herself to stop.
Stepping over the threshold, Beth spied him standing by the large window front, a glass in his hand, his back turned to her.
Involuntarily, a smile drew up the corners of her mouth, and once again, she wondered at the strange effect his mere presence had on her. “Hello, Tristan,” she said as the door fell closed behind her with a bit more force than intended.
As a result, her husband flinched, and the glass slipped from his grasp.
Taken aback, Beth froze as it shattered on the floor, spilling the remaining liquid on her husband’s shoes.
Spinning around, Tristan stared at her, a hand held to his chest. “Have I not asked you countless times not to sneak up on me, my lady?” he demanded, his narrowed eyes shifting from her to the mess at his feet.
“You have,” Beth replied, stepping closer, an amused smile coming to her lips. “And have I not asked you countless times not to call me my lady?”
His eyes drifted to hers for a split second, a touch of embarrassment resting in them, before he cleared his throat, his gaze shifting around the room as though desperately searching for something to keep his mind occupied. Then, instead of ringing for a maid, Tristan unexpectedly knelt to pick up the glass shards littering the floor.
Thoroughly amused by his flustered reaction, Beth rushed to his side, kneeling beside him and reaching for a piece of glass.
“I can take care of this,” he grumbled next to her ear, his cheeks reddening slightly as he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “There’s no need for you to assist me. You’ll only end up cutting yours−” He sucked in a sharp breath.
“What?” Beth asked, raising her eyes from the floor. “Did you cut yourself?” she asked, eyeing his right hand as he tried to hide it behind his leg.
“No,” he snapped, avoiding looking at her.
Beth laughed, “Yes, you did.”
“Fine.” Rising to his feet, he turned away, depositing the collected shards on his desk. “Would you mind−?”
Without hesitation, Beth stepped up to him and drew his hand into hers.
As her skin brushed over his, he drew in a slow breath as though needing to steel himself.
“Is my touch so unbearable for you?” Beth asked teasingly as she examined the small cut on his fingertip. Then she met his gaze, a smile playing on her lips, before she produced a handkerchief and gently wrapped it around his finger. “There,” she whispered, once more looking up at him with a twinkle in her eye that caused him to frown. “And a kiss to make it better.” Pushing herself up onto her toes, Beth barely noticed the look of sudden shock that came to his eyes before she placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.
As she lowered herself, her cheek brushed against his. His arms suddenly came around her, keeping her from stepping back.
He met her eyes then, and his hands on her back tightened, pulling her closer as he drew in a shaky breath. A battle of emotions waged on his face, and he gritted his teeth. “You should not have done this,” he grumbled, his voice sounding hoarse.
“But I wanted to,” Beth replied teasingly as she held his gaze, her hands sliding up his arms. Then she angled her head toward his and licked her lips. “I dare you.”
The muscles in his neck convulsed as he continued to wage a war with himself. And yet, his mouth moved closer as his hands pulled her up against him. His lips sought hers as his eyes continued to ravage her face in a desperate attempt to find the answers he sought.
Beth closed her eyes then. However, in the last second before she would have felt his touch, he turned his head away with a groan. His shoulders slumped, and his forehead came to rest against the side of her neck with a sense of frustration.
Feeling a similar disappointment, Beth slid her hands up his neck and over his shoulders, holding him close. “I’ve missed you,” she whispered in his ear, and a shudder shook his frame.
Still holding her in his arms, he moved his head and the tip of his nose brushed along the side of her neck, his warm breath tickling her skin as goose bumps rose on her arms and legs.
Beth drew in a shaky breath as the world around her began to blur in the most delicious way. Snuggling closer, she imitated what he had done a moment before and gently kissed the side of his neck.
He sucked in a sharp breath, then immediately stepped back, his arms releasing her.
For a moment, Beth swayed on her feet, a deep disappointment filling her heart. However, when she saw the pained expression on his face as he hastily stepped around his desk, her resolve softened.
“I still have work to do,” he mumbled, his eyes fixed on the papers on his desk as he rang the bell for a maid to clean up the mess on the floor. “I shall see you at supper.”
Although Beth could not help but feel annoyed with his stubborn insistence to keep her at a distance, she knew without a doubt that his emotional issues could not be overcome that easily. As she had promised, she would give him time, and yet, she had warned him that she would test his resolve. “I’ll look forward to it,” she said, a deep smile coming to her face.
As she walked by his desk toward the door, he stared back at her, the expression on his face almost dumbfounded as though he could not believe what had just happened.