Chapter Twelve
Beatrice entered the breakfast room with a serene expression that hid her inner turmoil. She’d slept little, haunted by dreams of Graham, by yearnings for things she did not even fully understand.
The room was full. Everyone was there, including Lady Agatha. Pale and wan, she’d nonetheless roused herself to join the others. Edmund was seated near her, Eloise at his side, looking rather ragged and tired. Whether it was a result of overindulgence in wine or a long evening spent in the arms of her lover was anyone’s guess. Christopher was his typically sullen self, lounging negligently in his chair and refusing to make eye contact with anyone. Was it guilt over cuckolding his cousin right under the same roof?
Lady Agatha smiled at Beatrice. “Good morning, dear! I’m so glad you’ve come down for breakfast. Do tell Graham that I don’t need a doctor! I’m feeling perfectly fine now.”
“You are not,” Beatrice said and walked over to kiss the older woman’s cheek. “You’re still pale and weak, though you do look much better. As for this new doctor, I believe he is already en route, so it’s far too late to cancel and it would be impossibly rude to have him come all this way only to be shuffled off again.”
Lady Agatha waved her away. “Stop being so very logical. It’s an unappealing quality in young women.”
“How did you know the doctor was on his way?”
The question had come from Edmund, his tone ugly and suspicious. Beatrice realized immediately that she’d misspoken, alerting everyone to the fact that she’d had a private conversation with Graham before he’d informed anyone else.
“I was thrown from my horse last night. I sustained a cut and Beatrice was kind enough, along with her maid, to stitch the wound,” Graham answered. “You’ve a nasty turn of mind, Edmund.”
“Thrown from your horse?” Christopher sneered. “No gentleman worth his salt is ever thrown.”
“I’m not a gentleman… I was by birth but, by raising, I am a sailor and we do not mix well with horses,” Graham replied easily.
If Christopher had meant to offend, Beatrice thought he would need to work much harder. Graham, despite years of going through life without knowing his own name, seemed to be infinitely more certain about what manner of man he was than any gentleman of her acquaintance.
Still puzzling over that after filling her plate, and in deference of the charged atmosphere in the room, Beatrice seated herself near Lady Agatha and avoided speaking to any of the men present. Mindful of what Betsy had said about others being able to sense the connection between her and Graham, she felt it wise not to offer further ammunition than they already had. They had only one ally at that table and given Lady Agatha’s fragile state, it would be unwise to depend upon her to intervene should Edmund or Christopher begin tossing out accusations.
Is it an accusation if it’s true? The condemning voice of her own conscience, the very conscience that would not let her forget how he had kissed her and, even more importantly, how desperately she had kissed him in return, was an inconvenience at the moment and one she could ill afford.
“If you mean to run this estate, then perhaps you should attempt to acquaint yourself with it,” Edmund challenged. “But that would be difficult for a man who professes to have so little skill with riding. Many of the farms are only accessible by horseback… unless of course you wish to walk like a commoner.”
“I’d remind you that being common is not a crime,” Lady Agatha said. “You, but for the grace of my late husband and his very forgiving nature when it came to his brother, would be working as a vicar or a solicitor today, Edmund. A gentleman still, to be sure, but one with gainful employment.”
Edmund’s face purpled with suppressed rage, but he said nothing further. Instead, he focused on his plate as he stabbed a sausage far more forcefully than necessary.
“I’ve no problem with a man going into trade,” Eloise said. “Though I daresay solicitors and vicars would hardly be wealthy enough to catch my eye long enough to overlook such a flaw.”
“Do shut up, Eloise,” Edmund snapped.
“We’re rusticating here in the country! We could be in London, Edmund!” she replied, her voice rising sharply. “We could be attending parties and balls. Instead, we hide here in this drafty old place with nothing to entertain us!”
Beatrice choked on her tea. The sip she’d taken had been swallowed along with her gasp. Was it sheer boredom that had prompted Eloise’s dalliance with Christopher? She dared a glance in Graham’s direction to see him studying his cousin-in-law surreptitiously. Eloise was a puzzle to be sure.
After several moments of silence, Graham spoke, breaking the quiet like shattering a glass. “I shall acquaint myself with the estate, Edmund. You are correct. I will begin with the tenants in the village,” Graham said. “I mean to go there today and inquire about whether or not their needs are being adequately met.” In point of fact, he meant to ascertain whether the repairs that were recorded in the books had actually taken place. It was an easy enough way to siphon money from the estate.
“Their needs?” Edmund guffawed, but there was a nervousness in his response that could not be entirely hidden by his bravado and bluster. “You will bankrupt us all if you approach it that way.”
“By repairing dwellings and business that we own? Hardly,” Graham fired back. “But this is not a conversation to have over breakfast. We will discuss it privately.”
Edmund rose from the table then, pushing back from it abruptly. “Then let us discuss it now. I’ll await you in the study… assuming you can find your way.”
After Edmund marched out, Graham sighed heavily. He hesitated for only a moment then placed his napkin upon the table and rose. To Lady Agatha he said, “Excuse me, please. I apologize for leaving so abruptly.”
“I’m very gratified to see you taking such interest in the estate, Graham,” Lady Agatha said. “It gives me hope that you mean to stay. Doesn’t it, Beatrice?”
“It does,” she answered. It also meant that when he discovered the nature of the finances of the estate, and how desperately an influx of cash was needed, they’d be further apart than ever. “I need to speak to you, my lord, before you depart.”
Other than a raised eyebrow and a nod of his head, there was no response. Beatrice rose and followed him out into the hall. She dragged him away from the always listening servants and ducked into a small alcove near the drawing room.
“You cannot think to go traipsing over the estate with Edmund,” she hissed in a low whisper.
“Why not?” he asked with all the nonchalance of a man who believed himself invincible.
“Because someone tried to kill you last night and it could very well have been Edmund!” As obtuse as he was being, she felt like strangling him herself. “If it was not him, there is very little he would do to intercede if another attempt were made today.”
“And as everyone on the estate knows, I will be with him. He’ll do nothing lest he rouse suspicion,” Graham replied stiffly. “If I didn’t know better, Beatrice, I’d think you were concerned for me!”
It was clear that any protest would fall on deaf ears. He had decided, after all, and if there were any traits of the old Graham that remained, they were his contrariness and intractability. “Of course, I’m concerned. How could you think otherwise?”
He arched his dark brows and shrugged, the expression and gesture imbued with equal amounts of sarcasm. “Considering how eager you were to be rid of my company last night, is it any wonder?”
“Last night, and every time we have behaved so recklessly and with so little restraint, has been a mistake. Surely you see that?”
“If I were a real gentleman, a dandy in fine clothes with perfect manners, would you still feel that way?” he asked.
Beatrice’s palm itched with the urge to slap the smugness from his face. “If you were those things, it would not be an issue because I would not have the feelings for you that I do! Do you think that I’ve never had suitors? That men with pretty manners and pretty clothes have never tried to court me? Whatever is between us isn’t in spite of who you are, it’s because of who you are!”
She turned to walk away, practically stomping her feet in high dudgeon. He grasped her wrist and pulled her back. They were out of sight of the servants, but still within earshot.
“You madden me. You make me say things and feel things that I cannot even recognize,” he admitted gruffly.
“I am as out of my element as you. Clearly, of the two of us, you have more experience,” she pointed out.
He kissed her then, his lips molding to hers so tenderly that it made her ache. Hidden in the shadowy alcove, his mouth moved over hers with exquisite precision. It was not about seduction, for neither of them had time to indulge in such activities. It was affection, caring, tenderness—that kiss encapsulated all the things she wanted most from him and the things that she feared losing far more than just passion.
When the kiss broke, he spoke softly, his lips only a breath from hers. “No, Beatrice. I have bedded women in the past, to be sure. But what is between us is as new to me as it is to you… that I promise you. Go back to Lady Agatha. I promise to be cautious today. Will that suffice?”
“It will have to,” she conceded, her own voice tremulous and breathless. Every part of her was in turmoil as she turned and made for the breakfast room. Her hands were shaking and her knees were knocking together but, somehow, she brazened it out.
If anyone noted the high color in her cheeks when she returned, no one dared comment. As she took her seat, once more, Beatrice noted the long and lingering look that passed between Christopher and Eloise. He excused himself first, if it could be called that when he simply rose and walked out. Eloise made a pretty excuse only a moment later and scurried after him.
“This house should be filled with happiness now,” Lady Agatha said sadly. “But everyone seems to be at war with one another. Why is that, Beatrice?”
“People are uncertain… with Graham returned, no one knows their place in the house anymore. He will take over the running of the estate, which has been Edmund’s purveyance. Because the world at large believed him dead, it was always assumed that Christopher would be the heir one day and now that hope is gone for him, leaving him at loose ends like the rest of us.”
“And you, my dear?”
Beatrice looked down at her plate. The food was like sawdust in her mouth. “He will marry eventually, as all men of his standing must. And when he does, I will no longer have a place in this household.”
“He would never allow you to be tossed out!”
And she could never live beneath the same roof as the woman who occupied the very role she desired so fiercely for herself. But she would not admit that to Lady Agatha. “Wives have ways of changing a man’s mind, Lady Agatha. But for now, things will continue on as they have been. Let us not borrow trouble.”