Chapter 11
“You may leave me now.” Bea faced Darius proudly as she stood in the middle of her bedchamber a few minutes later.
Knowing the two of them could not remain in the orangery indefinitely, she had insisted, if Darius intended to continue with this conversation, they do so in her bedchamber, well away from possible detection from her other guests.
She had kept Darius’s jacket wrapped about her nakedness as the two of them moved quietly through the house and up the staircase, the sound of her guests’ laughter coming from the drawing room now a jarring note on Bea’s already frayed nerves.
She had gone to her dressing room as soon as she entered her bedchamber and now wore her robe over her night rail. She had wished Darius gone by the time she returned to her bedchamber but was not surprised when he was not.
Her chin rose. “I promise you I will not attempt to run away.”
He gave a pained frown. “I did not for a moment think that you would.”
Her mouth twisted. “And yet here you remain.”
Because Darius did not want to leave. Did not want to be apart from her. Tomorrow morning, all would be changed. At his request, she had not admitted her guilt to him, but neither had she defended herself against his accusations, leaving Darius with no choice but to take her with him when he returned to London tomorrow.
But he also meant it when he said he would do all he could to help her. It was the least he could do. The least he could do? Why try to fool himself? If Bea paid the full price for her crime, if she was hanged, a part of him would die with her. Perhaps the best part. The part of him that now saw the possibility of hitherto unknown emotions as well as that overwhelming desire to possess her.
His mouth thinned. “I will talk to the Prince Regent on your behalf.”
She gave a shake of her head. “What good would that do?” She moved to sit on the side of the bed. “I am guilty, Darius. There. I have said it.” She sighed.
“Damn it!” He scowled darkly. “I told you not to—”
“I have said it, and now there is no going back,” Bea said simply. “I am tired, Darius. So tired of living this lie. Of living with the guilt.”
“Why did you do it?” Darius had seen no evidence either in her demeanor or her words of any treasonable feelings toward the Crown or country.
She sighed. “I will not discuss that with you.”
“You must—”
“I must do nothing of the sort!” Her eyes flashed darkly, her knuckles showing white as she gripped her hands tightly together in her lap. “It was too much to hope my past actions would not catch up with me one day. And so they have,” she added wearily. “I have said I will accept my fate, but I will not talk about why I did it with you or anyone else. Now, please leave me.”
Darius frowned his frustration, but there was no doubting that Bea was speaking the truth when she said she was tired of living this way. It was as if she might shatter into a million pieces if he continued to push this subject further. No doubt the exertion of their rough physical activity earlier was adding to her air of fragility.
“Very well.” He nodded abruptly. “Tomorrow, we go to London.”
She frowned. “Sir Edwin Greaves is the local magistrate.”
“I am here on behalf of the Crown,” he reminded her. “We must go to London, and before we get there, you will talk to me. Your cooperation on this matter will serve as part of your defense,” he insisted as she shook her head.
She smiled without humor. “I have told you, I have no defense. Presented with the same circumstances, I would do it all over again.”
Darius barely held his impatience in check. “You will hang if you continue along this stubborn path.”
She focused emotionless brown eyes on him. “I will hang anyway.”
Darius scowled his frustration. “Why will you not defend yourself?”
“Because to do so would involve other people, innocent people, who do not deserve to share in my shame.”
Darius could not help but admire her air of absolute dignity and determination. Even if a part of him wished to shake her until her teeth rattled.
A gentle knock sounded on the door before it was opened. “Oh. I am sorry, my lady.” The young lady Darius recognized as Bea’s maid stood blushing in the doorway as she saw the two of them together, her mistress wearing only her nightclothes.
“It is perfectly all right, Jane.” Bea gave her a reassuring smile. “I shall not need you again tonight.” She waited until the maid had left before speaking to Darius again. “I asked you to leave.” She stood up, only that quiet pride Darius so admired now holding her together. “I promise you I shall be packed and ready to accompany you to London first thing in the morning.”
“Bea, for God’s sake, you have to let me help you—”
“No.” There was a finality to that one word, a brittleness to the proud way in which she faced Darius, which advised against any further argument on his part. “You deceived me as to your reason for being here. Have lied to me repeatedly since. Have admitted you made love to me under false pretenses. Why should I ever listen to another word you have to say to me?”
“Because—” Because what? Because he cared for her? Because the thought of losing her ripped a deep black hole in him he knew would never be filled but would remain there inside him, a dark and festering wound. “My desire for you is not a lie. Or my offer to help you.”
Her smile did not reach her eyes. “It is far too late for that.”
“I will defend you, Bea, against anyone and everything,” he insisted tautly. “Whether you wish it or not.”
“That is your prerogative.” She eyed him coolly. “If you will excuse me, I must dress again now and go downstairs and say good night to my guests. I will also have to explain I have been called away on urgent family business, so that they all know to depart tomorrow.”
Darius had never felt so frustrated in his life. By Bea’s stubborn refusal to accept his help. By the knowledge she had every reason to distrust him.
It did not help his disturbed state of mind that he heard her gentle sobs the moment he was back in the adjoining bedchamber. She had not locked that adjoining door behind him when he left, and Darius now fought an inner battle to stop himself from going back to hold and comfort Bea as she cried. She had made it more than plain she did not want him. Not his comfort now or his intention to defend her in the future.
Whether Bea wished it or not, Darius fully intended doing the latter.
“My God…!” Quinlan gasped the following morning the moment entered the bedchamber carrying a breakfast tray and saw Darius’s disheveled appearance.
“Your Grace will do,” Darius drawled mockingly as he stood in front of one of the windows.
The same window, he recalled with a stab of pain in his chest, at which he had enjoyed pleasuring himself while an aroused Bea watched. Was it possible that had happened only two days ago? It seemed a lifetime ago.
Because his life had changed. He had changed. He was no longer that selfish bastard who had arrived at Hanwell Manor, determined to prove Lady Beatrix Hanwell’s guilt or innocence as quickly as possible so that he might return to London and carry on with his own life.
“You look dreadful.” Quinlan’s gaze remained on Darius as he placed the tray down on a side table. “And why are you still wearing the clothes in which you were dressed yesterday evening?”
“Possibly because my valet was too busy seducing his lover last night to come to my room and help me undress,” he taunted.
The other man gave a snort. “We both know you are perfectly capable of undressing yourself.”
Darius stepped away from the window. “I see you did not deny my accusation of seduction.”
The valet shifted uncomfortably. “The man…holds a power over me which I have never encountered before.”
A power Darius completely understood, when it was the same one Kilby’s mistress now held over him. “How do you feel about the Continent, Quinlan?”
The other man looked suitably puzzled. “In what regard, Your Grace?”
“In regard to living there.”
Quinlan was taken aback. “Your Grace…?”
Darius had been in an agony of turmoil the previous night as he listened to Bea’s sobs in the adjoining room, wanting to go to her but knowing she did not want him there. She had eventually stopped crying, and then there was only silence as she dressed and returned downstairs to say goodnight to her guests. He heard her return a short time later, and then only silence, and he assumed she slept.
Darius was not so lucky. His night had been both sleepless and long as he considered the options over and over again in his mind, until he gave himself a headache.
Despite what he had said to Bea, once they reached London, Darius knew there was every chance the situation, and Bea, would then be taken out of his hands. Oh, he could appeal to the Prince Regent on Bea’s behalf, might even be able to persuade Stonewell into supporting him in that defense, but ultimately, Darius knew it would make little difference. Bea had admitted herself guilty of treason and would no doubt do so again once she was questioned in London. Even if they managed to have the sentence of hanging commuted in favor of Bea instead being sent to prison, there was every reason to believe she would perish inside those damp and disease-infested walls.
Something Darius could not bear to contemplate. “It is my intention to remove Lady Hanwell and her maid from England as soon as possible and find some obscure place where we might live quietly and undisturbed. There is every possibility we might be able to persuade Kilby into coming with us,” he tempted as Quinlan continued to stare at him blankly.
“Let me see if I have understood you correctly…” The other man finally stirred himself enough to frown. “You intend to accompany Lady Hanwell to the Continent, along with myself and that lady’s maid and butler, and remain there?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Indefinitely.” He could not envision a time when it would be safe for Bea to step foot on English soil again.
“Why?”
Darius’s jaw tightened. “Is that not obvious?”
“To you perhaps, but—” Quinlan’s brow cleared. “My God, she has admitted her guilt.”
Darius paced restlessly. “Not only that, but she will do so again to others once we reach London. I cannot allow that to happen. We will accompany her to the Continent and remain there.”
“I still do not understand why… You care for her,” Quinlan finally realized.
He nodded. “Enough that I will not allow her to hang.”
“Do you intend to marry her once on the Continent?”
His mouth twisted. “I would need the lady’s cooperation to do that, and I have every reason to believe she will not give it.” He straightened. “Whatever does or does not happen in that regard, I cannot risk taking her to London to answer for her crimes.”
Quinlan nodded. “I understand.”
His brows rose. “You do?”
“Do not look so surprised.” His valet grimaced. “The thought of Jeremy’s—Kilby’s pretty neck in a hangman’s noose would be as unacceptable to me.” He gave a shudder at the thought of it. “If he will agree to accompany us, I am willing to leave England whenever you wish to go.”
Darius gave a self-disgusted shake of his head. “What a pair we are, Quinlan.”
The other man shrugged. “We are not the same two jaded men who arrived here only days ago, that is for certain.”
No, they were not. It was—
“Dear Lord, I forgot!” Quinlan exclaimed. “This letter was delivered a short time ago.” He picked the missive up from the breakfast tray. “I allowed myself to become distracted by your disheveled appearance when I entered the bedchamber and forgot to give it to you,” he added ruefully. “It bears the Duke of Stonewell’s seal.”
Darius took the letter but did not open it immediately, unsure if he wished to open it at all. His decision to leave England with Bea had not been an easy one to make and would involve distancing himself from the seven men who had become his family these past twenty-five years or more. Reading a letter from Dominik would not change his decision, but it would certainly cause Darius unnecessary pain to dwell on his estrangement from his friends.
“Start packing,” he instructed Quinlan briskly. “We will leave as soon as Lady Hanwell’s maid has also packed their things.” Darius had no intention of telling Bea yet as to their change in destination. “Do you think you can talk to Kilby without his discussing it with Lady Hanwell?” Unlike Darius, Bea was resigned to her fate and would no doubt put up a fight if she knew he never intended for her to reach London. “If Kilby agrees to come with us, he can travel in the second coach with you later this morning, and so avoid detection from Lady Hanwell.”
Quinlan’s cheeks became flushed. “I have every reason to believe Kilby does not wish to be parted from me any more than I wish to be apart from him.”
Darius nodded. “Then go to him, man, and let us all leave here as quickly as we are able.”
He waited until his valet had left the bedchamber before breaking the seal on the letter and reading the contents.
“Whatever you are guilty of, it is certainly not treason!”
Bea frowned as Darius entered her bedchamber through the doorway adjoining their two rooms without so much as knocking first. She really must remember to lock that door in future—
Her irritated thoughts came to an abrupt halt as she realized she had no future, here or anywhere else.
She had been up since before dawn and was already washed and dressed for traveling as she sat in a chair beside the window. Jane had not arrived with her breakfast tray as yet, but once she did, Bea intended asking the maid to pack her clothes for a stay in London. At this point, her household staff did not need to know she would not be returning from that visit.
She frowned at Darius’s enigmatic comment. “Why on earth would you suppose I was guilty of such a heinous crime?”
“Because you told me you were!”
She raised her brows as Darius impatiently crossed the room to loom over her. “I most certainly did not.”
“Then what the hell were you admitting to being guilty of last night?”
“I… Why I…” Bea gave a bewildered shake of her head. “You thought I had committed treason?” A sense of outrage entered her tone as she stood up. “I am utterly loyal to the Crown and England. I would never— This is the real reason for coming here so unexpectedly and uninvited? Why you seduced me?”
“It was my initial intention, yes,” he acknowledged heavily. “But that changed the more time I spent in your company. To the point I did not give any of that a thought when we were intimate together.”
Bea snorted. “I do not believe you.” It had been humiliating last night to realize Darius’s lovemaking had been so cold and calculated.
The same lovemaking which had caused her to fall in love with him.
Because Bea knew without a doubt she loved Darius. Still. Despite knowing his own motives toward her had been less than honorable.
He grasped both her hands in his. “Bea, you must believe me when I tell you—” He broke off as she wrenched free of his hold to move abruptly away from him.
“I do not have to believe a single word of the cold and heartless man I now know you to be.” Bea could feel the warmth of anger in her cheeks. “You came into my home.” She began to pace. “You deliberately set out to seduce me because you, and I am guessing your Sinner friends, suspected I was guilty of treason.”
“I was to prove you either innocent or guilty,” he confirmed tersely.
Her hands clenched at her sides. “And last night, you believed you had proven me guilty?”
“I accused. You admitted it,” Wolferton bit out grimly. “But now it turns out you are not guilty at all,” he added disgustedly.
No, Bea was not guilty of treason. No one could add that to her list of sins. Her one huge sin, she corrected heavily. She could be as angry and hurt as she liked toward Wolferton for his trickery, but the truth would not be changed. She was guilty.
But not of treason… “And how can you possibly know that?”
“Because you accepted the invitation to the Countess of Dunton’s ball, but in the end did not attend.”
Bea gave a dazed shake of her head. She really was too tired from crying and her sleepless night, too defeated and downtrodden from contemplating her own future, to be able to understand a word Wolferton was now saying to her.
Not that he looked any better than she did, she allowed grudgingly. He was still wearing the same clothes from last night, his eyes looked as if they had dark bruises beneath them, his cheeks were somewhat hollowed, and there was the shadow of a beard on his jaw where he had not shaved this morning.
“I had a cold that evening and decided to stay at home,” she dismissed distractedly. “Although I do not see how that should have convinced you of my innocence.”
“Because the guilty lady did attend the countess’s ball.” And Darius had never been so relieved in his life as when he read Stonewell’s letter explaining that Bea had not been present that evening after all, and so could not be the guilty lady they were looking for.
But it still left the puzzle as to what Bea was guilty of. Whatever it was, it could not be anything serious enough to warrant—
“I killed my husband.”