Page 55 of The Desire of a Duchess
The gift was a promise of sorts. A decision made. The future would be fraught with challenges. Society must be faced. But Ellis didn’t intend to hide his feelings for Beatrice Howard from the world. He’d already taken the precaution of writing for reinforcements.
Beatrice plucked the package out of his hand, carefully untying the ribbon, which she placed on the table holding her books. “It is never a good thing, my lord, to run out of ribbon.”
“I see.” His heart swelled fuller than it had ever been. She might never be comfortable wearing her hair up or allowing others to see her scars. The actions of Castlemare and the Foxwoods after her accident had given Beatrice a skewed view of her appearance. But he didn’t care.
Pulling aside the silk, her eyes widened as she held up the piece of carved wood. Probably wondering what the devil he’d made her.
“You carved me a bee.” Beatrice smiled up at him with such joy, one would think he’d presented her with diamonds or gold.
“I did, Your Grace.” The carving wasn’t exceptional, but you could clearly make out the wings. The tiny eyes. Honestly, it resembled a great many other insects. He was relieved Beatrice saw a bee. The carving, much like the kiss he’d bestowed on her, contained much of his heart.
Standing on tiptoe, Beatrice pressed a soft kiss to his mouth. “Is this bribery for the roasted chicken?”
Ellis’s hand trailed down her ruined cheek, the pad of his thumb caressing the marks he’d come to love. “I am glad you are pleased. More so that you see my vision.”
Beatrice walked over to the mantel, placing the bee in a prominent position facing the chair Ellis knew to be her favorite. “Mrs. Lovington has already set another place at the table, to no great surprise, but I suppose you deserve potatoes. I will ensure you receive them. Give me a moment.” She waved and slid out the door on her way to consult with Mrs. Lovington.
Ellis moved to the sideboard and poured a brandy for Beatrice, setting it on the table between the two overstuffed chairs, making sure Beatrice’s glass would be in easy reach once she was seated. A stack of books was piled atop the table.
His eyes fell on the green leatherbound notebook, stuck halfway through the haphazard mountain of essays, novels, and Keats.
Beatrice’s ledger.
A ribbon, bright red, had been inserted inside as a bookmark. Curious, Ellis flicked open the cover, surprised to see nothing more than a list of names, some crossed off.
Miss Elkins. Random gossip and malicious behavior.
Ellis recalled Miss Elkins. She was the girl he’d danced with instead of Beatrice at that long ago ball. Because Beatrice had needed a lesson in humility.
I never knew her first name until after she died, which is, frankly, horrid. The small cornerstone repaired at Chiddon’s church will read Elizabeth Elkins Summerstone and that of the child who died with her. I’ve had a rose bush planted in the vicar’s garden in her memory.
A line had been drawn through the entire paragraph as a sign of completion.
Mr. Howard Kilpatrick. Footman. Relieved of his position for stepping on the hem of my new gown and causing a tear. Located in London along with his younger brother. A small lump sum along with the offer of employment as butler at Lord Derby’s. Wrote brilliant recommendation.
The list went on for three more pages, every entry with notes detailing what wrong each person had suffered at Beatrice’s hands.
Miss Rosalind Richardson, now Lady Torrington. Unkind remarks about her figure. Persuaded her to give me the location of Lady Andromeda’s rooms, which I then used for malicious purposes.
Milhenney. Not of Lady Torrington’s caliber, but it is Chiddon. No one is buying elaborate cakes here.
The baker Beatrice had recently brought to town was Milhenney. Blythe knew Rosalind and her skill at pastries. He had often wondered how Beatrice had ferreted out Andromeda Barrington’s penchant for playing modiste. Madame Dupree’s shop had nearly been shut down. The scandal had been wielded against the entire Barrington family, along with Beatrice’s continued assertion that Granby had ruined Andromeda at the house party. It hadn’t stopped until Ellis had advised Granby to assuage Beatrice’s wounded pride.
He looked back down at the page.
Lady Andromeda Barrington, now Duchess of Granby. Vile, unwarranted gossip which I cultivated for years. Excessive ruination of her reputation after house party. Kept her from practicing a talent which gave her joy. Inexcusable, especially because she loved Granby, and I never would. Dressmaker to be brought to Chiddon. Possibly a heartfelt letter of apology. I am not brave enough to do more.
Ellis was holding Beatrice’s atonements. Recompense for all the wrongs that the other, vain,terribleversion of herself had committed. Chiddon was penance of sorts, as much as it was her sanctuary. She could have wallowed in self-pity and bitterness at what the fates had dealt her, but she hadn’t. Instead, Beatrice had used it as a reason to help others. The riverbed had nearly taken her life, but it had returned to Beatrice asoul.
“It makes for interesting reading, does it not?” Beatrice said from the door, hands clasped before her. The cobalt of her eyes wavered, both angry but also afraid. “I didn’t mean for you to ever see it, my lord. Rather horrifying, is it not? Reading the awful marks of my character laid out in perfect penmanship. What you must think of me. I’m much more terrible than you could ever have guessed.”
“That isn’t what I think at all. Come sit, Bea.” Ellis held out his hand, wanting nothing more than to wrap his arms around Beatrice and never let her go.
I won’t ever let go.
“I promised myself as I lay in that riverbed, looking into Thomas’s sightless eyes”—her voice grew thick with emotion—“that no one’s life would ever be ruined by my hand again. I made a vow that the creature who lay bleeding in that riverbed wouldnotsurvive. I must try to repair that which is broken. It is the only way to set things right. Balance the ledger, so to speak.”
Ellis thought of the church and vicarage. The buildings standing empty in Chiddon which Beatrice was slowly filling back up with bakers, cheese mongers, and apothecaries. Using her influence to promote Gates’s ale. Spreading good to balance out the bad.
