Page 19 of A Scandalous Bargain
Beatrix wished she could squeeze herself next to him on the settee, but she didn’t dare. “Why?”
Blowing out a breath, he set his wineglass down on the table. “Guilt?”
She leaned forward. “I’ve told you it wasn’t your fault.”
“But I should feel sad, shouldn’t I?”
“You must feel however you feel.” She nearly told him that her sister sometimes struggled with allowing herself to feel, but to reveal that would encourage a great many questions she couldn’t answer. It was bad enough he knew she was Ramsgate’s daughter. No one knew that save Selina, Harry, and Rafe.
“I don’t know if I can,” he whispered. His gaze dropped to the floor, where he stared for a moment before shaking his head briskly and reaching for his wine once more. “Do you know when you’ll come next?”
It was an abrupt change of topic, but Beatrix could understand why. He may not be grieving his wife in the normal sense, but his life had changed.
“I don’t,” Beatrix responded. “There are a great many events between now and Selina’s wedding.”
“I want to hear how things go at Almack’s.” The edge of his mouth ticked up. “I can’t ask you to visit after the ball—it will be far too late. In fact, I should see you home tonight. I can’t believe I haven’t before.” He looked aghast.
“You do not have to see me home. I’m quite capable of looking after myself.”
“What if you’re set upon by a footpad?”
She waggled her brows at him. “What ifI’ma footpad?”
There was a beat before he laughed. “I’d feel better if you’d let me see you home.”
“No. You need to take care of Regan.” She finished the rest of her wine. It was time to go. “I really am very capable.” She rose.
He quickly stood and closed most of the gap between them. “Of protecting yourself from footpads? How can that be?”
“There’s a great deal you don’t know about me, Rockbourne.” Such as the fact that shehadbeen a footpad when needs had become dire.
“Perhaps someday I’ll learn,” he said softly.
A shiver danced across Beatrix’s shoulders. She wanted to tell him she kept a small pistol in her pocket and that she knew how to use it. She longed to show him how she could outrun nearly any man.
Instead, she turned and went to the desk. Sweeping up her hat, she smashed it over her hair, which she’d piled tightly to the top of her head.
He beat her to the door and held it open for her. She went out onto the balcony and was slightly disappointed to find it hadn’t started raining. If it had, she could have allowed him to see her home.
On the balcony, she abruptly turned to face him. “I shouldn’t visit again. We’ve established it isn’t proper.”
“But we seem to enjoy it anyway. What’s more, you are now friends with my daughter.”
Damn, he was right. “I suppose that’s true. I wouldn’t want to disappoint her.”
“And what of me?”
“My lord?” A distressed female voice carried out to the balcony to the sitting room.
Rockbourne’s eyes widened. “That’s Miss Addy.”
Beatrix raced for the trellis and descended quickly. Five or so feet from the ground, she jumped and hurried through the garden, taking care to stay in the shadows. When she reached the corner, she looked back at the house. The balcony was empty.
She let herself out through the gate and made her way to Duke Street. In the light of a lantern, she shook her wrist until the stick of wax slid into her palm.
It was a silly thing to have taken, but she hadn’t thought twice. In truth, she hadn’t thought at all. The stick had been there, next to her hat, and when she’d picked up the accessory, the wax had simply come along for the ride.
Being an inconsequential object, he likely wouldn’t even miss it, which was so much the better. Still, she should probably return it. On her next visit. That she really shouldn’t make.
The first raindrop hit her sleeve. Tucking the wax into her pocket, she dashed into the night.
