Page 15 of A Scandalous Bargain
“I can see my counsel is not needed in this area.” She lifted her hands in surrender. “You’ll let me know if I can help in any way?”
“Yes.” Thomas thought of the other woman who’d given him aid. Miss Whitford hadn’t returned since Monday evening. And he’d looked for her every night.
“Will you tell me your plans?” Aunt Charity asked.
“As soon as I have some.” For now he would do what he’d always done—focus on his daughter and his responsibilities as viscount. Again, he thought of Miss Whitford.
He couldn’t imagine how she could be part of his plans.
“Thomas.” Aunt Charity exhaled his name, and though she said nothing else, the word was both full of question and rife with concern. “Forgive me, but I worry about you.” She always had. “I can’t tell how you feel about all this. Are you sad? Relieved? Concealing your joy?” She waved her hand. “Forget I said the last. Of course you aren’t happy.”
No, but if he were honest with himself, hewasrelieved. He no longer had to worry about protecting Regan from her mother’s rages. And he no longer had to suffer them himself.
“No matter how awful Thea was, she didn’t deserve to die,” he said softly. “It’s…a terrible situation. I honestly don’t know how I’m supposed to feel.” So he was choosing to feel nothing. It wasn’t difficult. Aside from his daughter, he’d learned to bury all emotion over the past five years. Even that hadn’t been hard, because he’d first done it at the age of ten when his mother had died.
Perhaps he was meant to direct all his feelings toward Regan. No, not all of them, just the good ones. The rest he buried. When he didn’t, bad things happened, such as his wife dying.
“You’ll stay for dinner, I hope? Regan will want to see you, and she is napping at present.”
“Yes, of course. Is there correspondence I can help with in the meantime?”
“Absolutely.” He smiled at her. “Nowthatfills me with relief.”
She smiled widely in return. “There’s my boy. Just tell me what you need.”
“You can use the desk there.” He gestured to the writing desk in the corner near the front window. “There are many notes of condolence, but also some social invitations that arrived either before she died or before her death was known. I suppose you should respond to those, unless people will assume I won’t be coming.”
“I’ll respond. As I said, no one will fault you for going out, not when you’re seen as needing a wife. They may, in fact, expect you to come.”
Thomas rose. “I’ll fetch everything and bring it here.”
She nodded, and he turned to go. “Oh, I did take care of your request regarding Almack’s. And I hope you’ll tell me who Miss Whitford and Lady Gresham are to you.”
“Thank you.” Thomas didn’t look back at her before taking off to his study.
As he gathered the correspondence, one of the missives caught his eye. It was an invitation to a ball to celebrate the engagement of Mr. Henry Sheffield and Lady Gresham. Thomas read the details. It was amasquerade.
His aunt’s words flooded his mind. Hecouldgo…
He set the invitation aside and took the rest to Aunt Charity.
* * *
There was a dampness in the air that presaged rain. Beatrix glanced up at the night sky and silently begged it to remain dry. Just for an hour or so. Perhaps a trifle longer.
She probably should not have ventured out, but she hadn’t been able to resist. Now that she was in possession of a voucher to Almack’s as well as a few prestigious invitations to Society events over the next fortnight, she knew the time when she would come face-to-face with her father was nigh. And then she could stop spying on him from Rockbourne’s garden.
Except that would mean she would stop going to Rockbourne’s garden. She’d decided she rather liked going there. More accurately, she liked going to see Rockbourne.
But tonight was to see her father. Or so she told herself as she stole through the gate into the garden.
She hurried along the crushed gravel path that bisected the beds in the middle and made her way to the tree. First, she glanced toward the house, as she’d done since the first night she’d come. She had to make sure no one from Rockbourne’s house saw her.
Standing on the balcony, his gaze trained directly on her, was Rockbourne. As on the other night, he wasn’t wearing a coat. Unlike then, he still wore his cravat. Pity, she’d rather enjoyed ogling that narrow triangle of his chest.
With a giddy rush, Beatrix hastened to the trellis and quickly climbed up to the balcony. He met her at the railing, offering his hand to help her over.
“How gallant,” she said, grinning as she put her fingers in his. She stepped on the railing, and he put his other hand on her waist as he helped her onto the balcony. Instinctively, she grasped his shoulder.
