Page 6 of A Scandalous Bargain
“I know. Forgive me, but I’ve been listening to the two of you argue—well, mostly her—for some time now.”
One of his ink-dark brows rose. “This is not your first visit to my garden? To spy on Ramsgate?”
“No.” Beatrix ignored the question in his gaze. Someday, she’d explain. Probably. Or not. “Why do you think you’ll be blamed for this?” That wasn’t actually the question she wanted answered. “Why do you think it’s your fault?”
“Perhaps you are unaware of some critical facts. First, we despised each other. Second, she was having an affair and I knew it. Third, I recently learned, rather publicly, that she tricked me into this marriage.” He referred to the manipulation orchestrated by his wife and her brother that had driven Rockbourne to marry her five years ago and that had been made public the prior week. It was no wonder he was angry, nor could Beatrix blame him for feeling that way.
“Fourth, I provoked her tonight because…” He cut himself off, his lips pressing together until they turned white. “I have plenty of reasons to wish her dead, andmanypeople know it.”
Beatrix desperately wanted to know why he’d provoked her, but it was apparent he did not want to share that part. So she wouldn’t press. It didn’t matter anyway. “Provocation or not, this wasn’t your fault.” She cocked her head to the side, studying this man she didn’t know at all but felt a need to protect. “Did you hope she would fall?”
His brow furrowed, forming vertical lines that made the number eleven. “That was not my intent.”
She sensed there would be more, but he was silent. “Well, if she despised you and was having an affair, I’d argue she’d hopedyouwould fall. Perhapsshewas trying to kill you so she could marry her lover.”
“No.” He said the word with cold finality. The ice in his eyes made her shiver.
Rockbourne took a step toward her. “She wouldn’t ever do that, and you won’t suggest it. Is that clear?”
“If you can prove she wanted to kill you—and I think you probably could—why not do so to vindicate yourself?”
“Because I won’t, and that’s the end of it.” His voice was soft, but dark with warning.
Beatrix wanted to debate him, but realized that would be pointless. He was absolutely set in his decision. Rather dauntingly so, in fact. “None of that signifies since it was an accident.”
Wasn’t it? Having watched what happened, she’d been completely sure. Still, his behavior was odd.
“What will you do now?” she asked.
Rockbourne stared at his wife a moment, then briefly clasped his hand over his mouth and chin. Lowering it, he said, “I’ll summon the household. Except for my daughter.” His face turned ashen. “What am I going to tell her? She’s only three. Almost four.”
“Tell her you love her and that you’ll always be there for her.” Beatrix was surprised to feel a tightness in her throat.
His gaze connected with hers, their gray depths simmering with anguish. “You never answered my question. What are you doing here, with me?”
“Helping, I hope.” She gave him a tentative smile.
“You were spying on Ramsgate, and your brother-in-law is a Bow Street Runner. Why are you doing the former, and who is your sister?”
“My sister is Lady Gresham, and I’m not spying on Ramsgate. I’m just…watching him.”
“I don’t know that he’s in the market for a new duchess. His son, however, is in search of a wife. You’d do better to set your sights on him. He’s at least near your age. Ramsgate could be your father.”
Beatrix couldn’t hold in the sharp laugh that leapt from her mouth.
A sound from the house drew them both to turn.
Rockbourne looked to Beatrix. “That could be my butler or someone else. You have to go.”
“Yes.” Beatrix started to turn toward the back corner of the garden where she’d stolen in through the gate. Impulsively, she spun about. Standing on her toes, she brushed a kiss against his jaw—it was as high as she could reach. “Good luck.”
She rushed through the garden and out the gate. Bringing the hat down lower on her head, she hurried toward home.
* * *
Thomas Devereaux, Viscount Rockbourne, had endured many sleepless nights in his five-year marriage, largely due to his wife’s anger, but last night had been the worst. Followed by the hardest morning of his life as he’d explained to his daughter that her mother was gone. At her young age, she didn’t really understand, as evidenced when she’d asked where Mama was just a few hours later.
The servants had been shocked to see their mistress sprawled on the cobblestones in the back garden, particularly her maid. Spicer had fallen into a fit of sobbing, and had required brandy to calm herself. She was currently sleeping, which was for the best.
