Page 28 of Her Tiger of a Duke
“Thank you,” Beatrice replied kindly. “You seem rather shy.”
“She has always been this way,” her mother explained, “not that you would know it if you were me or her father. She will talk and talk until she leaves our home, and then she quietens.”
“I was the very same,” Beatrice nodded, her eyes not leaving the girl. “Do not worry. I know it is daunting to speak, but there will be people who wish to listen. It also gives you the chance to make conversation, and then you can listen to them in return. I have found that is the best way to make friends.”
The little girl looked at her with wide eyes, clearly unable to comprehend why such an important lady was taking the time to speak with her, but also that someone so important had struggled like she was.
Beatrice rose to her feet again, and the mother mouthed her gratitude so that her daughter did not hear. It was only a small gesture, but Beatrice hoped that it would make a difference. She handed them a basket, and they went on their way.
“I hope that you see it for yourself, now,” Owen said beside her. “You know how to be, and so you have nothing to worry about.”
Beatrice watched as the mother and daughter disappeared, relieved that he had been right all along. The afternoon continued, and once they handed out the gifts they began walking through the village. It was warm, and the park there had a long river running through it, and so they decided to spend some time walking there.
Beatrice wanted to wander along the water’s edge, but Owen never suggested it. Instead, they kept to the path, which was a considerable distance away. They looked on as children played in the water, their mothers and fathers close by.
“It is most unnerving,” he said as they walked.
“The children playing? I think it rather lovely. I envy them, for the water must feel delightful.”
“But the danger it presents is incredible. What if they cannot swim?”
“One would assume that they can all swim, else they would not be in the water. Just as you told me not to worry, you must do the same. They’re all being taken care of, too, and so nothing bad will happen to them.”
“That is always the assumption, yes,” he said darkly. “And yet…”
It was an awful thought, but Beatrice tried not to pay it any mind. Owen was a protective man, and he likely thought of all dangers. If anything, she liked that he was so concerned about the safety of children, for he would be a father one day and she much preferred that he was overly afraid than one who did not care at all.
“Do you enjoy walking?” she asked, trying to change the subject.
“I do. It helps me to think, and it gives me time alone.”
“Unless you are walking alongside your wife.”
“In which case, it gives me time to talk. Either way, it is pleasant.”
“And what about riding?” she asked, and he stiffened.
“I avoid it whenever I can. It is not something that I enjoy anymore.”
“Ah, because of the accidents?”
He looked at her sharply, and for the briefest of moments a fear washed over her. She could not help but feel as though she had said something very wrong.
“The ones that I read about,” she reminded him. “In those papers? The string of illnesses and accidents that took place here.”
“Ah, yes, of course. Well, that certainly does not help. Horses can be dangerous if you do not ride them correctly, and even if you do there is a chance that something will scare them, and then it does not matter how careful you are.”
“Do you always consider everything bad that might happen?” she asked. “I am surprised that you were not afraid of the ovens when we made those biscuits.”
“I like to be safe. I hardly go beyond the village for that reason. I do not like the dangers that lurk wherever you go, and the further from home you are, the worse off you are.”
“Is that why I never saw you in London before you turned up as Lady Helena’s bridegroom?”
They walked on in silence for a while, Beatrice wondering if she had asked too much again before he cleared his throat.
“I hate London most of all,” he said at last. “It is busy, which means it is more likely to cross someone with bad intentions.”
There was such paranoia in him that Beatrice wondered if he had always been that way, or if something truly awful had happened in front of him that had changed him completely. It was so intrinsic to everything he did, and she pitied him, for that was no way to live.
