Page 51 of Her Tiger of a Duke
CHAPTER 21
Beatrice had always known who she was.
As a girl, she knew to keep out of trouble, which meant staying out of her father’s way. He was an angry man, and he always had been, which meant it was for the best that she did not bother him. Then again, it felt like her mere existence did that all on its own.
Her mother tried, however. She was the one person in the world on whom Beatrice could rely. She was invasive, and that only grew worse with time, but she was coming from a place of kindness.
And yet, Beatrice had always known that she was unwanted.
“I wish I were a boy,” she whispered as a maid braided her hair one morning. “Then I might be liked a little more.”
“That is nonsense,” the maid chirped. “We all like you very much.”
She was an older lady, older than either of her parents. Her grandmothers were to visit that day, which meant she had to be completely perfect and keep to herself until she was summoned. She did not like either grandmother, but the one on her father’s side was far more cruel.
“But my mother and father do not, nor do my grandmothers. They wanted a boy, I think, so that there was an heir.”
“Everybody wants an heir. It does not matter. If they wanted one so badly, they would have another child, and yet they have not, so they must be satisfied with you.”
Beatrice smiled, but she did not fully believe it.
When her relatives arrived, she hid in her room with some sweets she had made. They were simple, as she had one made them a few times, but they were good. She had left some for her family to try, though she knew it would have brought great shame upon her if they knew who had made them.
She pressed her ear to her door and listened, even though everytime she did it she felt unwell. They never had a good word to say, but she at least wanted to know what they disliked so greatly so that she could try to improve.
“When am I to look upon her?” her grandmother Elaine asked.
“Soon, Mother,” her father replied. “She is practicing the pianoforte, which you wanted her to do if you remember.”
“Of course, but not when you receive company. She should know better than that by now.”
“She is twelve,” her mother reminded her. “We do what we can with her, but you know how she is.”
Beatrice frowned. She was not supposed to be playing the pianoforte, nor was she supposed to join them yet. She had to wait until she was sent for, as had always been the case. She did not understand why her family was being dishonest, but of course she knew better than to question it.
“I was not addressing you,” her grandmother retorted. “I am more than capable of speaking to my son without some chit interrupting.”
“Mother, she is my wife.”
“Yes, and you never allow me to forget that.”
Beatrice backed away, not wanting to hear anything more. It comforted her slightly to know that her mother was as brazenly disliked as she was, but it was not enough to make her feel any better about it. Her mother, for all of her flaws, was everything a lady was expected to be. If even she was not enough, then Beatrice would not stand a chance.
She read her book until she was summoned, and arrived with a smile on her face.
“Ah, there she is,” her grandmother said sternly. “And how was you etiquette lesson?”
“It was pianoforte this time, Grandmother,” she explained, pleased with herself for eavesdropping.
“Yes, well, see to it that you are with us all next time. It will not do to keep your guests waiting when you are a lady. Come, let me look at you.”
She stepped closer, greatly fearing what was to come as she knew it all too well. Her grandmother pulled out a measuring tape, and put it around her waist, tutting as she did so.
“I thought you said she was thinner,” she said sternly.
“We did,” her mother replied, only to fall silent.
“She ought to have a lady’s waist by now. All of the ladies in my family did.”
