A footstep. Beatrice rose in a single movement, hand at her neck, body coiled.
He emerged from the gloom. Edward—coat unbuttoned, scarf absent, hair windblown, jaw set in a determined expression. He saw her, hesitated, then closed the distance with three long strides.
“Beatrice,” he began, voice rough. “I—”
She cut him off with a raised hand. “You’re late.”
He looked at her and something in his gaze wavered. “I know.”
She refused to grant him the dignity of a reply. Instead, she turned away, staring at the grave and silently willing him toleave. He lingered behind her, not touching, barely breathing, but close enough that she could feel the heat of him.
“I returned home and found you gone,” he said.
“Because you were late.” The words were clipped.
“I was delayed. I—”
She spun to face him. “I’ve had enough of this, Edward. I’m tired.”
Edward’s lips thinned. “I’m trying, Beatrice. God knows, I’m trying—”
She laughed in his face. “Trying what? To be a husband? Because I see no effort on your behalf.”
He stepped forward, close enough she had to crane her neck to look at him properly.
“What do you want from me?”
She flinched as if struck, then straightened. “I want—” She faltered, caught off-guard by the rawness of her own voice. “I want honesty. I want to know where you go, and why you lie, and why—” She swallowed. “If there is another, I must know.”
Edward’s hands were balled at his sides. “You do not trust me.”
“How can I? Trust must be built but we have not built anything.”
“I want to build something, Beatrice. I do.”
“It’s too late.”
Any determination in his gaze vanished. “What do you mean?” His gaze narrowed. “There’s another?”
“No.” She almost laughed at the hypocrisy of his jealousy. “No, there is not. But I will not endure this any longer. I think perhaps we should do as our parents and grandparents did. We stay married in name only. Live separate lives. I should imagine that will please you anyway.”
“Please me?” He took her arms in his hands. “Please me to lose you? Like hell it would please me.”
She blinked at the coarseness of the declaration and the sensation of being so close to him.
“Then why do you behave so? Why take another woman—”
“There is no other woman.”
“You lie.”
Edward stared at her, his jaw working. Finally, he eased his grip and ran a hand through his hair. “I do.”
Beatrice almost sagged with relief. She was not addled in the mind.
“Who is she?”
“My half-sister.”
