Page 23 of Fair as a Star

“How are you?” he asked. “How are you feeling?”

Folding her hands in her lap, Beryl recalled herself to the reason she’d come. “Mortified,” she said frankly.

The concern in his eyes deepened. He leaned forward in his chair. “About what?”

“Sharing all of those things with you. Those private things. I shouldn’t have done so.” Her words tumbled over each other in a rush. She made an effort to bring her speech back to normal. “I hope that you’ll forget we ever spoke on the subject.”

Understanding registered on his face. “You regret talking to me about it.”

“Very much. I don’t know why I went on as I did. It was badly done of me. Afterward, I know you must have been shocked at my behavior.”

He continued to look at her, frowning slightly. A studying look, as if he was keen to read her. To learn her. “You did nothing wrong.”

She tugged at the finger of her glove. A small, agitated movement. She had to remind herself to be still.

“I was honored that you confided in me,” he said. “My only regret is that I didn’t know of your burden sooner.”

“How could you?”

“By listening to you. By paying proper attention. I thought…” He stopped himself. “It doesn’t matter what I thought. The fact is, I feel as though I’ve failed you. But I mean to make it right. To be here for you as much as I’m able, even if all I can do is listen.”

“That’s very generous of you, but—”

“You must want someone to talk to on occasion,” he said. “Someone to whom you can speak plainly.”

Beryl felt a stab of yearning. How lovely it would be to have someone to confide in. Someone like Mark Rivenhall. And yet…

She couldn’t imagine ever doing so again. Having done so once was quite enough. It had been selfish and self-indulgent. Not at all the type of thing she should be making a habit of.

“You’re mistaken,” she said. “I don’t usually indulge myself in that way.”

“Perhaps you should. If not to me, then…” He paused for several seconds, seeming to come to a decision. “Have you considered talking to Henry?”

Her mouth nearly fell open. “You haven’t told him?”

“No, no. I would never violate your confidence. But the two of you are soon to be married. You might consider—”

“No.” She was adamant. “I don’t want Henry to know. He’d think—” That she was being stupid and ungrateful, that’s what he’d think. That she was indulging a desire for feminine dramatics, something for which he had no patience at all.

But she couldn’t say such things. Not to Henry’s brother of all people.

“Henry wouldn’t understand,” she said instead.

“Probably not.” Mark’s brow furrowed. “You don’t feel you can talk to your mother? Or to your sister?”

She’d tried to talk to her mother. Had been compelled to on occasion, even against her will. After the incident with the sleeping powder, there hadn’t been any choice. But though she loved Beryl absolutely, Mama couldn’t tolerate defects. It was the same as with her roses. She required them to be beautiful, pleasing, and perfect. Anything less was quickly cut away and disposed of. Out of sight and out of mind.

As for Winnifred, she was too young to understand. Too caught up in her own affairs. She wasn’t even aware of the true reason Beryl had gone away last year. No one had wanted to burden her with the details. The most she knew was that Beryl had been blue-deviled, and that Aunt Hortensia had suggested a pleasure trip to boost her spirits.

Blue-deviled. As if it were a condition of brief duration, and not an affliction that had plagued Beryl for most of her life.

“There’s no one. You’re the first person I’ve ever said any of those things to.” She exhaled. “I wish I hadn’t said them.”

His expression softened. “I’m glad you did. And I hope you’ll see fit to confide in me again. But I understand if you’d rather not share your feelings with anyone.” He gave her a fleeting smile. “I had an idea about that, actually.” Opening the drawer of his desk, he withdrew a small book bound in dark green cloth. “I bought this for you at Malvern’s Emporium.”

“For me?” She took it from his outstretched hand. “Thank you, but—”

“I was going to stop by the Grange this evening and give it to you.”