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Chapter Four
With a protective hand over her expanding midriff, Beatrice watched helplessly through the window as rain pummeled the pansies out on the terrace. What had started as a refreshing mist over Candleton Hall had become a pounding downpour. The tender purple and yellow blooms, who earlier had turned their faces skyward and welcomed the drink, now lay battered in their vast pedestal planter.
The same rain that was drowning her favorite flowers was trapping Beatrice inside. Ordinarily, she would be all too delighted to lose herself in a novel, or to pass the time at the piano, or to make progress with her embroidery…
But there was justsomethingawkward and wrong in this house.
After the near catastrophe of keeping her condition secret, her new marriage had seemed to thrive. William enjoyed her attentions, and she his; removing to Candleton Hall had promised more time together, away from the bustle of London and the tensions that William’s work brought to him.
I was as foolish as you poor pansies, she thought, placing a hand on the rain-splattered windowpane.
“Thereyou are,” said the Dowager Marchioness behind her. “Longing for a turn about the gardens, are you?”
Despite the innocuous words her mother-in-law had strung together, unease gripped Beatrice as she turned around. These few weeks residing together had revealed that she could not trust appearances where Sabrina Dalfour was concerned, and her hopes of a warm and close relationship with the woman were dashed. Optimistic but no fool, Beatrice had quickly discerned that the woman had some hidden aim.
“I do enjoy fresh air,” Bea replied blandly. Imagining a sunny day, she smiled. “No matter. Perhaps we’ll fare better tomorrow.”
When Lady Sabrina’s gaze swept over her, Bea nearly held her breath. With William absent—he had all but barricaded himself in his study to review the estate ledgers and livestock operations—his mother was more likely to produce a barb.
“I’m relieved to hear you won’t be going out in this weather”—the woman’s eyes paused on Bea’s stomach—“in your condition. It’s too slippery, and since the wedding, you’ve become positively ungainly.”
That wasn’t so bad, Bea thought before turning her attention to an escape. Betraying her thoughts, her gaze strayed to the doorway.
With a cold laugh, Sabrina stroked along her own tiny waist. “My son is most fortunate, as I tell my many friends who ask. The past year has been difficult for the heifers on the estate, and the cowherds are at a loss about why. William should ask you to share your secrets with them. You have bred and fattened quickly after the marriage, haven’t you?”
Tilting her head, Bea observed the woman quietly. When the insults had first begun, days after their arrival, the hurt was so swift and surprising that she couldn’t veil her pain. Like a raven on carrion, the Dowager had devoured her reaction. Bea couldn’t—wouldn’t—respond to the woman in kind, nor did she understand the woman’s motivations, but she was adapting.
While Sabrina Dalfour was opportunistic and cunning, her physical appearance shared no likeness with the raven. She was but forty years of age and appeared even younger. As suspicious as many of her tales were, Bea had no doubt the woman had spoken truth when characterizing herself as the greatest beauty of the year during her come-out nearly twenty-five years earlier. Her honey-blonde hair was always intricately coiffed, and she moved her svelte form with the confidence and grace of a woman who believed her appearance was her greatest gift.
Staring into her green eyes, Bea was struck again by how remarkable it was that William and his mother shared the same exact shade, but to different effect. Sitting next to each other, the color was indistinguishable, and certainly, intelligence shone in both. But Lady Sabrina’s gaze was cold at best, calculating at worst. William’s, even while reserved, bore warmth and caring.
“Good afternoon,” her husband said, stepping into the room past his mother. Over a head taller than the dainty woman, he dipped his head to her, then faced Bea. “Forgive me if I’m interrupting.”
Though the Dowager smiled, her eyes were unaffected by the gesture. “Not at all.” After turning back to Bea, her eyes narrowed. “Whatever were we even discussing? I don’t recall.”
Shifting her own gaze to William, Bea smiled warmly. Not only was he moving closer to her, he had placed himself between her and Lady Sabrina. He had never complained about his mother, but she had a growing sense he was aware of the woman’s ways. Neither of his parents had spent much time in residence at Candleton, where William and his brother had grown up under the care of servants. Initially, she had assumed this accounted for the distant nature of his rapport with his mother, but she suspected there was more.
“We were discussing husbandry, I believe,” Bea said with a wider smile.
He chuckled. “I’ve run from the smoke directly into the flame! After hours spent bent over those ledgers, I sought you out to escape the subject. I shan’t interrupt, however. I always learn something from you, Beatrice. What exactly were you discussing?”
“How people can share similarities to animals, I believe,” she told her husband.
“Oh, look at Beatrice’s innocent eyes!” Lady Sabrina stepped closer. “Beautiful. The eyes of a doe. Or a cow.”
Bea merely nodded. “I have long had a fondness for creatures of many kinds, but I must admit, it does not extend to the entire animal kingdom. Snakes. I do not care for snakes.”
William offered his arm to her, his expression sincere. “I promise, my lady, to defend you against all of snakedom. With that in mind, would you accompany me on a constitutional?”
“Constitutional!” The Dowager Marchioness placed an elegant hand on her throat. “William! I know you’ve been pent up in your study, but really!”
“The study has windows,” he said readily, though his eyes never left Beatrice’s. “I’m aware of the rain. I meant around the house.” He smiled. “My ankle is healed, and I know you count on going out every day. I’m afraid I can’t offerthatto you, but will you stroll with me in the house? I’ll take you to every window with a garden view.”
“Perhaps it would be better for her to go and rest quietly,” his mother said insistently. “In light of her condition.”
With eyes only for her husband, Bea smiled and squeezed his arm affectionately, even as she replied to his mother. “Thank you for your kind concern, my lady, but I assure you a constitutional would be most welcome. Beneficial for my health, I daresay. Thank you, William. I accept.”
She couldn’t contain her sigh of relief when they made it out of the drawing room.
