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“That bad?” he asked quietly, his voice tinged with guilt.
She knew he wasn’t asking about her mood in connection with the weather, but she hesitated, nonetheless, in responding directly. She respected the Dowager Marchioness’s position, even if not the woman herself, and she certainly did not wish to challenge his loyalties.
“I…have been without a mother for a number of years since my own passed away. Of course it’s an adjustment to receive this maternal attention. I’m trying, William.”
He paused in the cavernous black-and-white tiled corridor lined with gilt-framed paintings. Turning to face him, Bea would have stepped back, making room for her new girth, now being six months gone. But William gently held her arm, keeping her close, and she, in turn, allowed herself to press gently into him.
His look of understanding and appreciation nearly melted her. If he saw her as the ungainly cow his mother did, he still valuedsomethingabout her. He let go of her arm, but only so he could place his hand against their growing child with one hand, and gently lift her chin with the other.
“I would like to believe my mother is trying in her own way, but maternal attention isn’t in her repertoire.” He examined her expression. “When I’m not present, how does she behave toward you?”
Eyes clouding, Bea couldn’t help but think back to the disparaging and snide arrows shot her way over the weeks.
“I see. Damn,” he said quietly, then his eyes flared. “I beg your pardon, my lady.” His hand caressed over the satin brocade skirts draping over her abdomen. “I wish I’d asked before. Or that you’d come to me before.”
“You do? With the new election taking place after Parliament’s dissolution, I didn’t want to distress you further. I know these times have been challenging for you.”
“Because I take my duties seriously, yes, they have been. So, too, am I devoted toyou, Beatrice. You’re my wife and expecting my child, and I’ll see you content. I won’t allow mistreatment of you, even—especially—at the hands of my mother.”
Covering his hand with hers, she blinked away tears. “When can we return to London?”
He huffed out a laugh. “I wish we could leave tomorrow. But I still have obligations here. I’m going through the ledgers and meeting with the managers at the fastest pace I can. Whether we stay one more night or the ten more we anticipated, I’ll be setting matters straight with my mother.”
She bit her lip and considered the consequences. “She tries to hide her attacks, William. If you say anything to her, it may only make it worse. Embolden her further when it’s only she and I.”
“If it comes to that, she’ll be sent to another estate or back to Italy on one of her ‘adventures.’ I won’t stand for your mistreatment. You meant what you said that night of the ball, didn’t you? It’s afamilywe’re to have, not just heirs?” He continued after her nod, “I meant it, too.”
After glancing behind him at the doorway to the drawing room with a look of disapproval, he took her arm again, and they resumed their inside promenade. Bea felt warmed to the core by his reassurances, and she was ready to change the subject.
Once they placed more distance between themselves and his mother, however, William returned to the topic of his parents. “These are all paintings of ancestors who died before I was born. You were, as ever, circumspect when we arrived and I gave you a tour—refraining from asking after my own father. Well, his portrait is here someplace, in the attic or some such. Unless, of course, mother had it destroyed.”
Shock froze Bea in her steps, though William only smiled sweetly at her naïveté. “Destroyed? Why ever would she do that?”
He cocked his head. “You’ve said your own parents lived apart most of their marriage. Perhaps you can appreciate the animosity behind such an arrangement?”
She frowned, wondering. She had been so young when her father died, most of what she knew about the marriage was second-hand from servants or her sister. Her mother had spoken little of her own marriage. “They were not…close.” Staring sightlessly at a nearby marble bust, she remembered her sister’s revelation from a few years earlier—speculation about Bea’s parentage. Born well after her siblings and long into a decade-long estrangement of her parents, her sister believed Bea was the product of an illicit liaison, not a short-lived reunion between her Earl and Countess parents.
She scarcely had any memory of the man she thought of as her father, who died when she was five. In truth, she knew little curiosity about who could have been her true progenitor. With her siblings long departed from the family home by the time she was growing up, and her mother a quiet and distant figure, she had grown up lonely. As difficult as her mother’s death was, moving to London to reside with her sister Harriet had been a boon. Harriet paid her little mind, but at least she was diverted by the myriad of social and musical events life in town offered.
“In the case of my parents,” William said, “‘not close’ is at once accurate and incomplete. I have but a handful of memories of my parents under the same roof, and it always brought discomfort for anyone within earshot.” He shook his head. “I won’t be like him. Not as a husband and father, anyway. And you are not like my mother.”
Inhaling, Bea reminded herself he meant that as a compliment, but his mother’s words echoed through her mind.
My son is always jealous of the attention paid to me by gentlemen wherever I go. Of course he selected you, dear. So plain, he hasn’t any worry of you attracting the eyes of his friends or foes.
“What am I like to you?” Bea asked quietly, half hating how small her voice sounded, half proud she had dared to ask.
His smile stole her breath, transforming his already handsome face with beguiling affection. His eyes roamed her face with unmistakable appreciation, and she allowed herself to believe, however foolishly, that while she couldn’t compare to a woman like his mother, William saw her as lovely.
“You are everything I could wish for, Bea. Your warmth and goodwill toward others are credits to your character. Even here, with my mother’s sharp tongue lashing at you, you decline the opportunity to repay her in kind. There hasn’t been a time when you listen to my draft remarks or letters and fail to provide valuable insight. You are clever. Modest.” His gaze dropped to her lips. “Forgive my coarseness in speaking of your person, but you are most pleasing in that regard as well.”
Most pleasing!Bea’s neck thrummed with each fast heartbeat, and her cheeks burned.
“Then we are well-matched, my lord, for I find you most pleasing as well.” Nearly lightheaded from her daring, she threw caution to the wind and spoke further. “Though we had not discussed the details, it was apparent that our wishes for a family were similarly motivated. I do not wish my children to grow up as I did. Our domestic life is already markedly different from any I’ve known. I’m most pleased, William.”
They resumed their steps, but not before Bea saw the profound relief and approval on William’s face at her words.
“You would have heard my father died in a carriage accident,” he said after a time.
