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Though Beatrice’s carriage ride home was short—Violet’s townhouse was also in Mayfair—she spent it in contemplation. Not only had she stumbled and possibly hurt her friend by speaking out of turn about marriage, she knew she had to tell William about her condition.
Tomorrow. Tell him tomorrow and savor one more night with him…
She rushed up the stairs to their stately townhouse, which sat on prestigious Berkeley Square. She would have enough time to dress for supper before William returned within the hour after his day at the House of Lords. As soon as she crossed the threshold and saw Mrs. Brown’s cold smile, however, she knew something was amiss.
“I’m afraid you arrived home so late, my lady, you missed his lordship’s return.”
Blast! I missed the kiss!Swallowing her disappointment, she showed no reaction except a nod, and asked where she could find her husband.
“He’s terribly occupied in his study, my lady.”
Undeterred, Beatrice went straight there and knocked. When no answer came, she paused, her palm on the door, sensing not only that William was within, but a great deal more than a door separated them.
When it swung in on its hinges, he inclined his head straight away, obscuring his eyes. “Good afternoon, Lady Candleton.”
His voice lacked the warmth to which she had become accustomed. When he raised his head, gone was the special light in his spring-green eyes. In the days after their wedding, he had shared that until his father’s death when William was fifteen, his parents had always used their formal titles between them, and he was glad it would be different in his own marriage.
“Good afternoon,” she replied quietly. “I regret not being here to welcome you home, my lord. I was visiting Clara and thought you were due to return later.”
He stepped back to admit her. “I was. I returned early.”
“How did Lord Palmerston receive you?”
Closing the door behind her, he stood impassively. “He didn’t.”
She observed him closely, wondering whether that was responsible for his mood. After all, he had waited over a month for the appointment. Throughout breakfast this morning, she and William had strategized. “Why ever not?”
“Have you sought me out to discuss Britain’s foreign policy?”
Trying not to wince, she shook her head. “I came to seeyou. William. What is—”
“Do you know the night I decided for certain I was going to marry you?”
At first, his mention of that magical evening sent arrows of relief through her, but when his face remained cold she wondered, yet again, what was happening. “You shall have to tell me if it’s the same nightIdecided to marryyou.” He turned his head, as if doubting his hearing, and she gave him a shy smile. “The ball.”
He spoke after a curt nod. “I believed myself fortunate beyond measure that night. It wasn’t the dance. It was our conversation after,” he whispered.
Her smile turned bittersweet. Of course it hadn’t been the dance. For all her efforts during her lessons, her skills on the glossy parquet dance floor were mediocre, like nearly everything else about her. But she had known the utter honesty she had dared to share with the Marquess had resonated with him, and she, too, had felt fortunate beyond measure.
He had bowed after the dance, then offered his arm to conduct her to the refreshment room. Somewhere along the way, they paused, and though there was no true privacy, they stopped and shared a few stolen moments in a sea of other guests.
“I’m imagining the Candleton rubies around your neck,” he had murmured intimately, just barely audible over the din of the surrounding crowd.
She shook her head slowly. “Jewels are not the riches I would seek by marrying you. Being a great beauty, bejeweled or no, is not what I have to offer, either.”
“What do you seek? What do you offer?”
Though she had flushed nearly as red as the gemstones of which he had just spoken, she revealed her true heart, knowing she could never stand to accept his suit further if he would not embrace what followed. “What I seek and what I offer are one in the same. I would give you not merely heirs, Lord Candleton, but children. A family.”
Remembering her words—and his approval in return—she smiled despite the current tension. “I hoped that was why you proposed not long after.”
Her soft words not only fell flat; anger tinged his expression.
“Pray tell, my lady,” he bit out. “Why was it from our housekeeper’s lips and not my wife’s that I learned I’m to be a father?”
Of course!She groaned inwardly.That Mrs. Brown!But quickly on the heels of those thoughts came the inevitable reckoning. It was only herself she had to blame; she who had waited so long to share this news the housekeeper had seen fit to make her move. It was she whose heart was so open to sin of late that she had held back the truth from her husband.
Her eyes closed, and she indulged a moment of self-pity. This was not the way she had envisioned this intimate moment with William—tinged with anger and disappointment. It should have happened over candlelight and been filled with quiet delight.
