AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Be wary. Don’t trust anyone. Talk to the servants in a general way. Ask them if they know anything about Lord Rafe’s troubles, or if anything out of the ordinary has happened recently.”
She nodded.
“I’ll protect you, Beatrice. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
As they’d hurt him. Wet rag stuffed into his mouth. Gagging, unable to breathe. Chained to the wall, the iron around his wrists chafing.
Two bowls of gruel per day. No privy. No sunlight.
“The memories plague you still,” she said softly.
He nodded, unable to speak, the phantom rag still choking him.
“Why don’t you take me back to Thornhill House with you?” she asked, mercifully changing the subject. “I’m so tired of society. I’ll never be a success. I have designs on your library—I hear you have one of the largest collections of books in the entire kingdom. I hope you’re protecting the library from mildew?”
“The collection is intact, but I don’t think Mama would be very happy if you abandoned her before the end of the Season.”
“She’ll live. I’m sure there’s a wing at Thornhill you could dedicate to your eccentric spinster sister, isn’t there? I want to live surrounded by books. And perhaps a few cats. And I’ll write the best etymological dictionary the world has ever seen. And don’t say that it sounds lonely because that would be the very height of hypocrisy.”
This was no passing whim. Drew could tell that she had it all planned. “Finish this Season and then I’ll speak with Mother. Thornhill is still being renovated and it’s quite rustic. It’s not for everyone.”
“I’m not cowed by leaky roofs or resident ghosts. Thornhill House needs another monster.”
“You’re not a monster.”
“I’m Beastly Beatrice.”
“I wish you wouldn’t say that.”
“Why not? Everyone calls me that behind my back.”
“If you hide yourself away, you won’t be living your life.”
“That’s what you did, isn’t it? Hide yourself away. Withdraw from life.”
What a wonderful example he’d set for his sister. “I’ve created a new life with a new sense of purpose. My agricultural experiments. The simple, straightforward sense of satisfaction that comes from helping feed people.”
“I want to have a useful life. I don’t want to marry a man who doesn’t love me and who marries me for my fortune or, worse still, out of pity.”
“Before I left London, you told me that you didn’t want to be pitied. I see the sentiment is stronger than ever.”
“Pity: to feel compassion for the wretchedness of another. If someone pities me, I must be wretched, but really I’m not. I find happiness and acceptance in books. They never judge me or pity me.”
“Have I told you that you looked lovely tonight?”
“I didn’t. That shade of yellow is death to my complexion.”
“Then why agree to wear it?”
“I don’t care what I wear. Do you know who looked lovely tonight?” she asked with a glint in her eyes. “A lady I met for the first time.”
Don’t say it. Don’t—
“MissWilhelmina Penny.” She watched him closely. “I saw you dancing with her.”
A memory of their dance rose in his mind like the dawn.
MissPenny’s laughter making the candles flicker, the line of her rose-colored slippers contrasting with his black shoes, milky gauze swirling around slender ankles...
