A Promise of More (18 page)

“I am happy.”

It was hard to ignore the comments, though.

“
I always knew she was a clever girl. Beatrice has used her brother’s death to her advantage.
”

“
Hasn’t she just. But I wonder how long Lord Coldhurst will take before he forces her to his country estate and resumes his bachelor life in town.
”

Beatrice tried to ignore the comments, but as she, Marisa, and Aunt Alison
wandered further into the ballroom, she admitted to herself that the words hurt. She wanted to scream out and tell these people that Sebastian hadn’t really killed her brother, and that he was more than happy with their arrangement.

“
I would never have imagined he would have looked twice at her if it weren’t for the fact he killed her brother.
”

And the comments kept on coming. Worse still, she spied her husband across the ballroom. He was now talking to Lady Christina, the beautiful widow whom everyone knew he had been having a liaison with prior to having to flee England. Had he been contemplating marrying her?

The woman draped over her husband caught Beatrice’s eye, not only because she was stunningly beautiful, but because Sebastian didn’t appear to be pushing her away.

Aunt Alison leaned close and whispered in her ear. “She is of no importance to you. Sebastian has never been serious about Lady Christina Rossiter.”

Marisa must have overheard the comment, because she added, “Lady Christina made an utter fool of herself last year, pursuing Sebastian after he ended their liaison.”

Ended the liaison? Beatrice’s heart gave an extra thump. From where she stood, it seemed Lady Christina Rossiter was intent on renewing that liaison.

Suddenly too warm in the heat of the ballroom, and needing a respite from looking at her husband flirting outrageously with the most beautiful woman at the ball, Beatrice slipped through the open French doors, out onto the terrace. The spring night air was cool on her flushed skin, the scene peaceful, with the moon a huge, brilliant disc, bathing the landscape below. Yet even the garden’s moonlit beauty couldn’t calm the turmoil of her thoughts.

Did trust and respect in a marriage mean that he would be true to his marriage vows? Before she married, she thought she would be glad if her husband took a mistress. She hadn’t expected to enjoy the marriage bed.

Men of the
ton
always took mistresses, and she thought a mistress would save her from having to suffer her husband’s attentions. But she had never had to suffer Sebastian’s attentions. She welcomed his attentions. His lovemaking gave her so much pleasure she looked forward to sharing herself with her husband again and again.

She pondered for a while on the difficult question of their future together. She
bit her lip. Perhaps when the newness of their joining wore off, Sebastian
would
send her off to his country estate and seek an arrangement with a woman like Lady Christina.

Fool. You’re a goddamn fool
.

She inwardly broke into hysterical laughter. If a woman like Lady Christina couldn’t win Sebastian’s heart, she had no hope at all. She hung her head and gave in to defeat. She felt tears well in her eyes and the pain in her chest sharpened.

She stood there for a few moments wallowing in misery, until anger dulled the pain and straightened her back. She was his wife.
His wife
. She was not about to let some immoral woman take away her chance at love. She wasn’t about to let anyone steal what she deserved. What her children deserved.

She had a plan. It might not be a brilliant plan, but it could work. The gap between Sebastian and her had shortened this morning. She could feel it.

Her battered pride fortified, she reentered the ballroom.

Beatrice was pleased the ballroom overflowed with patrons. The crush made it easy to stay hidden within the crowd. But she soon found she was hiding in a fishbowl, as everywhere she looked, people were staring. The
ton
was fascinated and aghast that Sebastian had married Doogie Hennessey’s spinster sister. All eyes were upon her, and she had never felt more out of place or more uncomfortable.

Thankfully, Marisa spied her and made her way to Beatrice’s side. The girl gave her a wan smile and said, “I must admit your presence here tonight is causing quite a stir.”

Her face flamed at Marisa’s words. She kept a watchful eye from the sidelines while everyone else pretended, with little skill, that they were not talking about her.

“I suppose it is to be expected,” she said. “It’s not every day a man marries the sister of the man he killed in a duel. The gossips are having a field day.”

Marisa linked her arm through hers and smiled. “Then we must show everyone how very happy with this arrangement the family is.” She looked at Beatrice quizzically. “You are happy with the arrangement, aren’t you? I know my brother can seem a bit intimidating at times, but he has a soft heart.”

“Your brother has been nothing but kind to me. I have no complaints at all about the marriage. It is a marriage based on trust and respect.”

Marisa patted her hand and continued to look out over the crowd. “I knew you would be sensible. Neither Sebastian nor myself want a love match. Love burns fiery
and bright, and jealousy seems to fuel it.”

“Well, I can assure you there is nothing about me that would arouse jealousy in anyone.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Marisa looked her up and down. “You are very beautiful, Beatrice. Has no one ever told you so?”

She gave a small grimace. “I don’t think anyone sees past the nickname Henpeck Hennessey.”

She watched Marisa’s face flood with color. “I’m so sorry,” the girl said. “Sebastian has explained what your brother did and how he was going through the family money as if it were apple cider. I think I would have been a henpeck too if I had to watch my brother flitter away our livelihood.”

“You don’t know how lucky you are. You have a brother who thinks of you all the time, who puts family and responsibility ahead of his own needs. I have never had that in all my life.”

“Well, now you are family, and Sebastian will put your needs before his own as well.”

Beatrice remained silent. She had an inkling Marisa might be right, because Sebastian was a man of honor. It had nothing to do with the way he felt about her. She saw that he loved his two sisters. And for one fleeting moment, she wondered what it would be like to be loved by a man like him.

She knew of his parents’ background, but not all marriages made in love were as fiery as his parents’ had been. If, in fact, it had ever been based in love. Why would you try to make your lover jealous? Why hurt them?

Besides, she doubted she’d ever be able to provoke that sort of fiery, possessive emotion in any man. A slow-simmering love was all she required, not a poet’s burning passion.

Just then Lord Montague stepped forward and bowed over Marisa’s hand. “Sorry to interrupt, but my dance, I believe, Lady Marisa.”

Marisa beamed at the handsome young man. She looked briefly at Beatrice, and Beatrice nodded back to her.

“Yes, you must go and dance, don’t worry about me. I see a friend over there I can talk to.”

As soon as Marisa and her beau departed, Beatrice decided to find the refreshments table, and she made her way through the crush toward the table lining
the back wall. She had almost made it when a man stepped in her way and halted her progress.

“Why, if it isn’t the newly crowned Marchioness Coldhurst,” Lord Dunmire remarked. “The woman who is now bedding the man who killed her brother.”

She stood frozen to the spot. “While you are the man who raped and deserted a respectable woman. I wouldn’t throw stones.” She made to go round him but he stepped in her way once more.

“Do you think of Doogie while Coldhurst ruts atop you? He must be turning in his grave at what you have done when you could have married me.”

She couldn’t help it, the words slipped out: “Sebastian didn’t kill Doogie and once we find Lord Eyre we can prove it.”

Dunmire gave a tight smile. “Rubbish. You’re so gullible. Don’t think you have escaped me.” He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “You will never escape me.”

A tremor of revulsion swamped her body from his putrid breath on her cheek.

“I suggest you leave me alone, Dunmire.” She almost spat his name. “My husband is not a man to be trifled with.”

The Earl stood regarding her, probing the mask of calm that had settled on her face.

“I’m not frightened of Sebastian Hawkestone. Besides, we all know why he married you. He married you out of guilt. I suspect he wouldn’t care what happened to you.”

Beatrice took a step back, denial screaming in her head. “You have no power over me anymore. Lizzy is dead. I’m married to someone else. I will continue on with my life and never think of you again.”

“Lizzy died at the wrong time. I almost had you. My threat to hurt Lizzy if you didn’t willingly come to my bed died with her.”

“You’re despicable,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “Why can’t you leave me alone?”

His smile widened to grotesque. “Why? Because you denied me.
Me!
” He moved closer. “A nobody like you. A spinster, no dowry, refused my honorable offer of marriage. Why? Because of one silly indiscretion. That’s why. I have not forgotten the slight and now I’ll take you without honor. You will be beneath me, mark my words.” He was breathing heavily, anger scoring his mouth.

She turned to escape him but his arm shot out and grabbed her wrist, clamping her to his side. She trembled, captured unless she wanted to make a scene.

“Your marriage will not save you, so don’t play hoity with me.”

“You have no hold over me, my lord. All I have to do is tell my husband—”

“But you won’t. There is Lizzy’s son. I know the child survived and I think you are providing for him. My son. You know where he is, and I know that you pay for his upkeep. What do you think will happen if I take the child?”

Beatrice whirled back round to face him. “You would never claim him, because then questions would be asked as to how he was born. And I would take great pleasure in telling the world what you did to Lizzy.” Fury engulfed her, giving her a snap of courage. “You’ll never have him.”

“Claim him, never. Take him … who would stop me? Who even knows of his birth?” Dunmire laughed in her face. “And it would be, what, your word against mine? If you care for the child, which I suspect you do, what do you think will happen to him in my care? Once I find the child, once I have him, you will bend to my will.”

Beatrice felt trapped for the first time in her life. She cared greatly for Lizzy’s son, Henry. Lizzy had died bringing the boy into this world, and Beatrice had made her a promise to protect him, specifically to protect him from Dunmire and his evil influence.

“Go to hell, Dunmire. I’m not telling you anything and I’m not giving up Lizzy’s son. Not to a man like you.”

Anger scored Dunmire’s mouth as he stood silently looking at her. “What would your husband think if I revealed the existence of the boy? I could even say that it was your child. He might begin to wonder whether that was true or not. After all, you are at the age where you could have had a disputable past.”

Now it was Beatrice’s turn to feel the heat of embarrassment. “I think you will find my husband knew that I had lain with no other man on our wedding night.”

“We men know how these things can be faked. It would plant a seed of doubt anyway, would it not? Why on earth would a woman take on the caring of another’s illegitimate child, especially when her family could barely keep a roof over their heads? Perhaps she was hiding something?”

Beatrice looked round the room trying to find Sebastian. She didn’t want her husband to see her talking with Dunmire. For she had no idea if what Dunmire said was true. Would Sebastian think she had tricked him on the night of their wedding?

“Just go away and leave me alone, Dunmire,” she hissed. “I’m done dealing with the likes of you. You can’t touch me.” And like a coward, she whirled round and retreated through the crowd, worming her way across the ballroom until she found her way to the retiring room.

“My, my, I wonder if that was a lover’s tiff. Did you know anything about who Beatrice was seeing prior to your marriage?”

Sebastian frowned as he watched his wife hurry across the ballroom, pushing through the crowd in her haste to escape. His eyes narrowed and they focused on the man across the room, the man who’d sent her fleeing. The man she had been talking to. The man who had put his hand on her arm. Lord Dunmire.

“I do not believe I know of Beatrice’s past. She was at an age where I thought if she had wanted to accept another man, she would have.”

The woman laughed gaily at his side. “More fool you. For I’ve heard rumors that Dunmire was quite taken with your bride before she twisted your sense of honor into marriage.”

Christina had her hand through Sebastian’s arm and she pushed herself intimately against him. He didn’t for one moment believe what Christina was saying. It likely sprang from jealousy. She’d not taken his marriage to Beatrice well, which was not surprising considering she had marked him as a prime candidate for husband number two.