Wedding of the Season (27 page)

His breathing was ragged against her hair, the thrust of his hips forcing her deeper into the mattress, and Beatrix began to feel again that wonderful thickening pleasure he’d aroused before with his hands and his mouth.

And then, all of a sudden, shudders rocked him, and he let out a hoarse cry. He thrust against her several more times, and then collapsed, breathing hard, burying his face against her neck.

She raked her fingers through his hair, she stroked the hard, strong muscles of his back and shoulders. When he kissed her hair and murmured her name, happiness rose within her like a fierce, surging tide.

Yes, she thought, this was why she’d come tonight. Because when he was gone, maybe he’d remember this, and he would be happy, too. And maybe when he left this time around, he wouldn’t wait six years to come back.

Chapter Nineteen

H
e was asleep.

Beatrix studied him in the lamplight as she dressed. Oddly enough, in her whole life she’d never seen him asleep. He lay on his stomach, sheets thrown off, exposing his bare, muscled back down to his tailbone.

One of his arms was tucked beneath him, the other was wrapped around her pillow. She smiled at that, liking to believe he thought the pillow was she. Though his countenance still seemed harsher than that of the man who’d gone away six years ago, it was softened now by sleep, reminding her of the boy she’d been in love with ever since she’d been capable of conscious thought.

And she did love him. She’d tried so hard to stop, but that, she supposed, had always been a waste of time and effort. She’d handed her heart over to him before she was three years old, and no matter how she tried, she could never quite manage to get it back. She’d been afraid of that earlier, but now it was done and couldn’t be undone.

He’d told her he was coming back, and she believed him. She did. But that didn’t alter the fact that he was still leaving. He’d probably go on leaving forever, and every time he did, it would probably hurt just as much as it did right now.

She would go on with her own life here in Devonshire. She liked being an illustrator, and she intended to keep doing it. Perhaps she could do some sketches for Viscount Marlowe’s newspapers or illustrate some of the books for his publishing company. Her family might find that acceptable. Maybe next year she’d sketch artifacts for Will again when he came home.

Home. Here in Devonshire would always be her home, but when Will went to Egypt, he’d always take a part of her heart along with him.

She bent down and brushed her lips to Will’s cheek, lightly, so she wouldn’t wake him. “I love you, Will,” she whispered. “I hope it’s Tut in that tomb. If it is, maybe you’ll come home for good, but if you don’t, that’s all right, too. I just want you to be happy.”

Turning away, she tiptoed out of the room, but she paused by the door for one last look. Their adventure was over, but she wanted to remember this image through what was sure to be a long, lonely winter.

She’d left the north wing door at Danbury unlocked, as she’d always done in the old days when she’d snuck out to meet Will. The north wing was nearly empty, and as always, she was able to tiptoe all the way back to her room in the silence of early morning without being seen by anyone. Exhausted, she undressed, slipped into bed, and the moment her head hit the pillow, she was asleep.

“M
a’am, wake up.”

Beatrix stirred, feeling Lily’s hand on her shoulder, and she shook off the maid’s touch without opening her eyes, fighting to hang on to sleep, for she felt as if she’d barely laid her head down.

“Oh, ma’am, wake up. His Grace, the Duke of Sunderland, has come to call.”

“Will?” She opened her eyes. “Will’s here?” Still groggy from sleep, she sat up, giving her maid a dubious look, but Lily’s next words negated any notion that she’d been dreaming.

“Yes, ma’am. He’s in the drawing room, and he wants to see you. Lady Danbury told him you had not come down, but he said it was important that he see you because he’s leaving today to go back to Egypt.”

She shook her head, trying to clear her sleep-drugged senses. “What time is it?”

“Half past ten, ma’am. Lady Danbury sent me to fetch you and help you dress so that you could come down and say good-bye. You’d best hurry, she said, because His Grace must be at the station to catch the noon train, so you won’t have time for a long visit.”

She didn’t want a long visit. In fact, she didn’t want a visit at all. She’d already said her good-byes, and she didn’t think she could bear another one, not in person. “I’m not coming down.”

Lily looked at her doubtfully. “Lady Danbury was most insistent.”

“I’m not coming down. Lily, go tell His Grace I don’t wish to see him. I don’t . . .” She paused, swallowing hard. “I can’t bear good-byes. He knows that. Tell him I shall see him when he returns in the spring.”

Lily nodded and went out. Beatrix didn’t go back to sleep. Instead, she got out of bed, slipped a wrapper over her nightdress, and walked to the window. Mr. Robinson’s cart was there, along with Will’s manservant, and the cart was piled with luggage. Six years, and except for the servant, the view was the same as before.

She knew why he was here, but she couldn’t go on this adventure, and that was part of why she’d said her good-byes as he slept. She might have been able to jump off Angel’s Head with him, but she still didn’t want to live on the other side of the world. And though her father was dead, she couldn’t scandalize the rest of her family by an elopement. She didn’t want Will to tempt her to try.

She waited by the window, and when Will finally emerged from the house, she watched his back as he walked to the cart.

He started to climb up on the box beside Mr. Robinson, and she breathed a little sigh of relief, but that relief was short-lived. With one booted foot on the box, he paused and turned to look back over his shoulder. He looked straight up at her window.

She wanted to duck out of sight, but she didn’t. She could only look back at him, her heart breaking with good-bye.

Go, Will, just go. Don’t wait for me. Go find Tut, and when you come home in the spring, then we’ll see.

Even though her lamp wasn’t lit and he probably couldn’t see her behind the reflection of the glass, he beckoned her to come down as if he knew she was there. She didn’t move, except to slowly shake her head.

Go
,
Will
, she prayed.
For God’s sake
.

At last, after what seemed an eternity, he turned and climbed up on the box. Mr. Robinson snapped the reins, and the dogcart lurched forward in the drive, circling around. As it went back down the long, tree-shaded lane to the Stafford Road, he turned, looking back over his shoulder at Danbury House for what she knew was one last look.

Beatrix watched him go, and even after he was too far away to see, she squinted, trying to keep him in focus as long as she could, until he blurred in a haze of tears and the cart reached the end of the lane. There it turned, disappearing behind the trees that lined the road.

Beatrix stayed by her window, looking down the lane long after he was gone. Lily returned, confirming that Eugenia was in a dither, certain Will had come to propose again and furious that her niece had refused to even see him, but Beatrix didn’t care about that. She was trying to protect her heart from further pain.

She stared down the lane, thinking of all the times she’d stood there before, waiting for Will, waiting for her wedding day, waiting for life to start.

Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose.

Looking down the lane, she suddenly realized what a narrow lane it was. A narrow lane for a narrow life, a life thinned down by her father, by society, by her own fear. Her fear, most of all. She’d always been afraid—of earning disapproval, of stepping outside the bounds, of living a different life than the one she’d always known.

Suddenly resentment rose up inside her, resentment toward herself for living a life bound by rules she never made. Why couldn’t girls swing high on the swings until their dresses flew up? Why couldn’t they become artists or dig up artifacts or elope with the men they loved? Why was any of that a disgrace?

You long to jump off, but you just can’t work up the nerve, so you tell yourself you’re content to look at the view.

Naturally. Ladies looked at the view. And that was all they did.

She lurched to her feet so suddenly that her chair tipped backward and hit the floor behind her with a thud. “I don’t want to look at the view!” she shouted, slapping her palms against the window. “I want to jump off the damned cliff!”

Lily came running out of the dressing room. “Ma’am?”

She turned to find her maid staring at her in surprise, her hands holding one of Beatrix’s gowns. She gave a choked laugh at the maid’s alarmed expression. “I envy you, Lily,” she confessed. “I truly do.”

The girl’s blue eyes went even wider. “Me, ma’am? You’re a lady. Whyever would you envy me?”

“Because you’re free,” she said savagely. “No one would care if you decided to swing too high on the swings or take a trip to Florence, or . . . or run off with a man!”

“Run off with a man? Oh, ma’am, my mum would take the skin off my back if I was to do that.” Then she realized the implications. “Oh, ma’am,” she squeaked in excitement, “are you thinking to elope with His Grace? There’d be a terrible scandal about that, wouldn’t there, ma’am?”

She made a face. “Yes, exactly, and a lady never creates a scandal. A lady doesn’t draw pictures and sell them for money. A lady doesn’t drive motorcars and a lady doesn’t walk barefoot on the sand, either! No, ladies have to wear black crepe when someone dies, and have to be accompanied wherever they go. And I’m tired of it.”

Lily said nothing, probably because there was nothing to say.

“I feel as if there are chains around me, Lily. Tying me down, keeping me fixed to one place, one life, one ideal, and every time I’ve tried to break free, I’ve ended up being more tied down than before. And the odd thing is, it’s been my own fault. I decided what life I had to have, what sort of woman I had to be. I helped to create those chains. I helped tie them around myself, and I helped anchor them in place, and I’ve lived in them for twenty-six years. I chose those things, even though underneath I yearned for something more. Those chains made me feel important. What a humbug I’ve been.

“Do you know why I learned to drive a motorcar?” When the maid shook her head, Beatrix went on, “Because I wanted to feel free, but I didn’t have enough courage to go after real freedom.” She gave a short laugh at the other woman’s bewildered expression. “And you don’t know what in heaven’s name I’m talking about, do you?”

The girl shook her head. “No, ma’am.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, and started for the door. “It’s time to break the chains.”

With that, she walked out of the bedroom, leaving her astonished maid staring after her. Ten minutes later, she was back, with two of the valises from the luggage set she’d bought six years ago. Lily once again came out of the dressing room and gave a squeal of surprise.

“Oh, ma’am, you are eloping!”

She laughed, feeling an exhilaration that only Will could inspire. “I am, and there isn’t much time.” She kicked the door shut behind her and tossed the valises onto the bed, then she unsnapped the brass locks and threw back the lids. “I’ll need shirtwaists, skirts—summer things, mostly,” she said, nodding toward the armoire. “I’ll need a thick, warm shawl, too. And one evening gown, one tea gown, one afternoon frock . . . lingerie, of course. Oh dear, I hope it all fits in two suitcases. I can only take what I can carry.”

Lily nodded, pulling pieces of clothing out of the armoire. “How many hatboxes, ma’am?”

“One. Three hats will fit in it—pack a boater, a big, floppy straw, and one little afternoon bonnet.”

“What should I bring, miss?” Lily asked as she brought an armful of clothes to the bed.

“You’re not coming. Listen to me carefully.” She grasped the maid by the shoulders. “If you want to follow me, I’ll send for you. If not, I’ll write you a brilliant letter of character later, although it might not do you much good, since I shall soon be a scandal and the last person in the world to go to for a character reference. But I’ll do whatever I can to look out for you, and I promise you won’t get into any trouble because of this, all right? But you can’t tell anyone I’m going. Do you understand.”

Wide-eyed, Lily nodded.

“Good. Now I have to leave all the packing to you because I need to go down and talk to Lord Danbury before I leave. Lock the door behind me, and take the key out of the lock. If anyone wants in, just keep quiet, and they’ll think I’ve locked it from the outside for some reason. Pack my things as quietly as you can, and only as much as you can fit in these two suitcases and one hatbox. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And be quick. I have to catch the noon train.” She let go and gave another laugh as she turned away, feeling dizzy. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

She left the bedroom and went down to Paul’s study. Thankfully he was at his desk writing letters, and she didn’t have to go off searching for him. “Could I speak with you a moment?” Without waiting for an answer, she came in and shut the door behind her. “I’m going away, Paul.”

“Away?” Her cousin frowned in puzzlement, standing up as she came toward him across the room. “But we just returned home.”

“I know, but . . .” She paused before his desk and took a deep breath. “I’m going to Egypt with Will. We’re eloping.”

“What?” He started at her in openmouthed astonishment for a moment, then he rallied. “Are you out of your mind or am I?”

“Neither. Will has to leave. Now. Today. And I’m going with him. We’re taking the noon train.”

He frowned. “I’m your closest male relation, head of the family. Do you seriously expect me to go along with this?”

“I love him, Paul. I always have, I always will, and he loves me, and life is short, and I’m not waiting a moment longer to be with him.”