“But that doesn’t change the fact that all this is about her. You’re trying to prove something to the countess.”
The certainty with which she spoke facts she couldn’t, in fact, be sure of irked Dev. “Imogen,” he said, the correction a reflex—a telling one.
Beatrix shook her head, firm and clear-eyed. “The countess will never be Imogen to me.”
He could see there would be no getting out of this conversation without a spilling of the truth. “Imogen and I have known one another since childhood, but it wasn’t until our teen years that friendship turned into something else.”
“Infatuation.”
“If you want to call it that.”Obsessionmight’ve been more fitting. “I went away to school, and she?—”
“Got married.”
“Not that quickly. After school, I went into business with Mr. Shaw, and we started our steam engine business. We’d even made a success of it before she married.”
Realization dawned across Beatrix’s face. “You only lacked one thing.” He didn’t care for the hard, sharp glint that had entered her eye.
“And what was that?” he asked, even as he could predict the answer.
“You weren’t an earl.”
“What a very cynical lady you are.” He wasn’t above deflection. Still, she needed correcting. “It was Imogen’s father who wanted an earl in the family.”
Beatrix shook her head. “Women cannot be forced into marriage.”
Dev was growing decidedly irritated with this woman. “You know nothing of the matter.” Each syllable dripped ice.
“Oh, I know a few things,” she said, undeterred by his sudden coldness. “Over the last several years, you’ve grown rich as Croesus. So, you thought what better use for all that hard-won blunt than to insinuate yourself into theton—into your Imogen’s world—and win your beloved back the way you’ve won everything.” A beat of time calculated for drama ticked past. “With your money.” A triumphant, little smile curled about her mouth. “Am I close?”
Though Dev’s back teeth wanted to grind together, he didn’t deny it. The blasted woman had hit the target close to dead center.
Close, but not quite.
“What you’ve described is the first step.”
Beatrix’s brow lifted, then realization lit within her eyes. “You mean divorce.”
He nodded. The woman was quick, he would give her that.
She shook her head. “It would be next to impossible for her to secure a divorce from Bridgewater. They don’t have children, but even so, the laws are notoriously strict.”
“Imogen won’t be applying for a divorce.”
Beatrix’s eyebrows winged together. “Pardon?”
Dev didn’t owe her this explanation, yet he felt compelled to offer it. “Bridgewater needs money.”
The words hung in the air while Beatrix’s mind raced through them. Her brow released, revelation writ clear. “Andyouhave money.” As he’d known she would, she’d worked it out. “You’re planning to offer Bridgewater money to divorce the countess.”
“A fortune, in fact,” he clarified. “I’ve made several; I won’t miss one.”
Beatrix’s brow lifted with plain skepticism. “You truly believe Lady Bridgewater will cause the biggest scandal thetonhas seen this century by agreeing to divorce the earl she worked so hard to secure?”
The question was blunt—and genuine.
“Imogen”—the Imogen Dev knew in his heart of hearts—“doesn’t give a toss about any of that,” he growled. “Her father worked for that title. It means nothing to someone like her.”
“So, you’ve made yourself so successful and so impossible to ignore that she will leave Bridgewater to take up with you?”
