They had done nothing erotic.
And yet Leith felt closer to her than he ever had.
Chapter Thirty-One
Beatrice woke thenext morning with a start.
For once, it was not the handsome man intertwined with her that startled her, but the realization that she was in her bedchamber at Parkhorne Hall.
She had been so convinced that she wouldn’t see Parkhorne foryears.And thus it was startling to be back less than two weeks after she had departed in tears and with such certainty of a long estrangement in her heart.
Leith still slept and she saw no need to wake him.Truthfully, if she was able to deal with Mr.Gordstone in the manner that she expected would sate him, Leith would have little to do.And Parkhorne offered very little by way of amusement, especially to a man used to the delights of London.Best, she concluded, to let him sleep.
She dressed quickly and set out to find her mother.She knew not to seek her downstairs, where Mr.Gordstone would no doubt be prowling.On his last visit to Parkhorne, when he had announced the debt, he had never seemed to leave the communal family areas, as if bent on destroying their ability to congregate together.
Instead, she went to her mother’s chamber, which had been her own room in childhood.She knocked on the door.
“Come in,” her mother called.
Beatrice frowned.She should not just be letting anyone in, not when Mr.Gordstone was in the house.
She opened the door and shut it quickly behind her.
The chamber smelled like her mother—a faint trace of rose—and it comforted her.And the woman herself was seated in a chair by her fire, holding the latest issue ofThe Lady’s Magazine.Her mother had been a life-long devotee and she particularly enjoyed the direction of the new editors.Her morning toilette and her readership of this magazine were her only remaining cosmopolitan habits.She had spent her youth in London, one of six daughters to a wealthy merchant, but she had not been back since her marriage more than twenty-five years ago.Despite her father’s wealth and the decent dowries he had been capable of giving them, none of the girls had made particularly advantageous marriages.None of her aunts, the ones remaining living, could be expected to help her family in the matter of this debt.It was a deuced piece of bad luck, but her mother’s lot had always seemed to be thus.
And yet her mother appeared to have, as usual, an air of great contentment.Since her husband’s death, in fact, her happiness had seemed to increase with each passing year.
“I met the new editors.OfThe Lady’s Magazine.Or one of them, anyway.”
“No!You didn’t!”Her mother’s mouth formed a perfecto.“Which one?”
“Lady Tremberley.She is married to one of Lord Leith’s best friends.”
“How wonderful.London is like that.Impossible things can happen there.Although I wish you’d met Mrs.Burnbridge, too.Her essays on politics are my absolute favorites.”
“I will tell her, if we ever do meet.”
“Please do.”
“And, Mother, you should have asked who it was before letting me in.Or better yet, you should have come to the door.”
“But I knew it was you.”
“You couldn’t have.And you need to be careful.With Mr.Gordstone around.”
She shook her head.“I am safe here.He would not come to my bedchamber.He would not be as bold as that.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.”She moved towards her mother and sat on the chair opposite.“What does he want?Why is he back so soon?”
Her mother sighed.“To marry me, I expect.”
Beatrice let out a little huff of alarm.“Has he made any declaration?”
“No.But I expect he is only working up the courage.Poor Sebastian.I would marry him if I could.But I simply cannot see him in such a light.Nor do I want another husband.”
“Has he mentioned the debt?”
“He hasn’t.But he has mentioned another matter.Which I hope won’t upset you.”
