“He wouldn’t marry you, afterwards?”
“He might have done.But his father, Lord Holcombe, was resolute.In the end now, though, I wonder if he regrets it.”
“What do you mean?”
She sighed.“He died.Lord Gilchrist.After what happened with me, he went somewhat wild.And—well, it’s horrible.”
“What?”
“He got the pox.And apparently, when it became clear what was happening to him, he shot himself.”
Leith winced.“My God.”
“So, instead of a daughter-in-law that he thought was beneath him, Lord Holcombe will now leave the heap of which he is so proud to a second cousin.”
“Do you mourn him?Gilchrist?”
“I mourn anyone who dies in so sad a way, but, for myself, no, I do not.Our dalliance was too short—and was more youthful rebellion on both sides than anything else.”
Her dark eyes had a melancholy look, but they revealed no great pain.Perhaps, then, she was telling the truth about Gilchrist.
“Will Sally recover by the morning?”
“I expect so.Although I fear Charles may not.”
“I will let that affair of the heart take its own course.I must say, though, that you are very solicitous of your maid.”
She looked away.“It is much as it is with you and Charles—I have known her family for a long time.”
“Still, a maidservant getting foxed at Vauxhall—many mistresses would be furious.Some might even dismiss the girl.”
Beatrice shook her head.“That is not possible.”
“Because you care for the girl?”
“Yes,” she said.“But not only that.Our relationship is more than maid and mistress.I suppose there is no reason that I cannot tell you.She is my sister.”
Leith reared back.“Yoursister?”
He thought of Sally, with her pretty, refined features.He supposed he could see a resemblance to Beatrice, although not a particularly near one.
“My half sister,” she said, by way of explanation.
“Ah,” he said, understanding dawning.“From your father?”
“She is certainly not my mother’s.Although given how beastly my father was, I couldn’t blame her.”
“Tell me the story.”
“It is as typical as my own ruination.My father seduced a local girl—not a first for him—the daughter of a thrifty, religious woman.The girl died giving birth to Sally.It was always said she was my father’s daughter, although he did nothing for her.When her grandmother died, I insisted that she be hired at Parkhorne.”
“Your mother did not mind?”
Beatrice shook her head.“Not in the slightest.She regards Sally as her own now.And it is strange, because they are much more like than I am to either of them.But I did not come into your bedchamber to talk about Sally.”
She smiled up at him, then.Her hair, dark and beautiful, hung down loose.He had never seen it unbound before and it called out to him.He loved when his mistresses unbound their hair and now, that it was Beatrice, he loved it more than ever.
“Oh, why did you come, then?”
