That is what she had said, on their first meeting, about why she wanted to be a mistress and would never marry.She had always made clear that she preferred a bond that could be easily dissolved.
He would force nothing more lasting on her, of course.
But he also couldn’t stand for her to be harmed.In any way.
He had never before been a protective man.Or at least not when it came to women.With his friends, he supposed, he could be.In the case of Monty, all those years ago, those protective instincts had led him horribly astray, so it was difficult for him to trust them.
But they couldn’t be helped.Not when it came to Beatrice.
Now, he understood what John and Trem and Monty felt.The churning inside of him, the pounding rage, that he felt at the prospect of anyone harming Beatrice—he supposed it was what his friends experienced for their wives.
He remembered how wrathful John had been, that one time, before his marriage to Catherine, when he and Monty had encountered them at a roadside inn.Leith had thought John absurd for becoming so possessive when Monty and he had breakfasted with Catherine alone.
In this moment, however, he understood his friend perfectly.
The truth was that he had already sent, before their departure, a letter to his solicitor commanding the man to dig up anything and everything he could on Mr.Gordstone.And he had sent letters to John, Trem, and Monty with their special symbol, the one that they used when circumstances were urgent—and asked them to do anything they could to inquire into the matter.
He knew that, in Monty’s case, he may have trespassed too far for their friendship to continue.Once Monty knew he was traveling with Beatrice across the countryside, to her family’s home no less, he would know that he had bedded her, against his express orders.
And, knowing Monty and certainly knowing Olivia, the rest would be evident, too.
They would know—as Trem and John already did—that Leith was in love.
Leaving Preston and Charles to deal with their trunks, Leith strode up to the inn door and rang the bell.A porter quickly answered.
“Who is it?”
“The Marquess of Leith.I know Mrs.Bercine.”
Once, long ago, Monty had been shot in a duel, and he and Trem had repaired to Mrs.Bercine’s for his recovery.Leith had come out to visit while Monty recovered.Back then, he and Trem both had thought that Monty and Mrs.Bercine might have had an attraction.Leith had even supposed that Monty had slept with her.Now, of course, he knew that wasn’t true.
Nevertheless, Mrs.Bercine ran the finest inn along this particular thoroughfare.And he was prepared to pay for their comfort.
The porter beckoned them inside and, soon, he had arranged for three rooms: one for Sally, one for him and Beatrice, and one for Preston and Charles.He also ordered a cold dinner for their party—including Preston and Charles—which they all ate quickly, in the tavern, before heading off to bed.
When he was finally alone with Beatrice in their room, Leith felt an immediate relief.
He was fond of her sister, but he hadn’t quite realized that he badly wanted to be alone with Beatrice.
In sleepy silence, they both prepared for bed.In fact, he already sat in bed in his nightshirt, watching her go through the last of her nightly ablutions.
And he found her silence quite vexing.
“Are you cross with me?”he finally asked, when he couldn’t bear it any longer.
“No,” she said, but her voice sounded thin.
“You seemed frustrated in the carriage.”
She sighed.“I just don’t want to be overruled in my own home, Thomas.How would you feel?”
He considered the question.The possibility had, of course, never truly occurred to him.He and his mother had been alone for so long, just the two of them—and she overruled him all the time.
But he supposed it was not the same as an outsider doing the same.
“I promise not to overrule you.I only want to help.”
She had let down her hair and it swished becomingly over her shoulders.
