Her maid raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?” she asked. “You wouldn’t be the first wife to fall in love with her husband.”
Beatrice huffed. “I’ve barely known him for more than two days. I am not falling in love with him simply because he picked me up when I fell.”
“You fell? Where?”
“On the stairs. Today’s dress was a tad too long, and I tripped on the hem as I was walking down the last step. Alexander heard me fall and came to my rescue.”
“Were you hurt?” Guinevere asked, putting down the comb.
“No,” Beatrice shook her head. “Simply embarrassed, but he was very kind about it.”
Guinevere began unlacing the back of Beatrice’s dress. “I shall see to getting the hems shortened,” she said. “I may need to do a fitting so we can make sure they fit properly, perhaps tomorrow.”
“Of course,” Beatrice said. “Whatever you need from me.”
“You may be the most easygoing lady I’ve ever met,” Guinevere said, the corners of her eye crinkling.
“And I suppose you’ve met many of them?” Beatrice asked.
Guinevere laughed. “No, not many, unless you count Lady Sophia.”
Beatrice grinned at the thought. Her friend Sophia had found out the truth of her own past only a few months ago, and she was now Lady Sophia Manning.
She’d thought that perhaps she would lose her friend now that she was nobility, but it seemed they had more in common than before.
“I must write to Sophia,” Beatrice said. “I’ve been so preoccupied I’ve forgotten. I’m sure she’ll have advice for me. Oh, how I wish I could go see everyone.”
“I’m sure we can arrange that,” Guinevere said.
Beatrice nodded. “Soon, I hope.”
She had missed visiting Thea this morning, even if it hadn’t been that long since she’d seen her. And if she didn’t see Dietrich before too long, he would never let her live it down that he was in town more than she was.
Although now that she was Lady Dunham, he would probably be in town much more than she was. At least until the Duke came back to the Northlands, and Dietrich had to pay attention to his job again.
“Thank you for your help,” Beatrice said, as Guinevere finished unlacing the dress and took a step back. “I think I can manage the rest.”
“Your nightgown is on your bed,” Guinevere said, with a smile and a short curtsy. “I will take my leave now, unless you need anything else.”
Beatrice smiled and shook her head. “No, thank you. Have a good night’s sleep.”
Guinevere disappeared, and Beatrice quickly put on her nightgown and brought the candlestick to the table beside her bed, where a glass of water sat waiting for her next to a rose in a cup of its own.
She smiled at the thoughtful gesture as she curled into her bed, snuggling under the warm covers and reaching for her book. She was on the last page when she heard a noise coming from Alexander’s room.
She stopped reading and looked up. It sounded almost as if he was having a nightmare. The sound of thrashing and his voice only grew louder, and Beatrice crept from her bed and stood near the adjoining door to listen.
She pressed her ear up against it and could make out the sound of her husband’s voice saying, “No, you can’t. I won’t let you. I—”
He sounded like he was in pain, the words hoarse and raw. Beatrice’s hand reached for the doorknob of its own volition, and she stopped herself before opening the door.
She shouldn’t go in there. She had no right to go into a man’s bedroom…but he was her husband, so maybe she did. And if she could wake him from his nightmare, then perhaps she should.
It couldn’t hurt to try, right?
But maybe it could. What if he was upset that she entered his room?
She reached for the doorknob again as Alexander continued to cry out. When the words turned to “please, don’t,” and his voice sounded broken, it was enough to make up her mind.
