“You were trying to do the right thing, but it didn’t turn out the way you planned. Trust me, I’ve been there,” Kent said with feeling. “You can’t blame yourself for trying to find a way to balance your lady’s interests with that of the company.”
Was that true?
Wick looked at Garrity. “You’re being strangely blasé about this. Yesterday you wanted me to force Beatrice into selling her land.”
“And yesterday you reminded me that there are more important things than money.” Garrity flicked a speck off the sleeve of his dark frock coat. “When I got home, Mrs. Garrity reminded me of that as well. She said that we owed you for you helped to rescue her two years ago, and she’s right. You protected that which I treasure most. As a man of honor, I must return the favor.”
Wick frowned. “It was my privilege to assist Mrs. Garrity. There is no debt.”
“I say there is, which is why I offer this piece of advice.” Garrity’s black gaze was penetrating. “Do not allow your past to interfere with your present happiness. Let it go. Be the man you are today—the man your lady deserves.”
The words triggered the memory of what Beatrice had said to him when he’d told her about Monique.The important thing is that you’ve changed, grown up… Knowing you as you are now, I can vouch for the fact that you are a true gentleman, one with a keen sense of honor.
Hehadchanged. He was no longer the wayward spare to the heir who’d never gained his father’s approval, nor the young rake who’d lived a reckless life. He had earned his right to be called a gentleman—and a failed project couldn’t change that.
“You’re right,” he said slowly.
Garrity lifted an eyebrow. “When am I not?”
A knock sounded. Wick went to open the door; the guard he’d assigned to Beatrice stood there.
“Wilcox?” he said tersely. “Why aren’t you with Lady Beatrice?”
The guard’s throat bobbed. “She’s gone, sir. She and her maid left without saying a word.”
* * *
“Leaving was easier than I thought it would be,” Bea said as the coach wound through Pall Mall. “I don’t think anyone saw us go.”
“It was most lucky, my lady,” Lisette agreed from the opposite bench.
They’d found the right moment when the servants had been distracted by luncheon. Slipping out the back, they’d dashed into the waiting conveyance. The resourceful maid had thought of everything for the carriage had taken off immediately, without Bea having to give orders to the driver whom she’d barely glimpsed.
The delay now was getting out of London; the coach was creeping along at a snail’s pace.
Bea drew back the drapes and peered out. The thoroughfare was congested with carts, carriages, and throngs of people on foot and horseback. She saw two men arguing, gesticulating wildly, an upended crate of eggs between them. One of the men lurched toward the other, and Bea’s heart skipped a beat when she saw who was standing behind him.
The cherub-faced boy with the cap. The mudlark…it couldn’t be a coincidence.
Certainty pierced her.He’s watching me.
Heart pounding, she released the curtain. “Lisette, across the street, behind the men arguing over the eggs—do you see a brown-haired boy?”
The maid looked out her window. “I see the men, my lady, but no boy.”
Bea peered out again. The maid was right. The boy had vanished.
“He was there,” Bea insisted. “A street urchin with a cap.”
“London is full of such boys, my lady.” With a puzzled smile, the maid reached into a basket by her feet. “I had the driver pick up provisions since it’s to be a long journey. Shall I pour you a cup of tea to soothe the nerves?”
“You think of everything, Lisette.” Bea took the cup, sipping as she stared out the window.
Who is that boy…and what does he want?
37
“Why would she leave?”Wick paced the length of his drawing room in an agitated stride. “Christ, doesn’t she know the danger she could be in wandering off alone?”
