Where had Tottie gone?
The soup course was served. It was Bea’s favorite spicy mulligatawny, yet she found she had no appetite. An ominous feeling occupied her stomach.
Who had set fire to her barn? Possible suspects rattled about in her head, her nerves on edge. She’d told the Sheridans about the linseed oil, asking them to be discreet, and she wished she could bring up the topic now. Yet she couldn’t discuss the subject in front of Severin Knight; he was a stranger with a nebulous connection to the past she’d left behind. She’d invited him tonight so that she could discover his, and her brother’s, intentions.
At present, Knight sat to the right of her, Wick to her left. Sandwiched between the two, Bea couldn’t miss the waves of hostile energy that passed between them, and it added to her unease. On the surface, the two were as different as night and day. Mr. Knight was the epitome of restraint and precision, his dark hair cut ruthlessly short, his grey cravat—the exact shade of his eyes—tied in a crisp knot. He was perfectly buttoned up, his broad shoulders rigid beneath his jacket of spotless charcoal superfine.
Wick, on the other hand, looked like some pagan god of sensuality. His thick, wavy mane had that artful, just-risen disarray. The casual folds of his cravat had probably taken his valet hours to perfect. His stark evening wear fit him like a second skin, adding to his sleek, predatory air.
He was making chitchat with Fancy, who was seated on his other side. Fancy had traded her usual plaits for a topknot, and her pretty pink frock was one of her own creations. She blushed at something he said. Then Wick shifted his gaze to Bea, his eyes flaring with possessive gold. Remembering their tempestuous lovemaking beneath the tree, the heat of his virility upon her skin, Bea felt a flutter at her core, accompanied by an inexplicable sense…of panic.
Last night seemed magical and faraway, as if it had taken place in a different world. In the darkness, it had felt safe to surrender, to abandon herself to desire. To experience the pleasure and happiness of those precious moments in Wick’s arms.
Yet, as always, reality brought an end to dreams.
While she’d been cavorting with Wick, some bastard had committed arson on her property. It was only luck that no one had been harmed. And now her past had caught up with her in the form of Severin Knight, sent by her brother, whom she hadn’t seen in five years. The sequence of events—delight followed by disaster—felt uncannily familiar.
With her accident, she’d been caught unprepared. She’d put her faith in others, thought that they would help her out of the mire of despair. Instead, they’d abandoned her, each for their own reasons.
Papa…because he couldn’t stand to look at her when she was no longer his pretty princess, Croydon for much the same reason. Benedict because the sight of her rankled his pride, filled him with the need to avenge her honor, even when she’d begged him to leave things alone. Arabella and her so-called friends had deserted her because, well, they’d never really liked her anyway. And even her poor mama had left her: the duchess’s heart hadn’t been able to bear the aftermath of Bea’s accident.
Yes, Bea knew what happened when one depended upon others.
As seductive as her games with Wick had been, it was one thing to relinquish control during lovemaking and another to do so in real life. Feeling the longing his possessiveness stirred in her, she knew this game was too dangerous to play. She couldn’t trust herself to keep her emotions separate from their sexual encounters. During the fire, she’d started to lean on his strength, to believe that he would stand by her side...to trust him.
Even though sheknewthat he wanted to build a railway across her land. That he was beautiful, and society saw her as a beast. That there could be no happy ending for them.
I need to regain control—over myself and the situation.After supper, she would have a clear accounting with Wick…but first she would discover what her brother’s emissary wanted.
“Tell me, Mr. Knight,” she said with a resolute smile. “How do you know my brother?”
Knight waited until his soup bowl was cleared and replaced by a dish of poached mackerel garnished with fennel and mint.
“His Grace and I have had some business dealings, my lady,” he said. “I own silk factories in Spitalfields as well as other manufactories in London and beyond.”
That explained his finery. His blue waistcoat had the gleam of first-rate silk.
“Is that how you two gentlemen know one another as well?” She looked from Knight to Wick. “Through business?”
“We’ve had a few interests in common.” Wick’s tone was noncommittal. “What is the purpose of your visit here, Knight?”
Even though Bea wanted to know the same thing, she didn’t appreciate Wick taking the reins from her. This was her home and her guest. She’d made it quite clear that lovemaking changed nothing between them; why did he think he could speak for her?
Just one more reason to end things with him,she thought grimly.
“Whatever the reason,” she said, giving him a quelling look, “friends of my brother are always welcome.”
“That is kind of you, my lady. I do, indeed, have a particular purpose for this visit, and it is perhaps better explained by this.” Removing a note from his coat, Knight presented it to her. “A letter of introduction from His Grace.”
Beatrice ran her thumb over her brother’s seal, her chest tightening with trepidation...and a pang of nostalgia. Inhaling, she broke the wax and scanned the lines written in Benedict’s scrawl:
Beatrice,
I hope enough time has passed for both of us to forgive, if not forget, the words we exchanged at our last meeting. Whatever our differences, we remaining Wodehouses must stick together.
As a gesture of my good will, I send you a gift. Although I can think of few men who are worthy of you, Severin Knight has my full endorsement. Not only because of his wealth and influence, both of which are vast, but because he is a decent fellow, and each of you has something the other needs.
Hear him out, my dear sister. For the sake of your own happiness and the future of our line.
