“No.” Seeing his scowl she said hastily, “I led Papa to believe that breaking off the engagement was my choice. I didn’t tell anyone at the time…it was too mortifying.”
Shehadtold Benedict about it, but that had been years later. Too late to change anything, to do anything except stir up bitterness and anger. To cause the chasm that separated them to this day.
“Youhave naught to be embarrassed about. Your ex-fiancé and so-called friend are the ones who deserve to be shamed for their despicable behavior.” Wick curled a finger beneath her chin, making her look into his steady gaze. “I wish you hadn’t felt like you had to keep their ugly secret, but I am honored that you told me.”
Her throat thickened. No one had seen her so clearly before. No man had ever just listened, without trying to fix or change her. She didn’t know how to react to the novel feeling: of being exposed yet protected at the same time.
Then his hand moved from her chin to her right cheek. When his thumb brushed the top of her scar, she froze. A part of her wanted to pull away, to dissolve into the darkness of the garden. Another part of her waited, suspended in viscous longing.
“How did this happen?” he asked softly.
His thumb traced the path of her scar. His touch was so casual and gentle that heat pressed behind her eyes. And the past, long buried, surfaced.
“I was riding…in Hyde Park,” she said haltingly. “There was a man. He was beating a boy, a street urchin whom he said had stolen his purse. The boy ran, and the man went after him with a whip. I tried to stop him. But he frightened Star, my mare, and I was thrown. Star reared again, and her hoof came down…”
Her throat clenched, that moment swamping her, that moment she’d thought would be her last.
“The physician said I was lucky. I could have been trampled to death,” she finished hollowly.
In the months that followed, she’d questioned if shehadbeen lucky. If the alternative wouldn’t have been better than the slow death of having her life, her family, and herself fall apart in small, brittle pieces.
“My brave angel, look at me.” He waited until her eyes returned to his. “Youwerelucky.”
“Lucky to be Lady Beastly?” She couldn’t keep the bitterness from her tone.
“Lucky to be alive. To survive and become the woman you are today.” The warmth in his eyes was as mesmerizing as his touch, tracing upward now along her knitted flesh. “This scar is a part of you. Because of that, it is beautiful. Because beautiful, Lady Beatrice, is all you could ever be.”
Tears spilled. She could no longer hold them back. When he took out a handkerchief, blotting away the dampness on her cheeks, hope broke free, its wings beating inside her heart.
“I acted like a troglodyte earlier,” he commented. “I’m not going to apologize for it.”
“Why not?” she asked with a sniffle.
“Because you ought to know the man who’s courting you.” He folded the square of linen, returning it to his pocket. “I’m a gentleman when it comes to most things, but I will not tolerate another man trying to poach what’s mine.”
His possessiveness ought to have annoyed her. She tried to summon up some sort of indignation but gave up when she realized the truth: what she truly felt was…wanted.
“You’re courting me?” she blurted.
“Since you won’t accept my offer of marriage, that seems like the next best option,” he said pragmatically. “Perhaps it is for the best. This way, we can get to know one another better, and you can reach the inevitable conclusion in your own time.”
She drew her brows together. “What inevitable conclusion?”
“That we, angel, are meant to be together.”
She couldn’t look away from the mesmerizing conviction in his eyes. When a man looked at a woman like that, it could turn her brain to mush. But she was made of sterner stuff.
“What about your railway and my land?”
“We’ll come to a compromise.”
“What if we can’t?”
“We will,” he said firmly. “With your permission, I’d like to send for my surveyor, Mr. Norton. He’ll evaluate your land and figure out a way to run the railway without disturbing the farms.”
“And if he cannot find a way?” she persisted.
“Then you’ll keep your land and I’ll figure out another plan.” He toyed with a ringlet at her temple, his tone earnest. “There are legal protections you can take to prevent your land from becoming mine when we marry. I’m willing to sign whatever you want. I will not take your estate from you, Beatrice. If you decide to participate in the railway venture, it will be your choice.”
