“It’s not that I don’t feel like it.”
The misery on her face made his chest clench. “What is it then? You can talk to me.”
“I can’t…oh, dash it. It’s that time. Of month.”
Understanding flooded him. Sothatwas what had ruffled his little termagant. With his knowledge of female biology, he ought to have guessed, but the truth was the topic had never come up with past lovers. His partners had all been experienced; he’d assumed that they kept track of such things and simply didn’t schedule rendezvous during those times. Whatever the case, they’d never discussed such intimate feminine matters with him.
That Beatrice was doing so filled him with tender amusement.
Lips twitching, he said, “You have an inconvenient visitor, do you?”
“I discovered it as I was changing for bed,” she said in a small voice. “It doesn’t last long. Usually three days or so.”
He hugged her close, kissing the top of her head. “Then we’ll do something else instead.”
“You’re staying?” She angled her head to look at him.
He raised his brows. “Unless you’re kicking me out.”
“No, I’d like for you to stay.” Her smile was shy, unbearably sweet. “I like being with you, like this.”
Christ, he liked it too. He’d spent a fair amount of time in bed with lovers, but never time spent not fucking. There hadn’t been a woman whom he’d wanted to just talk to and cuddle with…until Beatrice.
“I like it too,” he said honestly.
“Even though we’re just talking?”
“Especially because we’re talking,” he told her. “I want to know you, angel, and not just in the biblical sense.”
Cheeks rosy, she asked, “What would you like to know?”
“You haven’t said much about your family.”
Once again, she stiffened, and he wasn’t surprised. He suspected that all was not well in the familial realm. Why else would her kin allow her, a vibrant woman, to live like a hermit? When she’d briefly spoken of her father, her expression had grown distant…as if she were barricading herself off from pain. It was the same expression she’d worn when Knighton had brought up her brother’s name.
“There isn’t much to say.” A wall of remoteness rose in her eyes. “My papa died about a year after my accident, my mama soon thereafter.”
“What about your brother?”
“He and I are…not close.”
Feeling her retreat farther, he switched to a different strategy.
“Are you far apart in age?” he asked conversationally. “My brother Richard is older than I am by seven years, and I think that age difference caused a rift between us for a time.”
“Benedict is a year younger.” Her brows drew together. “What kind of a rift?”
He hesitated because he wasn’t used to talking about his past. One of the primary principles of negotiation wasquid pro quo,however. She’d shared about her scar; it was only fair that he should divulge some of his own unpleasant history. The difference was, of course, that she’d done nothing to deserve what had happened to her whereas he’d been the architect of his own downfall.
“Truthfully? One caused by my stupidity,” he said baldly. “In my younger days, I was an arrogant, reckless fool. You couldn’t tell me anything because I knew it all. I got myself into debt with a moneylender and even more serious trouble. When Richard tried to help me, I took out my anger and frustration on him.”
“Why did you do that?” Her tone held no judgement, only curiosity. “Didn’t you know that he was trying to help you?”
“I knew.” Even after a decade, that time in his life—who he’d been—shamed him. “I was just too proud to admit that I was a failure. I’d always looked up to Richard, you see. He was the dutiful son, the one that our father was proud of and rightly so. When I ended up discharging my debt to Garrity, the moneylender, by working for him, Richard did not condemn my choice. Instead, he told me that an honorable man always pays his debts, and he has stood by me, through thick and thin. He even manages to be civil to Garrity—who, by the by, founded GLNR and invited me and our other partner, Harry Kent, to join the company.”
When she remained silent, he felt a stab of concern. Had he revealed too much? He hadn’t shared the worst of his sins…not by a long shot. A wise negotiator always began by testing the waters. Working for a usurer wasn’t exactly a noble pastime, yet he’d never regretted his sojourn in the underclass. It had cured him of his pride and arrogance and given him the skills to make his own way in the world.
But Beatrice, with her distinguished pedigree, might not see it that way. Although his own bloodline and money allowed him to move within theton, there were the sticklers who looked down their noses at him because of his past profession—or for having any profession at all. He’d learned not to give a damn what they thought, but what Beatrice thought mattered.
