“You know of him?”
“My partner, Harry Kent, who oversees the technological aspects of GLNR was quite interested in one of Grigg’s innovations. Grigg designed a prototype for a coal drop…essentially a warehouse with a railway running over it so that the train can dump the coal directly into the building. Quite clever, really; there’s a model operating now near Regent’s Canal, although Grigg died before he could see his plan come into fruition…”
Wick trailed off, recalling the rest of Grigg’s story. The man had been a rising star of industry, a middle class businessman poised for great success. Then his fortunes radically turned.
“After Papa’s death, Benedict came into the title.” Beatrice continued her tale in a hollow voice. “He was barely eighteen at the time, immature yet full of pride. He used his influence to ruin Grigg’s business. As it turned out, those lordling friends of Benedict were well connected. All it took was the right whispers in the right ears in the right clubs. Grigg’s investors fled, banks called in his loans, even some of his patents were overturned. It got so bad that…” Her throat worked. “Grigg hung himself.”
“Bloody hell.”
“I couldn’t be around Benedict any longer, so I purchased Camden Manor. Shortly after he came into the title, he got married…to Arabella, the girl who I’d thought was a friend but who I’d overheard calling me Lady Beastly. She has brought out the worst in him. Five years ago, Benedict and I got into an argument, and I told him what I’d heard her say about me to my ex-fiancé, and he accused me of making it up. Said I was jealous of her. And he called me…”
He stroked her hair. “What did he say, angel?”
“He called me…” Her voice cracked. “The destroyer of happiness.”
Seeing anguish darken her beautiful eyes, Wick wanted to punch her idiotic brother. It took all his willpower to keep his voice gentle. “You didn’t destroy anyone’s happiness—hedid, the foolish bastard. You bear no fault in any of this.”
She looked as if she might say something more. But she only bit her lip.
Knowing her tender heart, he asked, “Do you miss him, angel?”
“He’s my brother, the only kin I have left.” She heaved out a breath. “At the same time, I want to wring his neck. That sounds absurd, doesn’t it?”
“That sounds like family. But he’s not your only kin.”
Her brow puckered. “He isn’t?”
“There’s the family you’re born with, and the family you choose. And you, angel, have created your own clan here at Camden Manor. The Sheridans, the Ellerbys, the rest of your tenants—they understand how special you are and, because of that, they deserve a place in your life. Hadleigh, it seems to me, has yet to earn that privilege.”
She stared at him as if he’d hung the moon in the sky for her. And, devil and damn, he’d give her the sun and stars as well just to have that look from her. A look that filled that empty well inside him, replaced loneliness with something beautiful and rare.
“How did you become so wise, Wick?” she said softly.
He gave her the truth. “By making mistakes and earning my privileges.”
16
Beatrice opened her eyes.She was lying in bed facing Wick. They must have fallen asleep this way, curled together like a pair of quotation marks or two children sharing secrets deep into the night. The watery light that slipped in through the curtains suggested it was early yet, and she wanted to let Wick sleep on.
Quietly, she eased from the bed and went to use the necessary.
When she rejoined her dozing lover, she curled on her side to face him. He was absurdly attractive, even in slumber. A wave of hair lay over his brow, his lashes thick against his cheeks. A night beard shaded his jaw and drew attention to the sensual shape of his lips. Through the vee of his sleep shirt, she saw the taut, hair-dusted planes of his chest.
He was a beautiful man and not just on the outside. Last night, she’d told him things she’d never shared with anyone. Goodness, she’d even told him about herflux. Yet he made it easy to let down her guard. He listened and understood, sometimes questioned or teased. What he never did was judge.
With Wick, her secrets felt safe.Shefelt safe.
The currents of trust flowed in both directions. For he carried his own hurts from the past and was unpacking them with her bit by bit. It seemed impossible that a man with his looks and accomplishments could have any insecurities at all, but when he’d talked about his younger self and his older brother, she’d heard his self-doubts. Knowing that he, too, was subject to human frailties made her feel even closer to him.
A tender spasm hit her heart.I care about him. So very much.
The realization was thrilling and terrifying at once. In a week and a half, Wick had slipped through defenses she’d spent years building as easily as he’d scaled her garden wall. And what she felt was not the tendre of a girl—that first blush attraction she’d had for Croydon—but something far deeper. Something that the woman she was now hadn’t thought she would ever feel.
Wick had convinced her that he was attracted to her, that his courtship wasn’t just based on honor. But did his feelings go beyond sexual desire? Might he someday come to…care for her?
Yearning made her reach out and curve her palm around his jaw. The abrasion of his virile scruff made her skin tingle. She explored gently so as not to awaken him. She feathered a fingertip over the firm seam of his lips, the strong line of his chin. He murmured sleepily, and she grew bolder, sliding her hand into the opening of his shirt.
His chest was hard and warm, his vitality thrumming beneath her palm. She enjoyed the contrasting textures of his chest hair and taut skin. With her index finger, she traced the flat disk of his nipple until it pebbled. She wondered if that part of him was as sensitive as the corresponding part of her. Indeed, her breasts were extra sensitive during her menstrual cycle, the tips budded and throbbing against her nightgown. Her gaze drifted downward, and her breath caught at the jutting bulge of his manhood. His cock was a huge, thick bar pressing against the fine linen.
