Bea had briefly considered going to her brother—who, given his vendetta against Grigg, probably had some information—yet she decided against it. What if Benedict decided to take matters into his own hands? Knowing him, he might try to destroy this new villain, without even recognizing that this present situation was the result of his need for vengeance.
She quaked, thinking of the havoc her brother could wreak. She couldn’t risk it. Better to wait a few days for a professional investigator to find the answers.
If only Benedict had left Grigg alone, she thought with despair.If only I hadn’t interfered with Grigg’s beating of that boy…yet how could I see such cruelty happening and do nothing?
She rubbed the heels of her hands over her eyes. Lord, she needed more sleep. Why had Wick awakened her so early? From the light he was letting stream into the room, the day was in its infancy. And it wasn’t as if they had to worry about the servants: his valet was as discreet as Lisette and wouldn’t blink to find Beatrice in his master’s bed.
Wick must have read her expression correctly for he sat on the mattress beside her, stroking a tendril from her cheek. “Sorry to wake you, love, when I’m responsible for depriving you of sleep.”
She felt her cheeks grow hot. Under the cover of night, it had been easy to abandon herself to the eroticism of their lovemaking. Now, with everything else stirred up inside her, she felt intensely self-conscious. As if a layer of skin had been ripped off, leaving her raw and exposed.
She smiled to cover her discomfiture. “Is there a reason for being up at this ungodly hour?”
“I’m afraid there is.”
Wick wasn’t the sort to dissemble. He usually delivered news, good or bad, in a straightforward manner. Therefore, his hesitation heightened her feeling of unease.
“What’s happened?” Scenarios flooded her brain. “Did someone discover we were at the club? Dear God, did something happen at my estate—”
“No, angel. Nothing like that. It’s not bad news…”
“What is it then?” she said in a rush.
“It’s my mama.” Wary lines carved into his handsome face. “I received word that she’ll be arriving here today.”
* * *
“MydarlingWickham. Since you haven’t come to see me in ages, my naughty boy, I had to come to you!”
As Wick dutifully accepted his mama’s embrace in the drawing room later that morning, Beatrice stayed back with Violet, quietly observing. The Dowager Viscountess Carlisle was a striking woman. She was probably in her sixties, but her carefully maintained complexion and figure took decades off her appearance. She’d blessed Wick with her coloring and bone structure and perhaps his innate elegance also came from her: she looked effortlessly chic in an emerald carriage dress with a Chinoiserie border, her golden-brown hair a shining chignon beneath the sweeping brim of her hat.
After giving Wick a thorough inspection—peppered with comments that he looked “tired” and “ought to try that new eye cream” she’d brought with her—she turned to her eldest son.
“Carlisle,” she said with a brittle smile. “I didn’t see you standing there.”
Since Carlisle had been standing next to Wick the entire time, his brawny figure rather hard to miss, Beatrice couldn’t help but wonder at the dowager’s comment.
“Don’t mind her,” Violet muttered under her breath. “I never do. But poor Richard—he’s always been subject to her blasted games. She plays favorites, even with our boys. If she had her way, she’d spoil Wickham—ours and yours—rotten.”
While not dutiful, Violet’s comment seemed at least accurate.
“Mama, I’d like to introduce you to my friend,” Wick was saying.
“Is that her, standing by…Violet, my dear.” The dowager glided over. “I was momentarily blinded by the brightness of your gown and didn’t realize it was you.”
Bea thought that Violet’s sunflower yellow morning dress set off the other’s brunette coloring beautifully. Vi had no outward response to her mama-in-law’s barbed comment, leaning in to exchange air kisses with the lady.
“Good morning, Mama,” she said brightly. “Perhaps you ought to have your eyes checked while you’re in Town? Overlooking Carlisle, being blinded by my dress…those could be symptoms of weakening vision in your dotage, you know.”
Carlisle cleared his throat, obviously trying to smother a laugh.
“There is nothing wrong with my vision,” the dowager hissed.
“Spectacles are quite fashionable nowadays,” Vi said with an innocent expression. “Many of the older set carry them as accessories.”
The dowager drew up her shoulders, pointedly walking past her daughter-in-law to pause in front of Beatrice. “Wickham, dearest, introduce me to your…friend.”
As Wick made the introductions, Bea felt his mother’s gaze sweep over her. Since she had been observing the dowager since her arrival, she knew that the other had been observing her in return. This meant that Wick’s mama had had plenty of time to see Bea’s scar. Plenty of time to school her reaction.
