“There’s my brave little queen.” He tipped her chin up and kissed her with a tenderness that made her heart soar. “When this is over, we will move forward with our future together. You will wait for me?”
“I would wait forever,” she vowed. “I love you, Ben. Be careful and come back to me swiftly.”
26
1843, Country Estate of Beatrice and Wickham Murray
Livy is 13; Ben is 25
“Ihave changed my mind.” Standing on a large rock looking down into the stream, Livy shook her little head, her plaits whirling. “I am not going in.”
“But it is hot out, and the water is refreshing.” It was getting damned cold, actually. Ben had been standing in the chest-deep water for ten minutes, trying to coax the girl in. “And you are wearing your swimming outfit.”
“I don’t care,” Livy said stubbornly. “I will go change.”
“Hadleigh, why don’t you just leave the chit be?”
He turned his head in the direction of Arabella’s sulky tones. His wife was standing by the side of the stream, several yards away from the rock. She was wearing an immaculate white gown that was better suited to a drawing room than a riverside picnic. Even from a distance, he could see the twin lines of annoyance between her brows. Arabella had not wanted to come to his sister’s house party, which she considered too “rusticated.”
Even though he thought it was rather obvious—at least to anyone who cared a whit about him—he had explained to her how important it was for him to make amends to Beatrice. His sister was the only kin he had left, and after what he had done, an invitation from her was nothing short of a miracle. He had thought that Arabella, too, might want to mend fences with Bea, who’d once been her bosom chum. Yet Arabella had remained dead set against attending, and in the end, he’d had to set his foot down.
His duchess had been pouting since they arrived three days ago. She’d been cold and rude to the other guests, which didn’t help his goal of becoming something other thanpersona non gratain his sister’s life. Frustration built in him, a gnawing ache in his chest that never seemed to go away. He had a sudden urge for the opium that he knew Arabella had brought with her, even though he’d instructed her not to. He and his wife had developed too many bad habits, and he wanted to steer their marriage onto a healthier path.
Telling Livy that he would be right back, he strode through the water toward Arabella.
In a low voice, he said, “I am trying to get Olivia into the water because her parents say she hasn’t gone in since the accident, and she used to swim like a fish. If she doesn’t give it a go now, she might have a fear of water for the rest of her life.”
“Why do you care?” Arabella asked coldly.
With her raven curls and emerald eyes, his duchess was a stunning beauty. Yet more and more, he saw the ugliness beneath, and it made him weary. He loved her, yes, but after seven years of marriage, he concluded that he did not like her very much.
Nonetheless, he did not want to give up on the closest relationship he had left. They were stuck with one another for the duration. And he was determined for them to make a go of it.
Thus, he controlled his temper and said, “I care because she is young, and her future should not be shaped by fear. And what if she falls into water again? For her own safety, she should learn to swim.”
“That is utter claptrap,” Arabella retorted. “You only care because you like playing the part of her hero. You like that the girl looks at you like some dewy-eyed mooncalf!”
He shot a look over at Livy, afraid that she’d overheard. Luckily, she was peering up at a vee of flying geese and didn’t seem to be paying attention to his row with his wife.
“Are you mad?” he said in disgust. “For God’s sake, she is thirteen and like a younger sister to me.”
“Maybe if you hadn’t alienated youractualsister, you wouldn’t be so pathetically desperate for more family.”
Incredulity slammed into him, loosening his grip on his temper.
“I would give my soul to undo my sins,” he said with vibrating anger, “but I will not be lectured by you. I think you and I both know that, of the two of us, I am not the only one who has wronged my sister.”
Arabella blanched. He’d never brought up her shameful abandonment of Bea after Bea’s injury. The two had been the best of friends until Bea’s scar had ruined her popularity. Years ago, Bea had tried to tell him that Arabella had, indeed, been behind some of the cruel monikers aimed at Bea, but he had refused to listen. Refused to believe that the woman he loved could be so heartless.
He’d nearly lost his sister because of his stupidity. Paid for it in the years of estrangement between them. Now that Beatrice had given him a second chance, he’d sworn to himself that he would do his best by her…and so would his wife.
“You will be on your best behavior for the duration of this visit,” he clipped out. “No more sulking, no more complaints.”
“I am not a servant, and I will not take orders from you.” Arabella’s face was now red with fury. “You and your sister think you are so much better than me just because my father’s wealth came from trade!”
The accusation was ludicrous. His sister was the least snobby person he knew. Her closest friend was a tinker’s daughter, for God’s sake, and she treated her tenants like they were her family. He, himself, hadn’t given a thought to Arabella’s background when he’d proposed to her. Yet Arabella had a way of twisting things in her mind, and he knew from past experience that he could not sway her from her beliefs. He hated his feeling of helplessness. The impulse to find oblivion, even temporarily, rose within him.
Just then, voices sounded, a group emerging from the woods next to the stream. Ben’s jaw tightened as he recognized his rakehells-in-arms Edgecombe, Thorne, and Bollinger. In the past, he’d done plenty of carousing as part of the Horsemen, but of late he was trying to distance himself. A fresh start for him and Arabella included getting away from corruptive influences.
