“I’ll try.”
“Promise.”
“I promise I’ll try.”
And then before he could continue the argument, she opened the door to her room. The last thing she heard as she slammed the door behind her was a frustrated “Pip….”
Pip hadn’t even drawn breath before Joyful stepped out of the dressing room, a handkerchief in her hand. Of course, she had heard every word. Of course, she also knew how Pip had always felt about Beau.
“Wash your face,” she said, handing over the handkerchief for the tears that made Pip even angrier than Beau’s rejection. “Don’ let that man see he upsets you. He don’ deserve to know. Somethin’ to remember, though. He wouldn’t be so upset he didn’t feel so strong.” Her deep brown eyes were unflinching as she very deliberately set her hands on her hips. “About you.”
“He’s going to set me aside.” And take away what purpose she’d thought she had discovered in her life.
Joyful just shrugged. “We’ll see.”
And then she just walked back into the dressing room to pull out the dress they had chosen for dinner, a delicious emerald sarcenet with a soft gold net overlay and gold acanthas leaf embroidery around the low neckline and hem. Pip loved that dress. It made her feel worthy of Beau’s attention.
Not today. Today she knew better.
For a long moment Pip just stood by the door and listened to the silence out in the hall and wished she had never come to this house party. She wished she had someone she could talk to, just to set straight every confusing twist in her life in the last few days. Just to roundly vilify her brand-new husband where it was safe, where Perfect Pamela would not hear of it, where she could scream like a banshee.
Tomorrow she could get in touch with Lizzie. Tonight, she had only herself and her maid.
She had felt so good, so briefly. She and Macha had torn over the hills like furies, tossing up clods of dirt, the wind whipping through hair, the thick autumn clouds matching her mood. She had run fast before the turmoil back in that little house and thought for just a moment she had run free of it there where no one could catch her. Not traitors, not Rakes, not Beau. She could believe for those moments she had had Macha in her hands, that she might be able to gain control of her life. She was a married woman. She was married to the man she had long dreamed to be hers. She was smart and strong and determined. Surely, she could find a way to navigate this marriage. Surely, she would finally have a place to call her own.
She should have known better.
And then she had remembered that last bit of conversation from the night before and turned Macha back just in time to hear Beau’s real plan. The clunch. The dunderhead.
The coward.
She sighed, knowing that was one accusation too many. Beau was not a coward. He was heartsore, and she was the reminder he couldn’t escape. And in his own dunderheaded way, he really was trying to protect her. So, she walked over to wash her face and hands and change into the lovely emerald gown and drag a comb through the hair tangled by the wind so that she at least looked presentable before the staff. She knew it wouldn’t matter if she looked presentable to her husband. He was probably still outside the door casting aspersions on her good character because she had failed to warn him about the limitations of the honeymoon house he had failed to tell her about. Oh, dinner ought to be delightful.
* * *
Beau stoodin the hallway for long minutes just staring at the shut bedroom door trying to understand why he was so angry at Pip. No, he admitted. He was angry at himself. None of this was her fault. He had no right to inflict the kind of turmoil he had just seen in those honest blue eyes. He had hurt her without meaning to. He had pushed her away instead of holding her up. Instead of saying thank you for your help, Pip.
He needed to explain his reasoning better. He had to make her understand that she would be better off without the anchor he would become. The ghost, more accurately. She deserved a husband, not a man obsessed with vengeance. Not a shell whose real heart lay in the soil of France. He had to make her see that.
Funny thing about that. Just the thought of pushing her away ignited a new, deep, sharp pain in his chest, as if someone had snuck up on him and shoved a knife deep into him, deep enough to drain out what life force was left to him. Deep enough so that he suspected he wouldn’t survive it.
It was for her own good, he insisted to himself, standing stock still in the middle of the scarred old floor waiting for Pip to emerge from her room. It wasn’t that he didn’t have the courage to face the possibility of losing her like Theo.
And that quickly he managed a rueful grin, though even that hurt, at the thought of her unflinching declaration that put him quite in his place. In the servants’ quarters, no doubt. God, if only he were the man she needed. If only he still had any life left in him.
If only he had the gall to try another kiss and see where it led.
He couldn’t believe it. Just the thought made him have to readjust his trousers yet again. He shook his head. The next five days were going to be a lot more difficult than they should have been.
He was just about to tap on the door when it opened, and he was facing Pip’s maid, the scowling woman who stood nearly as tall as he did. This time, though, she said not a word. Just took a hard look at him, another down at his betraying trousers, shook her head, and strode by him. He would have said something, except just then Pip followed her out the door, her demeanor composed and polite. And damn it, if just her restraint, her great blue eyes and body lusciously revealed in that emerald green and gold gown didn’t set his cock to stirring in response all over again. Dammit if she didn’t see it before he could do anything about it. Damn it if she didn’t scowl at him as well, daring him to deny his reaction, daring him to forget what had happened just minutes before.
“Shall I meet you in the parlor?” she asked in deliberately even tones. “There is hot water in the pitcher.” She took another considered look back down to where his trousers still betrayed his arousal. “There is cold water in the bathing room.”
All he could do was nod. He couldn’t even manage to remind her that she had once again started things with that kiss. It didn’t matter, really. It would have taken another half a minute for him to act himself.
All he could do right now was stand there watching as she nodded and turned for the stairs.
“Remember,” he said before she could leave. “It isn’t enough that we know we haven’t been intimate. Everyone must. We must have witnesses if we are to pull this off. I am determined to keep you safe while we see to things.”
