Page 11 of Memories Made At Midnight (Chronicles of the Westbrook Brides #9)

Sussex Square ~ Kempton

FIVE DAYS LATER ~ ALMOST TEN IN THE MORNING

S ighing, Cassius finished his coffee, then set the empty cup on a nearby side table.

Beatrice had missed her last sitting.

As he scraped a hand through his already tousled hair, concern for her chafed him. Particularly after she’d disclosed that Highbury might have found a potential husband for her right here in Brighton.

Her note explaining her absence informed him Millborn ailed and it wouldn’t be proper for Beatrice to come for a sitting without a chaperone. She would come today instead.

A reasonable excuse. And yet, Cassius couldn’t help but wonder if her uncle meant to force her into a union with this unnamed man, thereby forgoing the need to finish the painting.

He’d taken it upon himself to snoop around The Old Ship Hotel to see if he could discover who the potential suitor was. However, he lacked his brother Lucius’s and cousin Torrian’s sleuthing skills, and his questions only earned him skeptically raised eyebrows and uncooperative frowns from the staff and patrons.

He sent another fretful glance to the studio’s front window.

Sun glistened off the ocean, a perfect backdrop to the clear sapphire sky.

No shiny burgundy coach trundled down the cobbled lane. Interesting that Highbury chose such an arresting color for his conveyance rather than the typical noble black preferred by most peers.

Exhaling a deep breath, Cassius scratched his neck as his attention dropped to the letters that had arrived yesterday. He’d wanted to charge straight to Highbury House and share the contents with Beatrice, but wisdom and prudence warned him not to.

Instead, he’d penned letters to his father and Adolphus, asking them to come to Brighton at their earliest convenience. Not only was the Earl of Highbury in debt up to his perfectly starched and tied neckcloth, but he was also on the verge of bankruptcy.

The earl must not learn what Cassius had discovered until he was positive Beatrice was safe. And at present, he didn’t believe she was, though he wouldn’t want to alarm her unnecessarily.

From the moment he’d met the Earl of Highbury, Cassius suspected something about the man was off, but had dismissed his initial aversion as being unfair and judgmental.

Next time, Cassius would listen to his gut instinct.

Regardless, if Beatrice didn’t come for her sitting today, Cassius would contrive an excuse to either call at Highbury House or send a note around asking her to meet him at The Chapel Royal, where he attended Sunday services—mainly because that was where his parents went when in Brighton.

A guinea greasing a palm would ensure discreet delivery of the missive without the earl’s knowledge.

At last, Highbury’s gleaming coach drew to a halt before his studio, and he released a sigh of relief.

Beatrice emerged from the carriage’s interior, and not waiting for Hampton to hand her down, gracefully hopped onto the pavement.

Millborn did not appear in the doorway.

Nala bounded from the conveyance and with a happy woof, darted through the studio’s open door to give Cassius an excited greeting.

“Hello, girl.” He rubbed her ears.

Beatrice lifted Teddy, and holding him to her chest with one arm, shaded her eyes with her other hand as she glanced upward at Hampton.

“Return at the usual time, please.”

“Your uncle bid me fetch you home at 1:00 today, Miss.” Hampton’s weathered features crumpled into an apologetic smile.

“He did?” Confusion whisked across her pretty face. “Did he say why?”

The driver shook his head. “No, Miss.”

“Very well.” She produced a sunny smile. “I shall see you then.”

Did Beatrice realize she rarely stuttered when her uncle wasn’t present?

She entered the studio, and her chest rose with the deep breath she took.

“Good morning, Beatrice.”

Cassius drank her in, his jaded soul parched and dry.

A long time ago, before he’d hardened his heart, he might have had room in it for her.

“Good morning.” She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the darker interior. She gave a little sniff. “I like the smell of your studio, Lord Cassius.”

Unusual, but it made him glad.

“I hoped that by now you would call me Cassius, Beatrice.”

He stroked Nala’s broad head.

Eyes half-closed, and leaning into his thigh, the large dog gave a contented sigh.

“I vow, she has fallen in love with you…Cassius.”

Stupid though it was, his soul soared when Beatrice complied with his simple request.

Teddy wiggled in her arms, and she put him down. “This chap as well.”

The one-eyed dog made straight for Cassius and demanded a pet too.

After Cassius picked him up and gave him a hearty greeting, he strode toward Beatrice.

“No Millborn today?” He tried not to stare as she untied her silk cloak and her glorious hair billowed around her slender shoulders.

Upon seeing the angry yellowish-green bruises on her upper arms, he clenched his jaw.

Fiend seize it !

How had she come by the marks?

Had Highbury resorted to physical brutality?

By God, the cur had better not have.

“No.” Despair tightened the corners of Beatrice’s face and drew her pretty mouth downward. “Her health has not improved. In truth, I fear her condition worsens. The cough has settled in her chest, and she has become so weak, she cannot leave her bed.”

She managed a sad, nascent smile, and Cassius’s heart flopped over.

“She’s been my companion since childhood,” Beatrice said. “And I confess that I’m afraid for her.”

No doubt for herself as well.

Surely she suffered from loneliness, and the potential loss of her companion must weigh heavily upon her.

He’d have to be blind not to notice.

“Has a physician been to see her?” If not, Cassius would arrange for one to do so promptly.

“Yes.” Beatrice nodded before drifting farther into the room, then pulling a face. “The old quack merely prescribed a tonic, which smelled mostly of alcohol and laudanum. I’ve been putting poultices on Millborn’s chest and having her drink eucalyptus tea to help break up the congestion, but neither appears to be helping.”

“I have a doctor friend, Lawrence Lancaster, in Brighton,” Cassius said. “He works at Sussex County Hospital and is trained in all the newest methodologies. I shall ask him to look in on her.”

“Would you?” Such appreciation shone in Beatrice’s eyes that it momentarily took his breath away. “I would appreciate it ever so much.”

“I’m surprised your uncle permitted you to come today without a chaperone.” In point of fact, that wasn’t entirely true. Nothing Highbury did would surprise Cassius after what he’d recently learned about the unscrupulous earl.

Expression shuttered, Beatrice firmed her lips into a tight ribbon.

“He’s quite angry with me. I don’t think he gives two farthings about my reputation anymore.” She lifted a shoulder, a tiny triumphant smile touching the corners of her mouth. “I rejected the man he chose for me to marry.”

Cassius shouldn’t care a jot, so why did he want to whoop for joy?

“Oh?” Resting his hips on his desk, he folded his arms, resisting the temptation to draw her into his embrace and tell her how proud he was of her for standing up to her bully of an uncle. “Why do I think there is more to the story?”

Her lips twitched. “Nala might have bitten Mr. Dungworth on the bottom.”

“Dung—?” Cassius choked on a guffaw. “ Dungworth ?”

“Indeed, of Dungworth and Babinet Leatherworks.” She wrinkled her nose. “And his breath smelled of horse manure.” A giggle escaped her; an unfettered expression of joy. “I also slapped him for trying to force a kiss on me, and Teddy bit his calf.”

Ire, unlike anything Cassius had ever experienced, burned through his veins. Was that blackguard the reason for the bruises on her arms? Mustering calm he was far from feeling, he gave an approving nod.

“Bravo Teddy and Nala, and well done you!”

At once dismay transformed Beatrice’s features.

She met Cassius’s eyes, despair in hers. “He was a horrid man with an equally horrid mother. They smelled as if they’d never touched a bar of soap in their lives. What is more, they expected me to rub her bunions and gouty feet and legs every night.”

Shock rendered him speechless for an instant as he tried to digest that bit of offensiveness. “Surely not.”

“Moreover, they detest dogs. I’m positive Mr. Dungworth would not have permitted me my pets had I accepted his oafish offer. Not that I considered it at all.” She shook her head, that curtain of burnished gold and copper, swaying about her shoulders. “Uncle has barely spoken to me since. Except to say we are back to the original plan.”

She slid a glance at the covered canvas.

“Which is that once I finish the miniature, he’ll journey to London to find a husband for you.” His stomach having gone sour, Cassius set Teddy down.

“Yes.” Beatrice no longer sounded defeated, but simply resigned to the facts.

She cocked her head.

“Cassius, may I ask you something personal?”

“Why is it I think you will whether I agree or not?” Enjoying their banter, he permitted a teasing smile. “You may, but I don’t have to answer.”

“Ah, you are being sly.” She shook a finger at him, laughter dancing in her eyes. “Let me rephrase, then. Will you answer a personal question?”

He should say no, but even as the thought shot through his mind, Cassius nodded.

“If you could change anything about your life and experiences, what would it be?”

Zounds, Beatrice went straight to the core of things, didn’t she?

Neck bent, he cupped his nape and considered her question.

“My first instinct is to wish I had never met Constanza.”

How many times had he said those very words?

“It would’ve saved me untold heartache, but when I reflect on my journey as an artist, I don’t believe I would be where I am today had I not had that experience.” He shrugged. “Time might not heal all wounds, but it does smooth out the edges and creates a buffer so one can go on and be happy.”

“ Are you happy?” Beatrice searched his face with those enormous hazel eyes.

What did she seek?

“That’s two questions, snoopy miss.” He held up two fingers. “My turn.”

Shaking her head, unease replacing her earlier comradery, Beatrice retreated a couple of paces. “I didn’t agree?—”

“Do not tell me you don’t play fair, Beatrice Fairfax.” Grinning, Cassius leaned forward. “Tit for tat. What’s good for the goose is good for the gander. Turnabout is fair play.”

“ Hmph .” Arms folded, she pressed her pretty lips together. “Very well, but I shall not promise to answer if you are too prying.”

“I’ll ask you the same question you asked me.” Cassius was genuinely curious about her response. “If you could change anything about your life, what would it be?”

A faraway look entered her eyes as she stared out the window. “That my mother had lived.”

Cassius had expected her to answer that she’d been born legitimate.

His heart twinged with compassion.

He’d grown up with supportive, doting, loving parents.

Beatrice knew nothing of that kind of unconditional love.

She also wouldn’t be in the precarious position she found herself in today had she not been orphaned at a young age and left in the Earl of Highbury’s questionable care.

Sadness shadowed the smile she summoned. “I suppose we ought to start. Hampton is returning an hour early today, although I don’t know why.”

Hopefully not another attempt by her blackguard uncle to introduce Beatrice to a potential suitor.

“Yes, well. Before we get to that, Beatrice, I have news for you.”

Her hazel eyes widened. “Oh?”

“I received letters from my father and brothers yesterday.” Cassius picked up a short stack of missives from his desk.

He lifted the first.

“Adolphus recommends investing in shipping, trade, and textiles. No surprise there. He owns a ship, and he’s open to discussing a venture with you.”

“He is?” Excitement lit Beatrice’s face. “That would be wonderful.”

“Indeed.” Cassius tossed the first letter on the desk and waved another folded rectangle. “Fletcher suggests investing in real estate and, though in their infancy, railways.”

“Railways?” Beatrice touched a slender finger to her dimpled chin. “I’ve never seen a train. Do you suppose they will grow in popularity? I imagine they would be quite useful for transporting goods.”

Cassius shrugged. “I’m not certain I’m altogether keen on tracks cutting through landscapes, affecting agriculture and wildlife, or the noise and polluted air they would cause. But I am pragmatic and suspect railways are the way of the future for products and passengers.”

“Yes, I think you may be right.” Setting aside her cloak, she nodded. “That is, if I can invest my inheritance. I’m positive that my uncle shall not wait until I’m five and twenty. He is desperate to be rid of me. I fear he may try to force me to wed, by fair means or foul.”

Face flushed, she laced her fingers together, but Cassius saw her trembling hands.

“Bollocks to that!”

He slapped his thigh with his free hand with such vehemence that she jumped.

Nala’s ears perked up, and she gazed at him, her brown eyes worried.

“I don’t know precisely why your uncle is rushing you down the aisle.” Tension thrummed through his veins as Cassius lifted the last letter. “However, Father uncovered some very interesting information regarding your trust and inheritance.”

Beatrice raised her red-blonde eyebrows, a glimmer of hope lighting her eyes. “Such as?”

“Perhaps you should sit down.” Cassius motioned toward the settee.

Her eyebrows rose higher on her forehead, and she jutted out that adorable, stubborn chin.

“Have you learned nothing about me, Lord Cassius Westbrook? I am not a wilting flower who will swoon or give into hysterics.”

A reluctant grin twitched the corners of his mouth. “No, you most certainly are not.”

She glanced out the large front window and smiled when she spotted two young women walking past.

Their eyes rounded, and they waved at her.

Beatrice returned their friendly greeting before they dipped their heads together, no doubt speaking about her.

“Friends of yours?” Cassius came to stand beside her.

“Yes. Esme Dawkins and Charlotte Hawthorne.” She twirled a lock of hair. “In truth, my only friends in Brighton. I told them you are painting my portrait and the reason. They sympathize with my plight, but as the daughter of a local vicar and granddaughter to a widow, they have no means to assist me.”

Nor would they dare cross the earl.

There was more to the devious man than his immaculate grooming and noble fa?ade. It seems Highbury had a reputation for assuring he had his way.

Turning away from the window, Beatrice cocked her head. “So what did the duke discover? I assume Hargreaves & Drummond Solicitors was a successful lead?”

Cassius tried to subdue the consternation he was certain Beatrice could see on his face. What he had to say would alarm her—probably frighten her as well. He cupped her shoulders. It was bold and mad of him, but he needed to assure her with more than mere words.

He was here for her—would champion and protect her.

“More so than you could imagine, Beatrice.”

Her eyes clear and guileless, she searched his face. “Now I am most curious.”

How to tell her?

He clenched his jaw for half a second.

Straightforward and direct.

That was what she would want.

“Beatrice, you were to come into your inheritance either when you married or when you turned one and twenty. Whichever came first. You’ve been eligible to claim your funds for some time now.”