Page 19 of Memories Made At Midnight (Chronicles of the Westbrook Brides #9)

Still in The South Pennines hunting lodge

EVENING THAT SAME DAY

S itting on the horse blankets and propped up against the fireplace hearth, Beatrice sipped her fourth cup of tepid stinging nettle tea and tried not to notice the plump spider perched on a corner web. She couldn’t say she enjoyed the earthy, grassy taste, but the brew contained a faint, unexpected sweetness, making it slightly more palatable.

The tea seemed to help her symptoms too.

Cassius had extinguished the tiny fire immediately after heating water for her tea, explaining they couldn’t risk someone seeing the smoke.

Throughout the day, she’d gradually improved to the point she’d finally convinced Cassius that she would not cock up her toes any minute. Frowning in disapproval, he’d allowed her to sit up and don her borrowed gown, though her bare toes peeked at her from beneath the hem.

Her stomach growled, but she tried to ignore the gnawing hunger.

They had no food left.

He’d given each dog a piece of bread and a handful of blackberries.

Teddy and Nala gobbled the small fare as if starving, and Beatrice’s heart ached for them. Both had known deprivation before, and she had promised they never would again. She’d failed them in that regard.

If Cassius hadn’t watched her like a hawk, she would’ve sneaked her piece of bread, slice of cheese, and handful of blackberries to the dogs, but he’d made certain she’d eaten every crumb and every juicy berry. She was grateful, for the small meal had fortified her, and though far from well, she felt markedly better. Enough to experience chagrin for hurling herself into his arms, wearing nothing but a thin, cotton shift.

Teddy’s tummy growled and guilt pierced her.

She ought to have considered what her flight from Brighton would cost her beloved pets. Had she planned better, they might not be in these dire circumstances. But how could she have planned something that came about on the spur of the moment? And how could she have predicted she’d fall ill?

Beatrice’s ruminating brought her train of thought to her other pets. She had every confidence that Hans would care for them. Still, Uncle Cedric might question the lad. Of course, Hans knew nothing, but Uncle Cedric could be unpredictable.

She shifted, laying her left ankle across her right. Though she’d folded the blankets into quarters, the floor proved uncomfortable.

Cassius stood at the entrance, one arm raised and resting against the rough wood frame. Exhaustion fairly radiated from him, detectable in his slightly slumped shoulders and bowed neck.

He’s exhausted because of me .

To Beatrice’s knowledge, he hadn’t slept for more than a few minutes at a time since they hightailed it from Brighton. How he stayed awake, let alone stood, was beyond her.

Remorse castigated her.

She’d put him in danger, much more so with her inability to travel.

With his back to her, Beatrice studied Cassius as she examined the feelings, trying to take root in her heart. Sentiments she couldn’t allow to grow and flourish.

Heat swept her cheeks, and the warmth wasn’t from her fever returning.

She’d practically climbed into his lap that morning.

A songbird trilled outside. She did not know what type it might be, but the sound blended perfectly with the evening’s tranquility.

God, she’d been terrified when she’d woken and found herself alone, petrified that the Westbrook brothers had left her in these mountains. She could no more find her way to civilization than a crawling infant could.

She ought to have known Cassius wouldn’t abandon her, and her only excuse was that her illness-befuddled mind had made it hard to think logically.

This morning, he had held her for several long minutes as she’d sobbed into his shoulder, drenching his shirt until her panic subsided. He smelled of soap, starch, cedarwood, and a pleasant musky aroma that was his unique scent.

He’d removed his neckcloth and unbuttoned the top of his shirt.

His rolled-up shirtsleeves exposed raven black hair on his forearms and peeked from the tantalizing vee below his collarbone. Something she ought not to have noticed in her distressed state and which she refused to contemplate when she’d recovered her equanimity.

When her fit of weeping had ended, he’d set her on the blankets and handed her a cool, damp cloth to erase the evidence of her tears.

Experience had taught her that her eyes would remain swollen and red for an hour or two.

She must’ve looked a sight.

As soon as she’d composed herself, Cassius had retreated behind his wall of cool politesse again—had once more erected that fortified wall he used as a buttress from getting too close to her. From letting her get too close to him as well.

She recognized the pattern by now.

It should not bother her.

Should it ?

After all, she wasn’t interested in their relationship developing into something more, either.

Liar. You don’t really believe that.

No, Beatrice would not—could not—entertain dangerous, foolish ideas. Without compunction, she shoved the traitorous thoughts over the edge of a very steep mental cliff.

If she hadn’t decided many years ago that she would never trust a man to the point of loving him and giving him her heart, Cassius Westbrook might be the very gentleman who could have convinced her that love and the potential for happiness were worth the risk of heartbreak. But she had made that decision, and she would not regret her choices.

As much as she trusted him, she couldn’t extend that confidence to her heart.

Look what had happened to Mama.

She’d loved a man who had deceived her into giving herself to him with the promise of marriage when the bounder was already married. Mama had learned the truth too late—when she already carried Beatrice in her belly.

Oh, the scathing scorn and disparaging contempt Mama had endured.

Even as a young child, Beatrice remembered the snubs, the elevated noses, and turned backs. As if Mama were diseased. Those hypocritical snobs.

Uncle Cedric had only reinforced Beatrice’s perception of men as self-centered, thoughtless, and inconsiderate creatures.

Cassius Westbrook might be the exception to the rule, but Beatrice would not gamble her future on that. Besides, after his broken betrothal, he had locked his heart and thrown away the key.

Moreover, in her half-unconscious, half-awake state, at some point, she’d heard Cassius telling his brother he couldn’t wait to reach their family home so he could wash his hands of her.

Not in so many words, but she’d caught the gist of what he meant.

He didn’t want to love anyone either.

Hadn’t he been more than clear on that front?

It was far wiser and safer not to risk one’s heart.

Fortunately, unlike most women who depended utterly on men, Beatrice possessed independent wealth and need never submit to a man’s dictates again. Well, once she collected her inheritance in London, that would be the case. Until then, she was wholly reliant upon Cassius.

All day, she’d strained to hear the slightest unnatural sound in the woodlands. Anything to alert her to an unwanted human presence. Instead, bird calls filtered through the trees, and squirrels chattered back and forth. The hours crawled by with the slowness of a snail on hot pavement until her nerves were bowstring tense with anticipation.

Though Cassius affected an air of nonchalance, he didn’t fool her.

His keen artist’s eyes missed nothing.

If a dog twitched an ear or lifted a snout and sniffed the air, his shoulders tensed and his features hardened.

Idly petting Teddy, Beatrice swung her attention to the open window to her right. It was impossible to tell the precise time, but from the gradual quieting of the woodlands and waning light, she guessed it must be nigh on to dusk.

She coughed, not the lung-rattling hack of twenty-four hours ago, but a productive cough.

Cassius glanced over his shoulder, concern pleating his handsome face.

It was his nature to care about others.

Too bad that Italian woman had wounded him so badly. He’d have made someone—not Beatrice, of course—a wonderful husband. With his patience and compassion, he would have been an exceptional father too.

“You needn’t fret. I’m feeling much improved, Cassius.” She offered what she hoped was a reassuring smile. It also didn’t escape her how little she stuttered when she spoke to him. “I’m certain I don’t have the same illness afflicting Millborn.”

Or perhaps, being in excellent health otherwise, unlike Millborn, Beatrice’s body had fought the sickness.

Giving a brief nod, Cassius tightened the firm line of his mouth. “Nevertheless, you probably should lie down and rest. You’ve been up for a couple of hours now. It will be dark soon, and the journey to my father’s estate shall test your fortitude, even in a coach.”

So Beatrice had guessed right about the time.

“You should rest too, Cassius. I know you are completely done in.”

The truth was, she would welcome his company nearby. Something small rustled around beneath the floorboards, and she swore she’d seen tiny beady eyes peeking at her from a gap between the wall planks.

Though she put on a brave front, sleeping in the pitch dark without a fire to dispel the darkness unsettled her—never mind the spiders, creepy crawlers, and rodents. Several times during her childhood, Uncle Cedric had locked her in her bedchamber with no light as punishment for some imagined infraction.

Nonetheless, Beatrice would bite off her tongue before breathing a word of her fear of the dark to Cassius.

He needed no more burdens. She’d saddled him with too many already.

Besides, he’d said his brother and others should be there by late evening. She could bear a few hours in the dark with Nala and Teddy close at hand. Especially if Cassius was there too.

“When do you think Captain Westbrook and the others will arrive?” Beatrice tried to sound casual as she set aside the empty, dented tin cup missing its handle.

Tilting his head upward, Cassius appeared to be studying the sky, although what he could see through the dense overgrowth, she wasn’t certain.

At last, he shrugged. “I’m not certain. If there are no complications, before midnight, I should think.”

Four or five hours?

That wasn’t so long.

He approached her. “Do you need privacy outside before we settle in?”

Beatrice did, and she very much doubted either of them would sleep a wink.

“Please.” She nodded and gave him a grateful smile as he helped her stand.

Her legs no longer felt like rubber, though the muscles still protested any movement.

Wrapping an arm around her waist, Cassius steadied her and led her behind the hunting lodge. She rather liked his muscular arm supporting her, but she refused to lean into his strength. It wouldn’t do to become too accustomed to his support or protection.

In a few days, they’d part ways, and she’d probably never see him again.

A powerful wave of sadness swept over her.

Naturally, Nala and Teddy followed them outdoors. Assured that Beatrice was safe, the dogs began nosing around to take care of their business too.

“I’ll be nearby if you need me. Just call.” Cassius released her and disappeared.

This business of relieving herself outdoors was a whole new experience for Beatrice and one she was grateful was for a limited duration. She made a mental note to ensure that during her travels, accommodations for personal needs would always be available. This rustic lifestyle might appeal to some women, but she was not among them.

For the first time in her life, she realized she might just be a bit snobbish after all.

After finishing, she took a deep breath and stretched.

She’d improved vastly today. Her chest still ached, and when she coughed, it was difficult to catch her breath, but she was almost certain her fever had abated.

Determined to prove to Cassius that she was well on her way to recovery, she carefully made her way toward the front of the cottage. The air had cooled considerably, and a shiver skittered across her shoulders.

Cassius had mentioned this forest was The South Pennines, and the temperature was always cooler here, particularly beneath the trees’ leafy covering.

He must have heard her coming because he turned.

For an unguarded instant, he gazed at Beatrice with such longing and tenderness that she almost missed a step. In the next second, the shutters fell into place over his face with the swiftness of soldiers securing a bastion against marauders, and she might have imagined the desire written across his chiseled features.

Just as well.

How did two broken, beleaguered people traverse the rocky and uncertain path that was love? Wouldn’t it be like the blind leading the blind?

After he’d assisted her back to her humble bed, he set about shuttering the windows. He’d already gone for water and there was naught else to do but wait until Layton and the others arrived.

He glanced at her before moving to the door. “All set?”

As much as she ever would be.

Beatrice gathered Teddy into her arms and pulled Nala close before giving a brave nod.

He searched her face, and for a heartbeat, she suspected he knew her embarrassing secret.

Thankfully, Cassius said nothing.

The hinges squeaked and groaned as he shoved the uneven door shut and slid a board into place to secure it.

Blackness as dark as the Earl of Hell’s waistcoat enveloped her, and Beatrice breathed slowly in and out to prevent dread from overcoming her. Or at least she tried to. Instead of calm, even breaths, she panted as fear clawed its way up her spine.

Sweet Jesus .

It didn’t matter that she wasn’t alone. Curling her fingers into Nala’s coat, she commanded her irregular gasps to subside.

As if sensing her inner turmoil, Teddy licked her chin.

Cassius must have heard Beatrice’s panicked breathing, for before she could blink thrice in the inky darkness, he settled beside her. “Come here.”

Then his arms encircled her, and Beatrice buried her face in his wide, comforting chest.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured against the fine fabric of his shirt. “I know being afraid of the dark is silly at my age.”

“ Hmm .” He made that low humming sound in his chest that she’d come to adore.

“We all have fears, Beatrice.” He stroked her back, up and down. “Have I told you about my grandmother, Libby the Dowager Duchess of Latham?”

A blatant change of subject to spare her further humiliation.

She adored Cassius for it.

“You’ve mentioned her.” Beatrice tilted her head back, but it was impossible to see Cassius’s face. Regardless, the warmth of his body and the steady thump, thump of his heart against her cheek reassured her.

“Lie back, and I’ll tell you about her and the rest of my family.” He chuckled, and she imagined the mirth lighting his dark blue eyes. “Grandmama is quite an eccentric old bird, but we all adore her and would do anything for her. She knows it too and isn’t above exploiting our affection.”

Soon, they lay side by side, face to face.

Nala tucked herself behind Beatrice’s back, and Teddy rooted around near her feet before plopping down.

“Grandmama is part Roma, and she believes in all sorts of magical, mystical, unexplainable things…”

“She sounds like an exceptional woman.” Beatrice fingered his waistcoat.

“That she is. You’ll meet her when we reach Hefferwickshire.”

Cassius continued to speak softly, telling Beatrice story after story about his grandmother. All the while, he held her in his arms and soothed her trembling with long, comforting strokes down her back.

Beatrice’s fear gradually subsided, and her breathing settled into an even cadence as the night wore on. Surely it must be near midnight by now. Yawning, she snuggled closer, and it felt…right and natural…No, it felt perfect. She would cherish the memory of this night all her life.

Closing her eyes, she listened to Cassius’s pleasant baritone until sleep carried her away.

A wet nose on her cheek woke her sometime later.

She lay cocooned beside Cassius, who snored softly near her ear.

“Teddy?” she murmured groggily.

“Holy hell!” Cassius bolted upright and dashed to the door, where he struggled with the board, acting as a barrier to intruders. “Something’s gone wrong.”

Light filtered in through a myriad of cracks in the walls.

Heart racing and mouth gone dry as parchment paper, Beatrice sat up, shoving her hair away from her face.

Oh, my God.

It’s morning .

No one had come.