Page 1 of Much Ado About Hating You (Second Chance Season #2)

February 1821, London

S igh no more, Beatrice, sigh no more. Friends were persistent ever .

Beatrice Bell swallowed her sighs and tapped the corner of the unopened letter on the tabletop. Nearby, the porcelain teacup with the faint imprint of her lips at the rim, rattled the tiniest bit. She had known Evelina Denby since childhood, and this letter would be no teary-eyed plea. It would be patient yet determined. Just like Evelina.

But Beatrice had made up her mind, and she would not budge. Not even for Evie. Best get this done with. She broke the wax seal, unfolded the letter, and read. Just as she expected—an impassioned plea to attend Evelina’s wedding, a reassurance that Mr. Richard Clark, the groom’s half brother, would not bother Beatrice one bit, and… was that…? Beatrice peered more closely at the paper. Yes, it was—a single teardrop dried into a single word, wavering the ink that curved into please . Cunning. Deliberate. Yet subtle.

Beatrice chuckled. It would be lovely to see Evelina again and in the bloom of new life instead of enveloped in the pallor of her husband’s death. Funerals and weddings brought people together, mourning for the past and celebrating the future.

Tonta . Silly stuff. Nothing mattered but the present.

And Selena. Beatrice’s cousin had barely survived their last visit to Slopevale. Beatrice would not allow her to revisit the pains of that particular past.

She placed Evelina’s letter at the corner of the writing desk and prepared her response. Then, with a hearty sip of her now lukewarm tea, she set quill to paper and wrote.

Dearest Evelina,

I dislike the notion of disappointing you, but I’m afraid Selena and I will not be able to attend your wedding. My father is soon to entrust me with a translation project that will require all my time and intellect. I simply will have no room for diversion in the coming months.

In your letter, you imply I am avoiding Mr. Clark by avoiding your nuptial celebration, but that cannot be further from the truth. Mr. Clark who? is what I say.

I assume he still prowls about Slopevale like a king, charming every man, woman, and beast but for me . I am the lucky one, being immune as I am. It is a lonely path, however, to see the truth of the man. A viper should never possess such a handsome facade.

Not that I think he’s handsome, mind you. I have no taste for big men like him. Too much of a brute. I prefer a more sophisticated sort.

And, if you must know, Evie, I am a bit scared Mr. Fisher will be in attendance. He was such good friends with your husband-to-be and Mr. Clark. And he disappointed Selena so thoroughly with his disloyal attentions. I will not have her old wounds reopened. As you well know, my cousin is my greatest concern.

And as you also know, Richard Mr. Clark is my great adversary.

But my inability to attend has nothing to do with him. I am simply busy. I send all my love.

Your dearest and busiest,

Beatrice

* * *

8 Days Later

Beatrice merely raised a brow when she accepted the letters from the butler. “Thank you, Mr. Cutler.” She sank into a chair in the front parlor as her cousin stripped off her gloves and bonnet. Selena possessed the pale-green Bell eyes, same as Beatrice, but they were unalike in every other way. Selena was tall and willowy with the loveliest gold curls framing her heart-shaped face. Beatrice was rather shorter, curvier; her thick, dark hair a gift from her mother.

“It’s from Evelina. Again,” Beatrice said, tugging her own gloves off and setting her bonnet aside.

Selena sat across from her. “Oh? I’ve recently had an epistle from her as well. I am terribly excited to visit Slopevale once more. And even more excited to see our friends bring one another such happiness.”

Beatrice dropped the letter to her lap unread. “You cannot mean you intend to go!”

“Of course, I intend to do so. She is our closest friend. I would not miss her wedding for the world. You’re not saying you would ?”

The paper crinkled beneath Beatrice’s folded hands, feeling hot as a coal and thrice as uncomfortable. “It is not in your best interest to revisit that scene. Mr. Fisher might be there.” She whispered the name, unwilling to see the splash of remembrance, then sorrow, flash across her cousin’s face.

But this time… nothing. Selena merely ticked her head to the side, the corner of her lips flipping up. “It will be good to finally put the past behind us.”

“You are too kind, Lena. You should not be. Mr. Fisher abandoned you. And his friend supported the betrayal.” Friend . The word tasted like curdled milk on her tongue. Mr. Richard Clark was no one’s friend.

“No, Bea, I wish him well.”

What could she say to that? Fisher had been a specter haunting Selena for years now, a whimsical what-if. If he’d followed his heart instead of his friend’s advice, Selena would likely be blissfully wed instead of undeniably a spinster. Beatrice was glad to see the fantasy of a lost future no longer held sway over her cousin, but it left her on new ground, uneven and icy. Beatrice could not figure out where to step next to avoid a fall.

“If you do not attend,” Selena said, “do not do so for my sake. I will go with or without you. But I do understand”—she reached across the space between them and placed her hand over Beatrice’s—“if the prospect of once more facing Mr. Clark has startled you. I hear he is still a bachelor.”

“And will die a bachelor because no intelligent woman will have him.” The coward. Que bruto. “What a brute,” she mumbled, opening the letter and reading.

Dear Stubborn Bea,

Bring your translations. I must have you. And you, it seems, must have your curiosity sated. You wish to know how Richard is? Do not think I did not see your crossed out use of his given name. No scratches could hide it! And I will give you what you most need. Richard is still charming and still handsome and terribly good with his niece and nephews. They adore him. As does everyone who meets him. But for you, as you say. I’ve always wondered why that is.

That is neither here nor there, I suppose. What matters is that I see you in April for my wedding. If you do not agree, John will likely kidnap you to ensure you attend for my sake. He is adamant that my every desire is met.

Mr. Fisher will be in attendance, and Selena is well aware of the fact. It does not bother her. She is eager to speak with him, so she says. No less eager than you are to argue speak with Richard.

I look forward to your acceptance letter, dear Bea.

And if I am not appeased, you should look forward to seeing John. And the inside of a careening coach bringing you to me,

your newly spoiled friend,

Evelina Soon-to-Be Marchioness of Prescott

Beatrice refolded the letter. “Evelina has that marquess tightly wound round her finger, it seems.”

“She always has. Only now she knows it.” Selena straightened her gloves. “Please say you’ll come. Please say you’ll not let Richard Clark scare you away. I know he’s intimidating, but?—”

“Me?” Beatrice shot to her feet. “Intimidated by Richard Clark? Ha!”

Selena mastered a smile, pressing her lips into a tight line. She could not keep the mirth from her eyes, however.

“Do not look at me like that, Lena. It’s true. And I will not run from him now. If you are intent on going?—”

“I am!”

“And if Evelina wants me there badly enough to turn her husband into a kidnapper, well, then, I will attend. Mr. Richard Clark be damned.”

* * *

Selena retired to her room a half hour later. They’d begun and halfway completed their travel plans for April, and she was exhausted. Beatrice had a habit of exhausting everyone around her. They simply melted beneath her enthusiasm and vivacity.

But not Mr. Richard Clark. He’d kept up with her, intellectually, physically. As cunning and sharp as Beatrice, her match in every way. Including stubbornness.

And loyalty. Selena had much to thank the man for. The least she could do was give him a chance. With Beatrice.

She sat at her small writing desk near her bedchamber window and pulled open the thin center drawer, retrieved the letter there, and read it once more with a smile on her face and a plan unfurling in her heart.

Dearest Selena,

Beatrice is proving difficult. I have resorted to threats to get her to Slopevale in April, and I promise John will oblige me. If you see him shoving her in a carriage, just go about your day and let it happen.

You said you will come without her, and I thank you, but we must have her, too. I hate to think I will lose her friendship and her visits once I marry John. We must do everything in our power to soothe relations between her and Richard.

I think we must act on our old theory about those two. It is fascinating, is it not, that neither have married after all this time…

What say you to a bit of matchmaking?

Your fellow cupid,

Evelina Soon-to-Be Marchioness of Prescott

Selena was not as over the heartbreak of seven years ago as she’d let Beatrice think. She rubbed her chest where her heart seemed to gnaw at her muscle. Mr. Fisher. Martin. He might always twist her into knots. But it was a well-deserved suffering she’d heaped on herself. Selena’s own selfishness and shame had fed her cousin’s ire all these years. And she would face her painful past if it meant bringing Beatrice, finally, into well-deserved future happiness.