Page 13 of Much Ado About Hating You (Second Chance Season #2)

Twelve

A bell rang upstairs, and Richard ignored it. It rang again, and he growled. The third time the bell rang he was already half up the stairs. By the time it was done peeling, he’d thrown open the bedchamber door. “What in God’s name is it this time?”

Daniel reclined against a pile of pillows at the head of a bed, legs crossed at the ankles. He wore Richard’s banyan and, it appeared, nothing else. By the fingertips of an outstretched arm, he clutched the handle of a small bell. “Unfeeling brute, talking to an injured man like that.I was shot , Richard. You should be weeping over my mostly dead carcass.”

Richard leaned against the doorframe, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You were scratched by a stray bullet, you nodcock.”

Daniel shrugged, winced, pretended to cry. When Richard did not care, he shrugged again—this time no wince—and stopped pretending. “I require sustenance.”

“Feed yourself.”

“Can’t. I’m more comfortable than I have been in years. My slice of mattress is the perfect temperature. The pillows at the perfect angle.I refuse to ruin this moment. Being exiled is not as luxurious as you might think. And all you’re doing is waiting for the harpy to arrive so you can fuck her.”

“I will toss you out on your arse, baby brother.”

“You wouldn’t. You love me too well.” He dropped the bell to the bed and grinned.

“I wouldn’t test him, cretin.”

Richard turned and found Beatrice in the doorway, foot tapping, gaze narrowed on Daniel.

“Good morning, shrew!” Daniel waved.

“Thank God you’re here.” Richard reached out just enough to drag the pad of his finger down the outside of her wrist, just above the lace gloves he wanted to tease from her body using only his teeth. She would have no patience for Daniel’s nonsense.And now he had an excuse to leave Daniel to his own annoying devices.

“As long as you’re here,” Daniel said, drawing Beatrice farther into the room, “tell the man you’re fucking that he should not have let the servants go. There’s no one here to do a damn thing!”

“I wasn’t supposed to be here,” Richard said, “for an entire fortnight. Of course I let them go.” He was glad he had an abandoned place to bring Beatrice, though. They had rooms at Slopevale, but this was better. He had abundant excuses to be missing from the party—various estate business. And she had so far used her translation work to beg off the celebratory activities. The last week had proved conducting an affair to be quite easy.

Except for the presence of his brother.

“I see no flaws in Richard’s logic,” Beatrice said.

Daniel rolled his eyes. “Of course not. You would like to keep riding his?—”

“Daniel,” Richard snapped.

“You do not understand the dynamic between the shrew and I.” Daniel crossed his arms over his chest, winced, and rubbed at his shoulder. He did have a wound high on his back that cut deep across the outside of the shoulder. He’d been lucky that it had not been worse and that it had not become infected. “We nag one another, don’t we, shrew? You don’t mind.”

“I do not mind,” Beatrice said, “because not a single word you utter holds any relevance or weight.”

Daniel flung an arm toward her. “See! Now, one of you please bring me something to eat. I’m famished.”

“What food is most likely to cause you distress?” Beatrice asked.

Daniel gasped. “Murderess. Very well, to preserve my life, I’ll fend for myself, but if you cannot find me, look for me in the larder. I’ll be on the floor having swooned from unnecessary exertion.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Richard grasped Beatrice’s wrist and tugged her out of the room toward the stairs.

“Wait!” Daniel called. “Richard! Rick! Dicky! Damn bastard!”

Richard moved more quickly.

“Shrew!”

Beatrice nearly ran.

They ran together, down the stairs and almost out the door. Richard stopped her there.

“Do you have work today? Or can I distract you?”

Her face shattered a little bit, then put itself together admirably. “No. I’ve been working on something, but… it’s not important.”

“That’s not true.” He tugged her outside just enough to shut the door and block out Daniel’s increasingly pitiful cries. He tugged her little green cap sleeve down. “Of course it’s important.”

She shook her head, staring at the toes of her slippers peeking out beneath her skirts. “I was supposed to be translating an affreightment contract, but… just before Lena and I left to come here, Papa sent it off to someone else.”

“Why?” The word came out hard, sounding like a fist slamming into bone.

She shrugged. “He does that. Sometimes it feels like… punishment. Or… as if he merely forgets me.”

He gathered her up in his arms. “The man’s a mutton brain.” He wanted to brighten her eyes, so he took her hand and pulled her away from the house. “But you are working on something?”

She nodded. “It’s a personal project of no import.”

“Tell me about it?”

“A Spanish poet, Maria Rosa de Gálvez. I adore her.”

“Which do you prefer translating? Contracts or poems?”

She grinned, the smallest thing. But sure, too. “Poems. ‘Despedida al Real Sitio de Aranjuez.’”

“What is that?”

“The name of the poem. In English, ‘Farewell to the Royal Gardens at Aranjuez.’”

“I like the way you say it. Even if I do not understand it. When you’re done, may I read your translation?”

“You would not want to.”

He bumped her shoulder with his own. “Of course I do.”

She inhaled shakily, her smile blooming brighter. “Yes, yes, I think you may. Where are you taking me?” Beatrice asked between puffing breaths.

Richard pulled her around the side of the house and through the garden. “I’ve something planned. You’ll like it. Unless you’d prefer to go back inside and work…”

She shook her head. “I adore surprises. Have you decided yet what to do about your brother?”

His steps slowed. “No. I never should have answered his letter. John didn’t. John told me not to. Told me to wash my hands of the villain. But…”

She looped her arm through his and rested her head on his shoulder. “He’s your family. Even if he is vile.”

“He’s not… evil. I don’t think. He’s simply… thoughtless. More interested in his own diversion than in others’ well-being. I should not have told him about the wedding.”

“He might have come even without that information. He has children here.”

“Does he seem to care about Lucy and the boys?”

She squeezed his arm. Answer enough in the silence that followed. No. Daniel didn’t care.

Her lips thinned. Had he resurfaced memories of her own father walking away from her, leaving her with nothing, no one? He tightened his arm, a silent promise never to abandon her.

“You should not do this alone,” she said. “John and Evelina must know Daniel is here.”

“It would ruin their party. They deserve to celebrate without the shadows Daniel tows along behind him. Besides, it’s my fault he’s here. I’ll take care of him, keep him out of the way, and see him off as soon as can be.” Hopefully before the wedding in two days. “No, I cannot tell John. He’ll want to send the children away. He won’t want them near Daniel. But that means he won’t have them near for the wedding, and that would hurt him too much.”

“You could let John decide that for himself. He’s their legal guardian. It’s not your worry to?—”

“It is my worry, Bea. It always has been. Keeping the peace, pleasing everyone. An unwanted bastard learns early to ingratiate himself or suffer the consequences.”

“What consequences?” Her voice small and tight.

He stroked her hip. “Nothing serious, sweetheart. The marchioness, my father’s wife, found me a bit… inconvenient at times, preferred to pretend I didn’t exist when there were guests. I don’t blame her. Consider her position. Having another woman’s babe foisted onto her, proof of her husband’s perfidy. I don’t have a bit of my mother in me. Look just like John and Daniel. Like our father. No hiding my origins.”

“You were a child. It wasn’t your fault. What do you mean she pretended you didn’t exist?”

His shoulders stiffened, the pity in her voice putting him on edge. “I stayed in my room for small periods of time. When there were guests.”

“You never left it?”

He shook his head, feeling the walls closing in on him, hearing the locks hit home.

“For how long at a time?”

He shrugged, released her and slipped his hands into his pockets, shrugging forward. “A week or two.” Christ, he knew how bad that sounded. “She felt guilty afterward, and by the time I was fifteen, I’d proven an indispensable tool in keeping peace about the place. Between her and father, between John and Daniel. She didn’t lock me up after that.”

“I hate her.”

He stopped. “You… you don’t have to. You shouldn’t. She was welcoming to every other soul.” Not a detail that had ever made her dislike of him easier to live with. Made it harder, actually.

“I do have to. I cannot help but hate her for treating you that way.” Something of a stamped foot in her voice.

He hugged her to his side once more. She’d abandoned the pity. Nothing left in her voice but fire now, and it was more of a balm than the other. It meant she cared. For him. Passionately.

Kissing the top of her head, he said, “Forget it. I’ll keep the peace now, too. It’s what I’m good at. Daniel will be out of the county before John and Evie say I do .”

She settled into his side, but as they approached the back of the house, she pulled away from him with a laugh. “Archery!”

“Yes,” he said, catching up to her. “I know they’re competing at Slopevale today, and I know, as well, how much you enjoy a bit of competition. I hate to deprive you. We could have played with the others today, but then”—he hooked an arm around her waist, pulled her snug against him—“I couldn’t touch you like this.”

She curled her fingers into his jacket and tugged him down for a kiss. “I’d rather this than arrows. But now I can have both. That is empirically better. Thank you.”

He was dizzy. From her easy affection, from his success in making her happy, from her . What would he do when this was over? How could he keep it from ending? He didn’t want to have to hide the tentative we they had created. He wanted to tug her right in front of Peterson and kiss her soundly, show the baron and all else that she was his. For good.

But maybe not for good. Hearts hidden couldn’t thrive, and she had no desire to bare theirs to the sunlight.

She left him to choose her bow and attached the arm brace and three-fingered glove. He took the remaining one and stepped back to watch her line up with the target in the distance.

“You are about to lose, Richard Clark. You may not know this, but I belong to the London Amazonian Society.”

“Can’t say I find that surprising at all.” He leaned over her, dropped a kiss on her neck where she smelled of soap and honey. “You are the amazon-iest of all Amazons.”

“Flattery will not save you, Clark.”

“Never does, sweetheart. Don’t want to be saved.” He stepped back. “Go on, then. Take your shot.”

She did. And got damn near close to the bull’s-eye. “Your turn.” She was gloating. Didn’t even try to hide it.

He stepped up to the target, aimed, hit it. But not well. Not nearly as well as her. Nowhere near the bull’s-eye.

“I win!” She threw her arms around his neck.

He kissed her, then said, “Again?”

“Mm.” She took another shot, and her arrow landed a little farther from the center.

He hit the center. When he faced her, she was scowling, fists on her hips. “You don’t like to lose, Bea?” He knew she didn’t.

“I do not like being tricked. You hit the center easy.”

He shrugged. “I’m no Amazonian. But I’m not without skill. I simply needed a warm-up shot. Now, what boon will you give me for my win?”

“You never said the winner would receive a prize. I won the first round. You’re too sly.”

He caught her round the waist, dropping the bow to hold her close with both arms. He needed all the muscle he possessed to keep a woman like her—all passion and hunger and sharp wit.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, palms pushing slightly at his chest.

“Claiming my prize.” Another kiss. This one deeper.

“Another round,” she said, pulling away breathless.

“As my lady wishes.” But she wasn’t his yet. Not really. Never would be. Be happy to get what’s given you. Don’t make the mistake of hoping for more. His constant self-advice. Necessary for survival but often difficult to swallow.

She won the next round, even though he didn’t hold back this time, and she took for her prize another kiss. Christ, they were sweeter when she gave them with no prompting. His heart expanded when her lips touched his. He wanted to lead her back upstairs, but Daniel would hear them and start yelling. What use an empty house when it wasn’t empty? Soon it would be.

Instead of lining up another round, Richard led Beatrice into the woods, to a swing he’d hung from a stout branch for Lucy and the boys.

She settled into it and clutched the ropes, and he sent her skyward. Her laugh was sunlight. Her skirts whooshed through the air like ribbons, green and lace and springtime embodied in the bright body of the perfect woman.

After a while, he set her on a slower, lower, steadier rhythm. “You like to swing.”

“I do. You are an excellent uncle.” A pause. “You will be an excellent father.”

He wouldn’t be a father. “Thank you.” Despite the beautiful day, shadows encroached. He searched for something happy to cling to. “Oh, you’ll be interested to hear that my man of business has discovered a few residences to rent in London.”

Her spine stiffened. “For us… to use?”

“Yes.”

No response. Did she not want him anymore? Had a week satisfied her? It would never satisfy him. A house in London would not satisfy him. Not if it was mostly empty, rarely used, a symbol of their furtive pairing when he wanted something lasting, when he wanted every single day with her.

“Having second thoughts?” he asked.

“It’s just… a house in London seems so very… serious. Permanent. But… well…” He stopped swinging her, and she stared at her skirts as the swing rocked slowly into stillness. “I will be in London all the time. And you will be here most of the time. You are bound to forget me. To move on to more… convenient women.”

“I will not.”

She shrugged. “All men think they will not, but men know nothing of loyalty.”

Rage rocked through him, and he choked it down. “You fear permanence. Fear the disappearance of it. I do not. I welcome it. If you would allow it, I’d marry you now.”

Still, she stared at her skirts.

“Right.” He was a bastard. He must never forget. No one else would. “I’m aware that is not a possibility. Your uncle is a good man. He would not welcome me into his family. And you are a good niece. You would not wish to burden him with questionable connections.”

She hopped off the swing, chin swinging high, eyes bright and brutally angry. “You’ve never met my uncle. This has nothing to do with him.”

He stepped closer, saying the only words he could take hold of. Was he tossing a challenge at her feet or pleading?

“Marry me, Beatrice.”

A sound caught in her throat.

He pulled her more tightly against him until their legs and bellies and chests pressed hot against each other, until their hearts raced side by side. “Marry me, and I promise to adore you every day for the rest of our lives. I’ll protect you in boats and on land. I’ll push our children on swings. I’ll build gardens and studies for you. I’ll take you to our bed and worship you. I’ll argue with you and kiss you and?—”

“Richard, stop.”

“I’ll make you the happiest woman in England. It will be my sole delight, my one true purpose.”

She pulled out of his embrace, whispered, “Richard.”

“Please, Beatrice.” He held his palms to the sky, featherlight from how damn empty they were. “Marry me.”

“What we have is good. It is safe. No one gets hurt when… when it ends.”

“I don’t want it to end.”

“In a few months or even days?—”

“Never.”

“You’ll tire of me, of this, of the inconvenience of having a lover in London while you’re here.”

“No. I’ll have a house. We’ll have a house.”

“Please.” She was hanging her head now, and he could not see her expression, could only see her hands, stiff and picking at her skirts. “I do not want to lose you?—”

He took a step forward, heart surging. “I don’t want to lose you either.”

“—as a lover.”

There. As good as a no, that. He rocked away from her, planted his feet on hard, solid ground where a bastard should always remember to stay planted. “Yes. Of course.”

“You’re not angry?” She didn’t even peek up at him. Who was this Beatrice, hesitant and shy? Not his Beatrice at all.

“No. But… I’ve things to do. To prepare Daniel for departure. And they require secrecy. You understand.”

She stepped backward, opening the growing gulf between them. “Yes, of course. It’s a matter of some delicacy. Tomorrow… shall we meet here again?”

“I’ll let you know.” Each word sounded like a feral snap. “I will likely be busy.”

After a curt nod, she walked slowly away from him. He seemed to watch her back for years, the gentle sway of her hips. It took decades for her to shrink into the distance, to disappear around the side of the house. And it would take centuries for him to understand why he didn’t run after her and give her everything she asked for. Lovers and nothing else for as long as it lasted. He should be begging her for it.

He wanted her.

But… he wanted to be wanted, too.

“Bollocks,” he hissed, stomping out of the woods.

“You mucked that up right nice, didn’t you?” Daniel’s voice accompanied the loud crunch of grass and twigs beneath a boot.

Richard jumped. “Damn you, Daniel! Where did you come from?”

Daniel blinked, pointed to the house. “There. Where else? But where are you letting her go to? Or rather whom ? Because some man will be waiting to offer her solace, and you’ll lose your bedmate. You and I do not see eye to eye on much, but you’re still my brother. I’d rather you get beneath her skirts than some other man. If that’s what you want.”

“Go away, Daniel.”

“Always being exiled.” Daniel sighed. “It’s not sporting.”

“You’re exhausting.” Richard sat on the garden wall.

Daniel sat beside him, rubbing his palms over his face. “I’m exhausted .” And he looked it, upon closer inspection—pale and gaunt and hollow-eyed. “Should I put more of that plant down Peterson’s jacket?”

“Pardon me?” His brother had always been full up with nonsense, but what was this?

“You know, that plant we accidentally rolled in. On the south side of the lake. When we were kids? All purple and shaped like a cock?—”

“It is not. Looks nothing like.”

“And it makes you itch like the devil. Peterson was sitting near the window, and I sprinkled some down his jacket and cravat. Got in his ears and everything. The wind helped quite a bit in the process of dispersal. Couldn’t have asked for a better day for it.”

Oh God. Richard did remember Peterson sitting at the window in the library, scratching his neck like he wanted to rip off the skin entirely. “Do not do that again.”

“Wouldn’t you like to thank me? Him being the competition and all.”

“No.”

“You’re as little fun as John these days. And now you want to marry, too.” Daniel sighed. “I’ll be the lone bachelor.”

“You are married. You tried to take a second wife.”

“Oh yes. I forget about them. They seem like”—he fluttered his hands in the air—“dreams. Make believe.”

“You deserve every moment of your exile.”

“Probably.” He nudged his elbow into Richard’s ribs. “How are we sneaking me into the church for the wedding? It’s only a few days away now. We need to make a plan.”

“You’re not going to the wedding. You’re going away. For good. Tomorrow.”

“I came back to see our brother married.”

“You should not have.”

“I thought…” Daniel ruffled his hair, a sure sign of his frustration. “You wrote to me.”

“To inform you, not invite you.” Richard stood. “I need to go to Slopevale.”

“To chase after the shrew.”

“Do not call her that.”

“You love her. You loved her back then, and you love her still.”

“And she thinks all men lying, disloyal, and careless. I can’t blame her for that.” Not when he considered her father. And his father. Not when he considered Daniel.

“So, you’ll let the woman you love lead you around on a leash, drop you like a hat pin when she tires of you, leaving you bleeding and brokenhearted for, knowing you, likely the rest of your life? Sounds like she’s the one who’s disloyal and careless. I would know.” Daniel pushed past him and made for the house. Before entering a back door, he yelled, “I’m attending the wedding!”

The hell he was.

Richard needed to follow Beatrice, find some way to fix this, find some way to make his heart okay with an affair instead of marriage. He’d always been able to sacrifice what he wanted for others’ needs. He could do it again.