Page 15 of Much Ado About Hating You (Second Chance Season #2)

Fourteen

R ichard never knocked on John’s study door. Usually he walked right in, as secure in his place there as he was in… not much else. But today he knocked. John had gone in earlier, but he was due at the church in less than an hour. He’d leave soon, and he was alone now, and that was just how Richard needed him. Richard knocked again.

This time, John said, “Come in.”

Richard did, shutting the door softly behind him. He locked eyes with his brother.

“I was wrong,” they said at the same time.

Something coiled too tight in Richard relaxed, and he fell into the low settee by the fireplace. John joined him, slumping into a seat and stretching his legs out long. “Need a drink?”

“No. You?”

John shook his head. “Do you know where he is?”

“No. Apologies. Again. I should have made sure he returned to Bell House with me.”

“Bell House?” John raised a brow.

Blast. Not meant to say that. It felt right, though.

“You know,” John said, “when you were building… Bell House, you seemed… driven. Like you were following a vision, working toward something… for someone .”

He had been. Beatrice’s vision. For her. Every wall and stroke of paint, he’d built it for her. He nodded. No point hiding it now.

“At the time, I thought you were thinking of your future, a family perhaps.” John nudged Richard’s boot with the toe of his own. “I did not know you had a particular person in mind.”

“I didn’t think about it too hard, either.” It would have been too painful to look up from the work and realize he was doing it for a woman who would never live there.

“Does she… feel the same?”

Richard couldn’t answer that. Throat too tight. He croaked out instead, “Daniel.”

John sighed. “Yes. Daniel. I suppose we should turn our attention to that particular topic.”

Richard told him, John listening in silence until all was done, and then he said, “What do we do?”

“Turn him in to the constable. Send him away.”

“It’s different… doing it ourselves. He’s a horrible person, but… Watching him carted off to a hulk versus…”

“Doing it ourselves…”

“Precisely. Do you believe him? That he just wants to be at the wedding?”

Richard shifted. Daniel was so damn difficult to understand. “I do not know. He’s selfish fifty-nine minutes of every hour, then will surprise you at minute sixty. Every word that comes out of his mouth is impossible.”

John picked at a loose thread on the chair arm. “You should have told me you were going to write to him.”

“Probably. But your entire life had been interrupted by the children, Daniel’s children. I wanted to keep the avenues of communication open with him, but I did not want to put more on your shoulders.”

“Thank you. But he’s my responsibility, too. More so than he is yours.”

Because they shared the same mother, because Richard didn’t really belong. “How’s that?” The question almost caught in Richard’s throat.

“Because I’m the marquess.”

Such a simple answer. Not the one Richard had expected. Relief sailed through him like a calm breeze.

“But I should rely on you more. There’s no man as dependable as you, Richard. I’m damn lucky to have you as my brother.”

Richard had always known John loved him, had always known John accepted him perhaps as no one else did. But it was… good to hear him say it. “You are.” Said gruffly. “And I am too.”

They cleared their throats and looked away, then John gave a nervous laugh that Richard caught up, too. It spilled easiness between them. Renewed and welcome.

“You look a bloody mess,” Richard said. “Daniel gave as good as he got. You are going to stand up and take Evie as your wife with a cut lip, bruised jaw, and black eye.”

“He looks worse,” John grumbled.

“Naturally. But he’s not getting married today.”

John seemed to chew on something, then said, “Evie thinks you should take a wife. But… I don’t want you to leave. You’re the only brother I have left. I like working with you and seeing you every day and— Bloody hell, this is difficult to say.” He pushed a hand through his hair. “What I mean to say is thank you. And… whatever you need to do, I support you. What I want doesn’t matter. It’s not your fate to take care of Slopevale and me for the rest of your days.”

“I don’t want to leave.” Truth. He loved his home, his family. But he would. Because he loved Beatrice, too, wanted her to be his family. And he would do what he must to have any little piece of her she was willing to give. “I’ll remain as long as you’ll have me. I… I didn’t mean to endanger the children. You know I would never?—”

“I know. I know. And I do not think Daniel is a danger to them.”

They sat in companionable silence until there was knock on the door.

“John?” Evie said from the other side, “It’s time for us to walk to the church.”

Richard and John pushed to standing at the same time, groaning.

“My muscles feel like they’ve been in a meat grinder,” Richard said.

“Mine too.”

Richard knocked his elbow into his brother’s ribs. “Not ideal for a wedding night.”

Laughing, they joined Evelina in the hallway, and Richard sank to the back of the large group bursting out of the house and down the drive.

Near the front of it, to Evie’s side, walked Beatrice and Selena, their arms looped round one another’s waists. Martin strolled nearby, smiling at Selena. Perhaps his future would also hold a parade to a chapel soon enough.

No matter how well Richard knew Beatrice or how many times he visited a house in London with her, they would never be able to walk next to one another in public like that, sharing small smiles and whispered words.

Selena leaned over and whispered something in Beatrice’s ear, and Beatrice looked over her shoulder, searching the crowd behind her until she found him. When their eyes caught, she turned around and weaved her way through the oncoming crowd until she stood beside him, then she set her steps to his. He shortened his stride to fit her smaller one.

“You should be up front with your brother,” she said.

He shook his head. “I do not wish to spoil the merriment. I’m in a dour mood today.”

“It’s my fault.” She didn’t lower her chin but faced her culpability head high.

“No, sweetheart,” he whispered.

She worried her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Mark my words,” a voice, high and loud, called out from the crowd, “there will be another wedding at Slopevale in three weeks’ time.”

Everyone looked around for the speaker, but no one could find her.

“Who?” a second voice queried.

“Why, Mr. Clark and Miss Bell, of course,” said another.

Still, everyone looked about, failing to find the speakers.

“Damn Daniel,” Richard growled.

“Where is he?” Beatrice hissed, her cheeks roses as everyone parading before them spun around to inspect them for signs of matrimonial intent.

“There. Behind Peterson,” Richard whispered.

Daniel waggled his fingers, then pulled his hat low. “They’re in love!” he cried out, that fake voice rising high and loud. “Miss Bell and the old marquess’s bastard.”

Peterson scowled, gaze flashing to Beatrice.

“Oh God.” Richard surged toward Daniel. Had to remove the man before any more harm was done.

Beatrice hid her face behind her palms.

Before Richard could reach Daniel, John pushed his way to the back of the crowd. “Is that true?” His gentlemanly instinct rode him hard, would demand honor if anything was even the least bit untoward.

Disaster. Richard had to save Beatrice from a permanent entanglement she didn’t want. “Miss Bell?” He laughed. “And me? In love? It’s absurd. Isn’t it?” He threw the question at Beatrice. He’d dug the hole, now she could throw the body of these romantic accusations inside its grave, bury it deep.

After a moment of shaky silence, she lifted her gaze to him, threw her shoulders back in that position he knew so well. It said she had no doubts. It said confidence steeled every inch of her perfect soul. She stepped closer to him, her smile so mischievous he wanted to kiss it, right there in front of everyone.

“Will you marry me, Mr. Clark?” she asked.

His heart stopped. The world went silent. Might have stopped spinning. But all the blood rushing to his head and places more southern, apparently intrigued by a brazen woman proposing marriage in front of an audience, threw him off-balance. Glued feet to the ground. Steady. Steady. Then… “Pardon me, Miss Bell. I’m not sure I heard you correctly.”

Her eyes narrowed, and she hissed, “Richard, you heard me.”

“I’m not entirely sure I did.” He couldn’t have heard her right.

Her mouth snapped into a smooth, stubborn line.

He draped an arm around her shoulder and turned her away from the crowd. “What are you playing at?”

“I’m not playing anymore. I would like to marry you very much. If your offer still stands, and if you’ll still have me.”

He looked over his shoulder where a few dozen people watched the unfolding conversation like a Drury Lane production. They seemed to hold their breath and lean even closer.

A poke in his ribs returned his attention to brazen Beatrice, scowly browed and hands on hips. “Your hesitation is somewhat humiliating .”

“Humiliating? Humph. Well then, I suppose I shall take you since no one else will.”

She squealed and bounced a little bit on her toes, and then she calmed herself to say, “No one will have me? It’s the other way around, Mr. Clark. No one will have you . I myself take you on only out of pity.”

“God, you she-devil,” he said around a grin, swooping an arm around her waist and yanking her close.

“Donkey.” She grabbed his lapels and pulled up on tiptoe.

“Hellcat.”

And then he was kissing her to the roar of cheers and applause.

And when the crowd grew tired of the kissing, still Richard clung to her, giving her everything he could through every touch and taste. And taking, too, her bravery, her passion, her wit.

John’s hand slapped onto Richard’s back as he cleared his throat, breaking them apart. “Congratulations, brother. But did you have to be so dramatic about it?”

“That was quite bold of you.” Evie hugged Beatrice. “Proposing marriage to a man in front of everyone.”

“Richard is the most loyal man I know.” Beatrice squeezed Evie’s hands. “And I am not at all afraid to let absolutely everyone know that he belongs to me.” She grinned up at him. “Shall you dislike having me as a neighbor, Evie?”

“I’m delighted!” Evie gave Beatrice another hug. And then Selena was there, wrapping the two of them in her arms, and Martin was slapping Richard’s back.

Richard, grinning wider than he’d ever grinned in his life, shrugged off their attentions. “Let’s get you married, John.” And then he walked arm in arm with his betrothed all the way to the church.

He settled into a pew beside Beatrice, a polite distance between them. But her skirt touched his trousers soon, and once the ceremony began, he would be able to slide over so that their thighs rubbed along one another, and people would think it in bad taste but would smile and say it was a love match.

And it was.

And this woman, more than anyone else he’d ever known, had chosen him and come to him and told everyone in the world that for her, he was it.

He’d not known how desperately he needed that until she’d done it.

He leaned over and whispered in her ear, “You are a wonder, Beatrice Bell, and I love you.”

Her words were so low, he could barely hear them. “I love you, too.” Then she bobbed her head toward a stained-glass window at the back of the church.

There, peeping in through a clear square—Daniel.

“Go,” Beatrice whispered.

So Richard did, out the door and around the corner to where Daniel peeked through the window. Daniel glanced up at the first crunch of Richard’s boot.

“Come here,” he said, pointing through the window and barely suppressing a laugh. “Look at Peterson.”

Sitting in a pew near the front, Peterson continuously and furiously scratched at his neck. His hair, too. He’d almost knocked off his hat. Everyone near him scooted as far from him as they could.

“Did you do that?” Richard demanded.

Daniel winked and jabbed Richard’s ribs with his elbow. “You’re welcome.”

“You are a devil.” He took one step away from his brother, paused. “You’re not coming inside?”

Daniel shrugged. “Me? Inside of a church? I don’t mind admitting I’m more than a little hesitant to enter one of those.”

“If anyone was going to be smote upon entering, it would be you.”

“You understand. I’m going to stay right here. Look through the window.” He clung to the wall, peeping through, his eyes riveted on the activity inside. “My progenies seem healthy. And happy.”

“No thanks to you,” Richard grumbled.

“Or all thanks to me if you look at it a certain way.”

“You mean blindfolded?”

“I could not have made them happy. But John does. You do. My leaving was for the best.”

“You’ve always been a genius at turning your vices into virtue.”

“I’m a multitalented man. Now, I’ll be leaving here soon, but I want you to promise me something.”

“Ha. I’m not promising you anything.”

“Promise me you’ll come to terms with what you are.” Daniel repositioned himself at his clear square, focus on the front of the church where John and Evie stood.

“I’ve no idea what you mean.”

“A good man. A worthy one. A fighting one, too. But you wouldn’t know it. You run around putting out fires even when it means you neglect your own desires. Don’t do that with Beatrice. Fight for her. For the both of you.”

“I’m not like you. I do not stomp about taking for mine whatever catches my eye. Women are not toys, Daniel. They have desires and ambitions and needs. Men should not collect them like books or boots.”

“Some men are collectors.” Daniel placed a palm on his chest. “You are not. Build your own family with the shrew and protect it. Don’t let the demands of Slopevale master your time and attention.”

He knew what Daniel meant. “I will not.”

“And tend to what you want now and then. Yes?”

“Yes.” No harm in it. Much good.

“Now go inside and enjoy your woman. Your family.”

Daniel his family, too. In the end. “Where are you going?”

“Russia, I think? Or somewhere else. Anywhere else.”

“Will you return for my wedding?” Richard asked.

“Do you want me to?”

Richard snorted, not sure how to answer. “Wherever you go, don’t collect anymore brides.”

“I promise nothing.” Daniel winked again. “Now go. The family awaits.” His voice hollow, flat. Family. Said as if it weren’t also his own. Daniel was a full-blooded son of their father’s line, but he did not belong here, did not wish to be here with his family. Richard was more brother to John, more son of Slopevale than Daniel would ever want to be.

It was not blood that made family. It was need, desire, love. The kind of love and loyalty John showed Richard and that Richard would show Beatrice every day of their lives.

Richard slapped his brother on the back, and Daniel swung around, wrapping him in a tight hug.

“Find your peace, brother,” Richard said in Daniel’s ear. “But no more wives.”

Daniel pushed away, laughing through some stronger emotion before shoving Richard toward the front of the church.

Richard quietly rejoined Beatrice, grasped her hand, and squeezed.

“Is all well?” she asked.

He kissed her knuckles. “As well as it can be, sweetheart.”

As John and Evie signed their names in the registry, Beatrice sighed, his hellcat melting into a lovely puddle in the face of a little bit of love.

“Sigh no more, Beatrice,” he whispered in her ear, “I will love you forever.”