Page 18

Chapter eighteen

Beatrice

Beatrice took Alexander’s hand as he helped her out of the carriage, and she stood in front of her childhood home.

It hadn't changed in the few days she had been gone, but she had.

Standing here holding her husband's hand, it was difficult to remember why she had always felt at home here. The small cottage held few happy memories for her, and she was dreading the moment her father opened the door. Once he realized she was back, he wouldn’t want her to leave again.

Alexander pulled his hand away, and she almost reached to snatch it back. But then he placed it on her lower back, warm and reassuring, and Beatrice smiled up at him. This was more support than she’d thought she would have when she came back to get her things. She’d assumed she would be staring down her father alone.

But with Alexander at her side, she was not as nervous.

Alexander's presence bolstered her as she walked up to the front door and rapped gently before letting herself in. Her father would be surprised that she would walk into the home that had been hers only a few days before, but he would have to deal with it. With any luck, he would be at the tavern. She just had to get in, get her things, and get back out.

It wasn't as if she had many things to collect. She didn’t need to bring anything to Eldenwilde, because Alexander had been more than generous in taking care of her needs. But there were some things that she would be loath to leave behind, such as her personal collection of books and her mother’s hair comb—the only thing she'd left behind when she disappeared.

“Who’s in my house?” a voice roared, and her father stumbled out of his bedroom.

“Oh, it’s you,” he said when he saw Beatrice, and he made as if he was going to turn around, but then he looked back at her and saw Alexander. His face darkened.

“And who’s this?” he said, making his way toward them. “Are you the man who stole my daughter?”

Beatrice opened her mouth, but Alexander beat her to it.

“I did not steal your daughter, Montgomery,” he said, taking a step forward so he was closer to her father than she was. “Beatrice married me willingly, and we are going to be very happy together.”

He was protecting her.

“And you couldn’t wait for me to get home?” her father said, glaring balefully at Alexander. “I think you married her for a reason, and I’m going to find it out.”

“He did not force me to marry him,” Beatrice stated firmly. Alexander's touch on her waist became firmer, as if he was lending her support, and she took a half step forward to stand beside him. “I married Alexander of my own free will, and there is nothing you can do about it.”

Her father stared in surprise. She had never stood up to him in this way before.

“He has no claim on you,” her father said.

“He does,” Beatrice said. “I am his wife, and that gives him more of a claim than you have.”

Her father glared. “He only married you because he wants something,” he announced.

“As if you don’t?” Beatrice asked. “You only ever wanted me to take care of you. As soon as I was old enough to live here without an adult, you took me from a home where I was loved and brought me here to take care of you. Alexander has taken me to a place where I already feel at home, and I feel loved.”

She didn't dare look at her husband as she uttered those words. She didn't know how he would take it or what he would say, but it was the truth. She felt more loved at Eldenwilde than she ever had with her father.

Even if Alexander wasn't in love with her, he respected her, he cared for her, and he made her feel safe.

She could never return to her father's house, not after experiencing what it felt like to be cared for by a man who was good.

The thought surprised her. All along, everyone had said that Alexander was callous and uncaring. The rumors had called him everything from arrogant to a beast, and she’d foolishly believed them.

But she knew better now. Alexander was a good man, and her father was the beast.

“Your daughter has chosen me,” Alexander said, his hand still firm on her lower back, like an anchor holding her steady in a storm. “Everyone on my estate has already fallen in love with her, and she is welcome to leave if she ever wishes to do so. But I pray she won’t, because I would never be able to find another wife like her. She is kind and caring, she is adventurous and brave, and she is independent but she puts up with me. I hope that we will never be parted.”

His words were spoken swiftly and firmly, and Beatrice glanced up at him in surprise. If he had asked her before today what she thought his feelings were about her, she would have said he was indifferent, that he had married her because he needed a wife before his thirtieth birthday and she was merely a means to an end.

But he was defending her to her father as if he loved her. Even though he hadn't said it in so many words…was it possible that her husband was beginning to feel the same way she was? Could their marriage of convenience become something more?

Her father was turning red in the face, but he seemed unable to find words to refute Alexander. He took a step forward, and Alexander swiftly moved between her and her father, blocking her view of him.

“Touch her, and you will regret it,” Alexander said, his voice low and lethal.

Her father muttered something incoherently, moved around Alexander, and cursed at her as he walked out the door, slamming it behind him. Beatrice's knees began to shake.

Alexander turned to her, concern etched on his face as he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her to him.

“Thank you, Alexander,” she muttered into his chest as the tears began to flow. Hearing him stand up for her meant more than she could have ever imagined. “I'm glad you came with me.”

Alexander didn't say anything, but he held her tighter, and that alone said enough. He held her until her breathing had slowed and the tears had ceased.

She had been under her father's thumb long enough, and she never would be again.

“Let me just get my things, and we can leave,” she said, taking a step back with a sniffle and wiping her hand over her face. “I don't need much.”

Alexander watched as she hurried around the room. She gathered her books and gently put them into the bag that Alexander held open for her, then crossed the room toward the loft where she had slept for so many years.

She quickly climbed the ladder and looked down at the pallet she had slept on, with the one quilt she'd had since she was a child. It was too small for her now, and she’d had to curl up underneath it to stay warm.

In an act of defiance, she grabbed it. If she left it, her father would simply take it and put it on top of his other quilts. This one was hers.

She gathered the hair comb her mother had left and the two books she kept up here—her Bible and the last book she'd been reading before she left—and turned to climb down the ladder. But Alexander was there, poking his head over the edge of the loft, taking in the only space that had been hers.

“Can I carry anything for you?” he asked, his eyes meeting hers.

She nodded and handed him the quilt, then turned to grab her extra clothes. Her father had no use for them, and she could give them to someone on the estate who might. She felt no need to leave him anything.

Having taken the last of her things, Beatrice glanced around the loft, which now only held the bare mattress and the lantern she used to read at night. Feeling a surge of anger, she grabbed the lantern too.

Her father didn’t need that, either.

Alexander chuckled and handed her a bag, into which she shoved everything.

“I'll take it,” he said, holding out his hand for it.

There was a lump in her throat as she handed everything she had once held dear to her husband, who slung the bag over his shoulder and descended the ladder. He respectfully took a few steps away as Beatrice also climbed down, averting his eyes to avoid looking up her skirt.

He was truly a gentleman.

Beatrice looked around what had once been her home and took a deep breath.

She would never come back here again. It held no happy memories for her.

Alexander held out his hand, and she took it. He laced their fingers together, and the gesture felt more meaningful than anything they had previously shared.

Her father had been the person who was forced to have her, but Alexander was the man who had chosen to keep her.

She looked up at him and smiled. It wasn't her usual smile, one full of joy. It was a smile that said all the things she couldn't say—that she was glad this part of her life was over and that she was ready to move forward with Alexander.

“Shall we go to the café and see Thea?” Alexander asked, squeezing her hand gently.

Beatrice's eyes threatened to fill with tears again. How did he know exactly what would make her feel better?

“That would be wonderful,” she said, her voice catching in her throat.

Alexander squeezed her hand again as he led her toward the door. She paused in the doorway, looking back one last time, then turned to smile at Alexander.

No more looking back. She was ready to look toward the future.

“Should we walk or ride?” Alexander asked, as he handed the bags with her things in them to one of the footmen waiting with the carriage.

“I think we should walk,” Beatrice said, allowing a teasing tone to enter her voice as she added, “if it's not too far for you.”

“I’d follow you anywhere,” he said, offering his arm.

She didn’t want to take his arm. She wanted to walk through town holding her husband’s hand, so instead of taking his arm, she reached for his hand.

Alexander’s eyes widened, but he allowed her to take his hand, his fingers lacing between hers again as if they belonged there. She began walking and he followed, looking around town as if he’d never seen it before.

“You don’t know where we’re going, do you?” she asked with a grin.

He shook his head. “I haven’t the slightest clue, but I trust you.”

Warmth bloomed in Beatrice’s chest at his words. He trusted her.

A cold breeze whistled through the slushy streets, but Beatrice felt warm and safe with Alexander. The melancholy that had overtaken her while getting her things disappeared. She was on her way to the café, to one of her favorite places, with her husband for the first time. She couldn’t be sad anymore.

Things were only going to get better from here.

Inspiration struck and Beatrice turned to Alexander, who raised an eyebrow at her. “Do you want to stop in the library?” she asked, her heart begging to visit the place that meant the world to her. She needed to see if it had fallen apart without her, or if Eugenia had risen to the task.

“I hoped you would take me there,” he said, the words melting her heart.

“You could have asked,” she teased, if only to avoid him noticing how much it affected her.

“I wasn’t sure if you would be glad to visit or if it would make you sad, and I didn’t want to put you through too many emotions in one day,” he said.

Beatrice took a deep breath. He had spared a thought for her emotions?

“I appreciate that,” she said, “but I want to show you, and I do want to check in with Eugenia,” she admitted with a grin. “I'll be honest, I don't know how she's going to handle this job. I want to make sure that all is well before we leave her there for the long term. And we're not far from the library—it's only across the way from the café.”

“Which must be why you spent so much time there,” her husband said.

Beatrice grinned. “Yes, that’s part of it. When my father was not in town, it was much easier to go to the café for a meal rather than make my own at home. And since I had a more than generous salary, I was able to do so far more often than I probably should have.”

“I am glad that you had the café and Thea,” he said, “and I'm very glad that you were not alone.”

“I am too,” Beatrice admitted. “It would have been very lonely without her.”

Walking through the streets that had been her home for so long felt so surreal now that she no longer lived here. Everything was familiar, the people were familiar, even—

She grimaced as one particular person came into focus, walking toward her with purpose.

“Not him,” she said with a groan. “How did he find me?”

“Who is it?” Alexander asked, as if he was ready to whisk her away if he needed to.

“It's Roan,” she said with a sigh. “My father must have told him I was here when he left.”

“You don't have to say anything,” Alexander said. “I will take care of it.”

Beatrice smiled. “Thank you for being sweet, but I can handle it.”

She took a deep breath as Roan drew near. She hadn’t wanted to do this today, but apparently, it was the day for her to see all the people she didn’t want to deal with.

“I can take care of it if you want,” Alexander said once again, looking down at her in concern.

Beatrice shook her head. “It will be okay,” she said. “I just need to speak with him.”

Not that she wanted to, but she had to tell him that she was married, and he no longer had any reason to be interested in her.

“I will be right here if you need me,” Alexander said, letting go of her hand and placing his on her lower back.

Beatrice stopped walking and leaned into him, craving his support, as she waited for Roan to close the distance between them.

She wouldn’t give Roan the satisfaction of walking to him. She’d make him come to her.

“Hello, Beatrice,” Roan said as he approached. “I heard you were back in town.”

“Yes, I am,” Beatrice said. “With my husband.”

She didn't miss the way Roan's eyes widened at her words. It gave her immense satisfaction to see him realize that she was no longer in his reach.

“Your husband?” Roan asked. “Isn't that a little sudden?”

“Not at all,” Beatrice said with a winning smile. “Good day.”

With that, she walked past Roan and up the front steps of the building just beyond him before opening the door and pulling Alexander inside.

Once they were safely in, she grinned. “Did you see the look on his face?” she asked Alexander. “That was worth every moment.”

Alexander laughed. “I am glad it was satisfying.”

Before she could make a comment about Alexander laughing—had he actually laughed?—Eugenia appeared around the corner.

“Who’s this?” she asked, before gasping. “Beatrice, you're back!”

“I am,” Beatrice said, hurrying forward to give her friend a hug. “I’ve missed you.”

She took a step back and grabbed Eugenia by the shoulders. “And how are you getting along here?”

“We are getting along just fine,” Eugenia said. “Tom has been helping me.”

Oh, really? That was interesting news.

“Tom?” Beatrice asked with a grin, winking at the older woman, who began to blush.

“It's nothing,” Eugenia said.

“I don't think it is,” Beatrice said with a grin, “but I think you'll just have to tell me what happens the next time I come back.”

“You needn't rush to come,” Eugenia said, pointing her finger at Beatrice. “I'm getting along just fine. And apparently, you are too,” she said, turning to look Alexander over.

“I’m doing well enough,” Beatrice said. It was her turn to blush. Trust Eugenia to see straight to the heart of the matter—and she probably thought Alexander was handsome, too.

“I can see that. Now, you’d better get along and see Thea or she’ll be very cranky,” Eugenia said. “Get out of here and let me take my nap in peace.”

“You’re not napping when you have people in the library?” Beatrice asked.

“Of course not,” Eugenia said, shaking her head. “Who do you think I am?”

“A very tired human,” Beatrice said.

Eugenia reached out and gave her a little shove toward the door, pushing her into Alexander, who caught her easily.

Beatrice stared up at him, forgetting for a moment that they had an audience.

“Now you two lovebirds tell Thea I said hello,” Eugenia said, giving Beatrice a wink before heading back to the desk that had once been Beatrice’s.

There was a lump in her throat as Beatrice said, “I will. And Eugenia?”

The old woman looked at her, a knowing look in her eyes.

“Thank you,” Beatrice said.

Eugenia nodded and Beatrice stepped away from Alexander, already missing his warmth, before leading him to the door.

She held his hand as they walked to the café, and when he opened the door for her, the familiar smells hit her and she nearly started crying again. She had missed this place, even though it had only been a couple of days.

“Beatrice!” Thea exclaimed when she saw her, hurrying around the counter to meet her halfway. She threw her arms around her friend, and Beatrice melted into the hug, the tears threatening to pour out of her.

“What happened?” Thea demanded, pulling back and putting her hand on Beatrice’s shoulder.

“I got married,” Beatrice said with a dazzling smile, knowing that Thea was about to interrogate her and hoping to head it off at the pass.

“We heard,” Thea said shortly.

“I married Lord Dunham,” she said, turning and gesturing to Alexander, who stood behind her, his arms crossed uncomfortably.

Thea’s eyes widened. “My lord,” she said, bowing slightly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“I’ve heard much about you,” Alexander said, coming up behind Beatrice.

Thea looked at Beatrice, her eyes still wide as an owl’s. “It’s a long story,” Beatrice said with a grin. “But I was hoping I could get a drink from you.”

“Of course,” Thea said, hurrying behind the counter. “What would you like, Lord Dunham?”

He turned to Beatrice and gave a slight shrug. “I don’t know what I want,” he said, “but I bet you can find me something I’ll like.”

Beatrice smiled at her husband. “You’ll like anything here,” she said. “It’s all amazing.”

“Then we’ll have to keep coming back until I’ve tried everything,” he said.

And if Beatrice wasn’t already falling for him, that statement would have pushed her over the edge.