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Chapter twenty-two

Beatrice

Beatrice watched in amazement as Mrs. Jenkins bustled around the library. She had been excited to prepare a proper wedding for Lord Alexander, even if it wasn’t under the happiest of circumstances, and she was doing an incredible job. Details were coming together overnight, and she was making this the wedding of Beatrice’s dreams.

Now, none of Beatrice’s dreams had included a sorcerer trying to marry her husband off to someone else, but that was a small detail. If she overlooked that, everything was practically perfect.

Beatrice took a deep breath and began to sort through the list of invitations once again. Dietrich had promised to deliver the invitations by hand if she had them ready within the hour. If she hadn’t known better, she would have said he simply needed to get out and do something different. He was never very good at staying in one place for long.

She was hoping Sophia would still be in town, but Dietrich was unsure whether she and Caspian had gone back to Riyel before the storm hit.

She hoped they hadn’t, and her friend could attend her wedding.

She took a deep breath and reached for the next list after checking off everyone on the invitation list. Mrs. Jenkins was remarkably thorough, and she’d had to change very little.

The big question…would her father be in attendance?

Would he even see the invitation?

Part of her hoped that Dietrich wouldn’t give it to him, that he’d give in to the part of himself that hated her father and avoid him entirely.

But she had to send an invitation. It was his fault if he didn’t come.

The thought was rather depressing, but she could no longer pretend that she didn’t notice how little he cared. Alexander had learned more about her in the past week than her father knew after her entire life.

She’d always thought that marriage was not for her after seeing the way her mother had disappeared and her father had, too, in his own way. But after being Alexander’s wife for a week, she could almost believe that their marriage would be different.

It was a terrifying thought, but she couldn’t pretend otherwise. She was falling for her husband, and it was only a matter of time before he realized it.

She had no idea how he would respond after everything he’d been through. Would he be willing to give in to love, or would he be more inclined to act as if it didn’t exist?

He seemed particularly determined to pretend that he had no hope. But Beatrice had seen it often enough over the past week to know that instead of his life turning him bitter, it had simply turned him into a man unwilling to let anyone get close to him.

But she’d seen the thorns around his heart beginning to disappear.

Not to mention the fact that he’d almost kissed her twice last night.

“What do you think? Anything else I’m missing?” Mrs. Jenkins asked, coming back in with a handful of tablecloths and napkins. “Tell me which of these you like best, my dear.”

Beatrice grinned. “I think they all look lovely, Mrs. Jenkins, and whichever of those options you pick, I would be thrilled.”

Mrs. Jenkins shook her head. “That’s not how this works, dearie,” she said indulgently. “This is your wedding. If you had to marry him in solitude the first time, the least I can do is make this the grandest event possible.”

It seemed hardly fair that she had to make all the decisions alone. “Speaking of my husband, shouldn’t he be here helping with this?”

“I believe he’s talking with the menfolk about setting up a perimeter,” Mrs. Jenkins said. “I think it’s probably best for you to just do the deciding.”

Beatrice sighed. Of course he was busy. What good was a husband if he didn’t help you make all the decisions you didn’t want to make yourself?

She would just have to choose and hope that he didn’t mind any of the results.

Though he didn’t seem likely to mind any decisions she made—if anything, he seemed more likely to want her to be happy no matter what.

The thought was so lovely she couldn’t quite stand it. After years of being ignored and belittled by the man who should have loved her most, the fact that she had found someone who seemed willing to love her no matter what was thrilling.

Did he love her, though, or was it simply her imagination?

“You seem lost in thought, my lady,” Mrs. Jenkins said. “Can I help with anything?”

Beatrice turned to Mrs. Jenkins. “Do you think Alexander will ever love me?” she asked.

He’d come so close to saying something last night…and she’d thought maybe it would be that he loved her. But he hadn’t said anything else and had even seemed to be avoiding her this morning, despite last night.

Mrs. Jenkins’ eyes widened. “Now that’s a question I wasn’t expecting,” she said.

But her eyes softened as she sat down next to Beatrice. “I think that young man of yours has a very good head on his shoulders and he genuinely cares. Despite the fact that everything in his life seems to be going wrong most of the time, he has never once taken it out on anyone else and has always tried to do what’s best for everyone around him. I think he could be easily convinced to love you if he thought it was in your best interest for him to do so.”

Beatrice shook her head. “I don’t want to convince him to fall in love with me. I want him to just fall in love with me.”

Mrs. Jenkins shrugged. “I find that love is a fickle thing,” she said. “Sometimes it’s hard to know whether you love someone because you’ve fallen, or because you’ve chosen to.”

Beatrice pondered that for a moment. Would he choose to love her?

“And even when you’ve fallen in love, it doesn’t stay those happy butterflies forever. Love is work, dearie, and for those who are willing to put in the work, it is rewarding and wonderful.” Mrs. Jenkins smiled softly to herself. “I think if you were to convince Lord Alexander that allowing him to love you is worth the potential heartbreak, he would work for the rest of his life to love you as hard as he could. And you would have to do the same.”

“I am willing to do the same,” Beatrice said. “I just don’t know that I’m capable of it.” Tears filled her eyes at the words, even as she tried to hide them. From what she’d gathered over the years, her mother’s disappearance hadn’t been foul play. She’d simply given up on her husband and daughter and disappeared.

What if she did the same thing to Alexander?

Mrs. Jenkins reached over and patted her hand. “I understand, dearie,” she said. “I’ve gathered from your young friend that you didn't have the easiest start.”

Beatrice’s ears burned at the thought of Dietrich sharing her life story with Mrs. Jenkins. He never did know when to keep his mouth shut.

“But he told me that despite it all, you are one of the most amazing young women he has ever met, and that if you weren’t practically a sister, he would have already tried to sweep you off your feet. But given your friendship, he thought it best that you had married Lord Alexander.” Mrs. Jenkins laughed. “He is an odd one, that friend of yours, but he is a good man.”

“I think he is, too,” Beatrice agreed. “I suppose you’re right, though. I should allow myself to love my husband…even if I’m scared.”

“Love can be scary,” Mrs. Jenkins said, wrapping her arm around Beatrice’s shoulder and giving her a squeeze, “but I think you’ll find that it’s worth it, dear.”

She let go of Beatrice and stood. “Now, why don’t you run along for a bit. If you truly don’t care about the linens, I can make that decision for you. I think you should go look for Lord Alexander.”

“Thank you,” Beatrice said, nearly hugging the older woman in relief.

Beatrice hurried out of the library, eager to escape the other decisions, and almost ran into Alexander.

“Hello,” he said, reaching out to steady her as she stumbled.

“Hello,” she said shyly. “What are you doing?”

“I was looking for you,” he said. “I heard it’s almost dinner time, and I wanted to see if you would take a short walk with me before then. I know how much you like to walk outside, and most of the snow has melted.”

Beatrice smiled at her husband. “That would be wonderful,” she said, accepting the arm he offered.

“Do you need to change your shoes?” he asked.

Beatrice lifted her skirts to show him the warm boots Guinevere had helped her don that morning. “No need. I think she’s realized there’s always a good chance I’ll be heading outside and I shouldn’t be wearing slippers.”

Alexander as they arrived in the foyer. “I see she’s a smart one. You’re happy with her as a lady’s maid?”

“Very,” Beatrice said, nodding her head. “She suits me just fine.”

Jenkins was waiting by the door with her cloak in hand. Her husband reached for it before Jenkins could help her, and he wrapped the cloak around her shoulders and fastened it tightly, gently pulling the hood over her hair.

There was a tenderness in his gaze that hadn’t been there before.

Perhaps he was taking her on a walk so he could kiss her without being interrupted?

The thought made her heart beat faster.

Jenkins opened the door, and Alexander led her out toward the gardens. The remnants of slush piles were scattered around the yard, and the sound of snow melting and running down the edge of the roof was familiar and comforting. Beatrice took a deep breath, drawing frosty air deep into her lungs.

“I see nearly dying in a snowstorm hasn’t dampened your enthusiasm for the outdoors at all,” her husband said as they turned the corner into a more secluded part of the gardens.

Beatrice looked up at him, the corner of her mouth turning up. “Are you teasing me?”

“Am I?” he asked, looking genuinely surprised.

“I see nearly kissing me twice hasn’t changed your inability to smile,” Beatrice teased back. “Clearly I’m going to have to work on that some more.”

Alexander stopped walking, staring down at her. “Beatrice,” he began, before closing his mouth.

“Are you cursed to be unable to speak about matters of the heart?” Beatrice said gently, giving him a wink. “Because I’ve had some issues with that myself.”

“You find it hard to talk about too?” he asked.

“Of course,” Beatrice said, reaching for his hand. “This is new for me, just as it’s new for you. We have to figure it out together. I find it hard because of my parents, and I’m sure you do too, even if it’s for a completely different reason. But I believe that you and I have a chance at a long, happy marriage.”

“If we make it through tomorrow.”

The words were said quietly, but she heard them.

“We will make it through,” she said, reaching for his other hand. “I have to believe that.”

“Beatrice,” he began again, taking a step closer to her.

“Alexander,” she said softly.

“He has a betrothal agreement,” he said miserably. “He forced my father to sign it. I couldn’t tell you earlier because, well—”

“It’s invalid. You’re already married,” she said with a shrug. “The position of your wife has been filled.”

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this mess,” he said, his features crumpling. “I didn’t know—”

“I’m not,” Beatrice said firmly. “I’m not sorry at all. And we’ll figure it out together. Do you believe me?”

“I want to,” he admitted as she took a step closer and let go of his hands to grip the lapels of his coat.

“Then believe me,” she whispered.

Instead of answering, her husband cupped her cheeks with his hands, leaned down, and pressed his lips to hers.

Emotions swirled through her mind as she kissed him. Fear, uncertainty, but overpowering everything else, love.

She loved him.

She could no longer deny it, even if she wanted to.

She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, pressing herself into him.

One of his arms wrapped around her waist, strong and sure, and his other hand swept through her hair as she pulled back for air, a few breaths required to fill her lungs once again.

So that’s what kissing was like.

No wonder people enjoyed it so much.

She opened her mouth to say something, but something hurtled into her shoulder, knocking her into him. A frantic chirping filled the air as Alexander wrapped his arm around her shoulders, holding her steady.

“What’s wrong?” Beatrice asked.

Rose began dashing back toward the house, then paused, waiting for them to follow her, looking back at them and chirping in alarm.

Alexander and Beatrice looked at each other.

This wasn’t normal.

Beatrice reached for Alexander’s hand as they ran toward the house, where they were met in the foyer by a grim-faced Dietrich and Guinevere, who was openly panicking.

“They’re nearly here,” Dietrich announced, and Beatrice’s heart sank into her stomach.

They weren’t ready.