Briggs snorted. ‘I am more than capable of securing my own special licence, Kendal. Or do you forget that you do not outrank me?’
He caught his friend’s gaze, and held it for a moment.
He did wonder sometimes, if Hugh forgot. That they were not now schoolboys. That Briggs no longer required his protection, his guidance.
‘I have not agreed to marry you,’ Beatrice said.
Briggs looked down at her, and saw that her eyes were filled with tears. Perhaps he had misread her.
‘Did you fancy yourself in love with James?’ Briggs asked. She said nothing, though her misery seemed to increase. He felt almost sorry for her. ‘You will recover.’
‘Get some sleep,’ Kendal said. ‘There will be a wedding to plan on the morrow. And we will have to inform Mother.’
Chapter Three
Beatrice was desolate. Everything was wrong. And worst of all, she didn’t even know who to speak to about it. Or if she could speak to anyone about it. That was how she found herself slumped in the morning room with nothing but cold meats and eggs for comfort.
It was then that her mother came in.
‘Beatrice,’ she said softly.
It was the softness that nearly broke her.
But everyone was soft with her. Always. Except for Hugh last night. And Briggs had not looked particularly soft either.
Her heart gave a great thud.
Briggs. She was to marry Briggs. In three days’ time. And suddenly, she felt overwhelmed by all she did not know.
About him. About the world. About what was to be between a husband and a wife.
‘You’re crying,’ her mother said.
Beatrice touched her face. There were indeed tears on her cheeks. She had not realised.
‘Did he hurt you?’ her mother said, drawing close to her. She reached out and put her hand on Beatrice’s. ‘Has he...forced you into anything? I will not consign you to an unhappy union, Beatrice. I know that your brother thinks that it’s best but if he...’
Beatrice shook her head. ‘He did not hurt me.’ Hurt? Being held by Briggs had been the furthest thing from hurt. She had avoided thinking of that moment, but now it loomed large in her mind. ‘I am the one that ruined everything. I am the one that caused this.’
Her mother looked at her closely. ‘How exactly did you cause it?’
She explained her plan to her mother. Her ultimate rebellion against Hugh. ‘And I could not tell anyone because you would stop me. But I... I am not as weak as everyone thinks I am. I have... I have dreams. There is a purpose to why I survived my childhood. I nearly died so many times, but I did not. And if I’m simply to live out all my days here at Bybee House, I don’t know...’
‘Oh, Beatrice.’ Her mother put her hand over hers. ‘Hugh does not mean to hurt you in any way. It’s just that he worries for you.’
Her mother loved her, and she knew that. She also knew her mothe
r had spent years deep in the throes of a relationship with Beatrice’s father that had been anything but easy.
In those years, her mother had often been withdrawn. When her father had flaunted his many infidelities, her mother disappeared into her chamber and did not emerge. Or worse, into laudanum.
She had overheard her mother say to a visiting friend once that being married to the Duke would not have been so awful if she did not loathe him and desire him in equal measure.
Beatrice had not understood what it meant. She still did not.
But in the years since her father’s death, her mother had emerged much stronger. Much happier, and Beatrice had never wanted to do anything to disturb that.
‘I know it. But this was more than protection. And I had to do something about it.’