She had the sense these things connected, but she did not know how. And it was an endless frustration at what was denied her.
She had been so protected here at Bybee House. She was never permitted to go to London. Her father had died when she was a girl and her brother remained unmarried. She had seen interactions between unrelated men and women only at the handful of balls her brother had given and even then it was like...
Watching a pantomime.
It gave only hints and ideas and just enough to be maddening.
‘You can think of other things,’ her mother said. ‘Pleasant things.’
Think of other things. That was what she did when she was forced to engage in needlework. She thought of anything but the project she was currently involved in, as it was untenably boring.
It simply did not sound like anything she might want a part in. And was another resounding point in favour of the facade marriage she had been planning with James.
James.
She would have to speak to James. He undoubtedly had heard.
The door to the morning room opened, and their butler appeared. ‘His Grace the Duke of Brigham is here to call upon the Lady Beatrice.’
Beatrice’s heart gave a start.
‘I suppose I should stay and offer to be your chaperon. But I feel it is a trifle too late. I will let you speak with him.’
Beatrice wanted to call her mother back. Tell her no. Because she was terrified of being alone with Briggs at this current moment. Which was silly, because she had never been terrified before. But she doubted that today he would be bringing her sweets. She doubted it very much.
He had been in her bedchamber last night, and apparently there was something scandalous in that. Last night she had been too upset to truly consider that.
He swept into the room, somehow she could tell he was wearing a different coat than the night before, though this too was black. He looked like a storm. And everything in her went still. She couldn’t breathe.
Her mother dipped her head. ‘Your Grace.’
‘Your Grace,’ he returned.
And then she left them in there. Alone. And the doors closed firmly behind her.
‘Briggs...’
‘We must speak. About the reality of the situation that we find ourselves in.’
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘I know that we do. I know that...’
‘You need not fear anything from me. I am aware of your condition.’
‘My condition?’
‘Your brother has informed me that you were not to bear children.’
‘I...’
‘I have an heir. Already. That will not be an issue.’
That made her desperately sad, and she didn’t even know why. Presumably, she and James would not have had children. After all, theirs was to be a presumptive marriage in name only. Not a true marriage, he had said. She did not know exactly what that meant, but she did imagine that it precluded offspring.
‘You look distressed.’
‘James...’
‘Yes. Are you going to try to tell me that you loved him?’