The Stolen Diadem of a Castaway Lady: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Hanna Hamilton

  But that is what Peter wanted. He wanted to gaze upon another human being with an air of contented joy about him, just as he’d seen his friend do. He wanted someone—anyone, thief or noble, it did not matter—to return that same look and be filled with longing.

  “And so sayeth the officers of the court on this date, do you enter into this agreement with sound mind and body?” the solicitor asked in a very formal tone.

  No one spoke for some time, and Peter was rather shocked when he felt a sharp kick to his ankle. He jumped and looked around at the displeased faces before him.

  “I’m sorry, did you say something?” he asked, and his father very nearly growled.

  The solicitor looked vaguely alarmed, but nonetheless he repeated, “And so sayeth the officers of the court on this date, do you enter into this agreement with sound mind and body?”

  Peter blinked and looked down at the documents in front of him, all of which were ready to be signed in his hand. He looked to his left and stared at the face of his father, who now wore an expression that Peter couldn’t remember seeing before. Over his father’s shoulder, his mother stared at him, her face suddenly a mask of nerves.

  Looking between them, Peter was struck by the fact that his own parents had certainly made an arrangement such as he was about to enter into. They had always been cordial to one another, if not enamored, but he knew that to be only a stroke of luck. Largely due to his mother’s easygoing nature and the fact that she had been the one to bring the wealth to the marriage through her father’s trading company, his father had seemed to develop an affection and respect for her.

  Could Peter expect the same? And was “fondness” all he could hope for from a wife?

  “My son,” the Earl of Weavington said through clenched teeth, “the official has asked you a question.”

  “Oh, that. Yes, yes, I agree. Sorry, my mind was elsewhere for a moment,” Peter said, coughing nervously. “So, do I sign something?”

  Chapter 18

  Beatrix barely made it back to her room before the tears began to pour. What had she been thinking? She had allowed the Marquess to kiss her, and worse, she had kissed him back as well. How could she have bared her heart in such a way, knowing that it cannot possibly end well?

  Worse were the words that came after: I’m sorry. Lord Bellton had actually apologized for what had been the single most wonderful moment of her life, a moment she had never dared dream could be so magnificent. And then he destroyed even the memory of it by acting as though he’d done nothing more than step on her toes while dancing!

  “This is a nightmare of the worst sort, the kind that nags at one’s heart and torments them to prevent any hope of forgetting!” Beatrix cried as she climbed onto the bed and settled her arms around a pillow.

  From the bed, Beatrix could see out one of the tall windows that overlooked the wide courtyard to the rear of the house. Her heart sank when she took notice of Callum, who paced the courtyard with his eyes downcast, his hands nervously wringing in front of him. How could she have been so stupid as to be played for a fool by one such as he?

  There was a knock at the door, and after looking to the window once again to be certain it wasn’t Callum, she bade the person enter.

  “I brought you something to eat, miss,” Birdie said as she and Greta entered with a tray and water to wash with. “I didna hear you come back and I knew ya wasn’t here for a meal earlier… why, whatever’s the matter?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing,” Beatrix said, sitting up and wiping her eyes. She attempted to appear more pleasant, but only succeeded in making herself cry harder. “I cannot say, it’s too awful.”

  “There, there miss!” Greta said, coming to Beatrix’s side and putting a comforting arm around her shoulders. “Whatever it is, it cannaw be so bad as all that!”

  “But it can!” Beatrix cried. “I just need to be away from here, I need to go home to my family!”

  Greta and Birdie exchanged a worried look, seemingly worried that there could be some trick on the young lady’s part to engage their services in aiding her escape. But surely she’d had so many opportunities to flee, she would not have needed to wait until now.

  “We’ll help ya, miss!” Birdie finally said proudly. “Dontcha worry, we’ll find a way to get ya out and on yer way again!”

  “What?” Beatrix asked, looking hopeful. “You’d do that for me?”

  “Of course. Yer a kind sort, and I cannaw believe what other folks say ya done. You’ve been good to Greta and me, and we’ll help ya get outta here.”

  “I don’t even rightly know where I am, nor which direction I must travel,” Beatrix admitted. “Where are we?”

  “I’ll have to inquire downstairs where you might be heading, miss. I’ll look to see where ya should go and when it may be safe to sneak out,” Greta added helpfully.

  “But don’t trouble yourself on my account,” Beatrix cried. “Please do not put yourselves in danger of losing your positions for me.”

  “We shall not, don’t ya worry,” Birdie said. “If we can find a way, we will help ya, ‘tis the least we can do!”

  Callum retired to his chambers, much confused about the afternoon ride. How had it taken such a strange turn? It had been a rather pleasant experience, despite their constant quarrel over their views of wealth and privilege. Only he had ruined it. He had been so enamored of Beatrix that he knew not what he was doing, he had simply acted without thinking.

  But unless he imagined it from the pure longing he’d succumbed to, she had kissed him back as well. He could never expect her to return even a measure of the affection he felt for her, not with the manner in which he had treated her thus far. His mind reeled with the memory of her hands clutching at his jacket, though, clinging to him unexpectedly.

  “There is no hope that she might desire me,” he argued softly.

  “Who, My Lord?” his valet asked, stepping out from behind the wardrobe.

  “Oh, Barclay! I’m sorry, I did not know you were here,” Callum muttered, his face growing hot.

  “Apologies, My Lord. I was returning your articles of clothing from the laundress. Is everything all right?”

  “Yes, yes. It’s no matter,” Callum said wistfully. “Just something I was thinking of from earlier.”

  He waited awkwardly for Barclay to finish and leave, then sat down and fretted. He had surely scared the poor woman away with his untoward advances, and she was most likely at this very moment plotting her departure. Not that he could blame her, of course, as he wished to be anywhere other than here at the moment himself.

  All thoughts of shame dissipated under the memory of Beatrix’s touch. The softness of her lips, her hands when he’d held them, all reminded him of how innocent she seemed. He could no longer believe she had any part in the crime against him, even if she knew those who had.

  “Barclay?” Callum called out. He waited a moment for his valet to appear at the door. “Oh good, you’re still here. Please inquire as to whether my guest is otherwise occupied. She may not be in good spirits, but I must speak with her.”

  “Very good, My Lord,” Barclay said before hurrying to comply.

  Please let her listen to reason, he thought, unable to think why she would. After all, it would be miraculous if she would even speak with him, considering the look on her face when she’d run from him earlier.

  “My Lord, your guest is available but… I’m afraid she reports that she is not receiving visitors at this time,” the valet said awkwardly, avoiding looking at Callum. He sensed that Barclay had heard more than that from Beatrix.

  “Of course. Would you please take her this letter then?” Callum replied. He reached for his pen and drew a sheet of paper from his drawer. He forced himself to write slowly and deliberately, the words pulled from his thoughts slowly.

  “Please wait for her reply,” Callum instructed. The butler bowed slightly and hurried out.

  Callum paced the floor while Barclay was gone. He’d hoped t
o redeem himself in her eyes with his offer, but he knew that she would first have to agree to hear him out. In truth, he knew not why she’d run from him, though it did not take much to imagine.

  “My Lord, Miss Beatrix was very pleased to receive your letter,” Barclay said when he returned. “She read its contents and smiled profoundly, and bid me reply to you. She most gratefully accepts your offer and will leave on the morrow.”

  Callum sighed. “Very good, Barclay, thank you. I’ll see her off then.”

  “My Lord, if I may… are you sending her off so soon? She’s only just arrived,” the valet asked, frowning.

  “I must. It is the proper thing to do, and as she does not wish to remain here, I have no choice.” Callum looked up at the valet’s worried expression and tried to offer a reassuring smile. He nodded briefly and the valet left him to his thoughts without another word.

  And it is the right thing to do, no matter how confused it makes me feel. In all of this, I have forgotten the most critical aspect of the entire incident…

  He was prevented from further analysis by a knock at the door. He rose to answer it himself and was taken aback by the appearance of Beatrix at the door. She radiated an awkward air, as though she was none too comfortable approaching him in his chambers. Wondering how she’d even known where she might find him, Callum stood back, waiting for her to speak first.

  “I thought I might speak to you after all,” she began, looking around and noting that these were the private quarters Callum had showed her as he’d led her through the house to dinner. Was it really so long ago?

  “Of course,” he replied softly. “But let us go downstairs to the sitting room.”

  She nodded, and he gestured for her to join him. They walked the length of the hallway some distance apart, neither of them speaking until they passed the grand marble staircase and reached the more proper location. He held the door for her and Beatrix entered the ornate room, already lit with crystal oil lamps despite the late afternoon hour.

  “My Lord,” she began quietly, looking down in order to avoid meeting his gaze, “I wish to thank you for allowing me to return home. Once I arrive, you have my word that I will do all that I can to retrieve your missing item.”

  Callum did not answer, but rather watched Beatrix in silence. Something inside her had been broken, and he knew he was to blame. Whether it was his advances earlier or his letter informing her she was free to leave at any time, it did not matter. He had brought this ill spirit into her otherwise fiery self.

  “I like it not when you call me that,” Callum finally said.

  Beatrix forced herself to look at him. “What offense have I committed? I didn’t call you anything.”

  While her words were as common to her personality as ever, there was no spiteful passion to them, only a resigned explanation. The silence between them grew as Callum struggled to find the words.

  “You have never before addressed me by my title,” he finally said, realizing painfully that there was some measure of vanity in it. “It almost seemed liked a conscious effort on your part, intentionally designed to avoid showing me the respect that so many think I’m due simply by my right of fortunate birth. Now, after only these few days, I find that I despise the sound of it… at least when you say it.”

  “Why do you think that is, My Lord?” Beatrix asked, the corners of her mouth turning up slightly in the faintest sort of wicked smile.

  “I don’t really know,” Callum answered, shaking his head. “Perhaps it’s because I knew I would have to earn that sort of respect from you rather than stomp my finely slippered foot and demand it. But I find that I have done nothing to earn it, other than to now do what I should have done from the moment I first met you.”

  “I don’t understand,” Beatrix began, and Callum bid her sit. He joined her at a small table, sitting a safe distance across from her but leaning forward earnestly.

  “In looking back, I find that I have behaved inexcusably since the moment I first encountered you. I have treated you worse than any lowly criminal, locking you away against your will. I have manipulated your emotions, and then attempted to bribe your good graces with fancy rooms and excursions. Then, the most egregious offense of all, I took complete advantage of your growing affections this afternoon. I’ve now tried to excuse my behavior—only to selfishly ease my own conscience—by resorting to that age-old notion that I was unable to control myself while in awe of your beauty and intellect. Every facet of my behavior has been inexcusable, and I do not have the capacity to express how sorry I am.”

  Callum’s word came out in a rush, as though only sheer force of will had held them back for so long. Beatrix blinked in surprise as he attempted to explain himself, and when he finished, he noted with fear how she seemed unconvinced.

  “So what is it you would have me do?” she asked, though her voice was not unkind. “I am to leave this place and seek out your property, or be gone and forget about it?”

  “First, I am not deserving of any effort on your part,” he answered. “You have endured so much, not the least of which is my rude treatment of you today in the stables. But I also find that I’ve overlooked one of the most critical notions in my behavior, and that is how my mother would have thought of my actions.”

  “Your mother? You mean to say, your memory of her?”

  “Precisely. I never once stopped to consider what she would have done should she still be with us.” Callum closed his eyes for a second, a pained expression on his face. When he continued, he said, “She would be gravely angry with me for how I’ve treated you, even though I claimed that all I’ve done was meant to honor the heirloom she left me. My mother was the sort who would have unhappily parted with her property, then when there was nothing more to be done, consoled herself with the notion that perhaps a thief needed it more than she.”

  “That is truly a noble response,” Beatrix admitted. “There are not many people, regardless of their social class, who would be so generous with their justification of another’s actions.”

  “That is precisely who my mother was, and I have failed at learning the lesson she taught me. Instead of adhering to the idea that one in your family needed the headpiece more, I sought revenge by taking their most precious item… you.”

  Callum hung his head but Beatrix was silent. Without looking at her, he added, “To be honest, I only strove to be kinder to you in hopes of swaying your views on returning it to me. It was only after I ceased acting like a villain myself that I came to see you as an intelligent, spirited, beautiful creature.”

  “You speak of me as though I am an unbroken horse,” Beatrix said, laughing lightly.

  Callum forced a weak smile. “You don’t have to make excuses for me. I know you only jest as a way to excuse me for my own crimes.”

  “The crime of being thusly devoted to your mother’s memory? I hereby find you guilty,” she said. “Your sentence is to allow me to return home and attempt to return your property to you.”

  “Of course,” Callum conceded. “You are free to go. But you are under no obligation to seek out my belongings or return here. I have taken more of your time than I had any right to.”

  “As you wish,” Beatrix conceded quietly, trying to calm the tremble of emotion and disappointment in her voice. “Then I’ll return to my room and leave on the morrow.”

  “Will you dine with me this evening?” Callum asked after a weighty pause. “I mean, only should you wish to have some company, and not because of any obligation.”

  “Of course. I should welcome a pleasant evening of conversation!” she answered brightly. “I shall rather enjoy a final chance to argue bitterly with your every thought and utterance!”

  Callum laughed boisterously, genuinely amused by her attempt at bringing him out of his dark mood. “Then I must prepare my list of debate points in an attempt to beat your every effort.”

  Beatrix nodded and excused herself, leaving Callum to sift through the tempest of emotions he w
as left with. He dreaded the inevitable departure of his most intriguing guest, but he relished the thought of one last evening of conversation and company. Most of all, his heart was lifted at the thought that his earlier indiscretion was forgiven, though it would do him no good once she left in the morning.

  Chapter 19

  “My Lady, would you like your supper now?” the housekeeper asked hopefully. Lady Miriam startled slightly, her thoughts having been elsewhere.

  “Certainly, thank you,” she answered in a faraway voice, still pondering her brother’s letter.

  It had come only that afternoon, informing her that Franklin’s son would be marrying and inheriting a significant title. The unwelcome news put her in a difficult situation; now the young man would be drawn elsewhere. She had long counted on Peter to take his place in her household, as her marriage had left her with no children.