A Promise of More

by Bronwen Evans

  “You were jealous? Of Dunmire? I despise the man. He means nothing to me.”

  “I didn’t like the way seeing you with him made me feel. It felt too much like what my father must have felt with my mother. I simply lashed out.”

  “You’ll have to work on that. I can’t bear it if every time I disappoint you, you try to hurt me by turning to another.”

  “That’s unlikely to happen. It appears I don’t want any other woman.”

  She smiled for the first time that night.

  “I wouldn’t smile. With that comes all the badness.”

  She frowned. “How can being true to your wedding vows be bad?”

  “This is how my father and mother’s marriage started. Happiness, joy, them against the world, but then my father’s behavior and my mother’s jealousy turned their relationship into a battleground. It would appear we Coldhursts are a jealous lot. What if I’m like my father and can’t help but be unfaithful? The rage I felt this evening scared me. I wanted to hurt you for making me feel this weakness.”

  “I did nothing wrong. I did not encourage Lord Dunmire.”

  He took her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “I know that, but at the time I couldn’t stop the anger. I’ve never felt possessive of a woman before. It’s a new feeling, one I didn’t like. I’ll have to get used to it, I guess.”

  “If anyone should be jealous, it’s me. Every woman you meet wants you. Most have had you—”

  “Not most, you exaggerate.”

  She shook her head. “No, I don’t. I don’t understand why you would be jealous of me, though. I’m plain Henpeck Hennessey. Before our marriage I was a twenty-five-year-old, on-the-shelf spinster. All of the ton know you only married me because of Doogie. You have nothing to ever be jealous of.”

  “You’re not plain in my eyes. When you’re in my arms, you’re a goddess and I can’t get enough of you.” He did not add that he knew when a man was lusting after a woman, and Dunmire wanted Beatrice. That is what had set his rage roaring. He would have to watch the man.

  He saw Beatrice shiver and said, “You’re cold. Get into bed.”

  She gave him a tentative smile. “Will you join me?”

  “It will be my pleasure. I’ll just get rid of these clothes and come to bed.”

  As he made to leave, she drew him back and kissed him. “I’m glad we had this talk. I want our marriage to work.”

  He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “So do I,” he said, and as he walked to his dressing room he realized he really meant it.

  Chapter Eleven

  Beatrice hated lying. After their frank talk the other night, lying made her ill.

  However, she seemed to be doing it a lot lately. One small lie was galloping out of control, and she wasn’t strong enough to pull it back in.

  The lie she had just told Marisa and Helen was a big one. “I’m going to visit a friend. She hasn’t been well and is not up to having more than one visitor, so I’m afraid I shall have to go alone. But you girls go and enjoy your day out.”

  “We’ll drop you on the way,” Marisa said. “Then we need only take one carriage.”

  Beatrice tried to keep the panic from showing on her face. She didn’t want them dropping her anywhere, because there was no friend to visit. She wanted to slip away and go and check on Henry. She had her pin money and knew what she had to do. She trusted the lady who was looking after Henry. She paid well for her services, but it didn’t hurt to drop in unannounced every now and then just to ensure he was being looked after properly.

  “Where does your friend live?” Helen asked.

  “She lives just around the corner from the British Museum.” Another lie. “I intend to visit her and then I might actually wander through the museum afterwards. I haven’t been in quite some time.”

  Helen clapped her hands. “Oh, that’s a good idea. We could meet you there and go through the museum together. How long will you need to visit with your friend?”

  Beatrice tried to do the calculations: If she got dropped at the British Museum and grabbed a hackney from there, it would take her a good half an hour to get to Old Kent Road. And she would want to be there for at least an hour to play with Henry, and then it would be another half an hour back. “I’m not really sure, it will depend on how well Sarah is. Why don’t we say two hours just to give us enough time, and if it’s earlier I will just wander around the museum and wait for you.”

  “Well, that’s set then. We’ll drop you off at one o’clock and meet you on the steps of the British Museum at three o’clock. That gives us ample time to have a look through the museum and get home in time to get ready for Lady Dane’s ball tonight. You are coming, aren’t you?”

  Beatrice shrugged her shoulders. “I haven’t spoken to Sebastian today, so I’m not sure whether we are attending or not.”

  “Regardless of whether Sebastian goes, you definitely should attend.”

  “Why is that then?” Beatrice had no idea why Marisa insisted on dragging her to all these balls. She had very few friends and people still talked about her behind her back.

  Marisa sighed. “It’s obvious. The more you are seen in our company, the more you are seen as part of our family, the more likely it is that the ton will begin to accept you and talk less about your marriage to Sebastian. Especially after the Wickham ball fiasco,” she added dryly.

  Beatrice supposed Marisa was right. She did hate the way that the ton seemed to focus on her and Sebastian whenever they went anywhere.

  However, another reason for not attending was she didn’t wish to run into Dunmire again. Sebastian seemed to have fixated on the man, hence why she felt she couldn’t share her secret just yet. She didn’t know how to tell him.

  She certainly didn’t want to go to a ball if Sebastian was not at her side. Dunmire had sent a note to the house. Luckily, the servant had brought her the mail before Sebastian saw it. Soon Sebastian would get very suspicious about why Dunmire was pursuing her so. And she definitely didn’t want her husband to get the wrong idea. Dunmire might be obsessed with her, he might even try to use Henry against her, but she had not an ounce of interest in him.

  Helen was chattering about her mare in foal as the carriage dropped Beatrice outside the British Museum, and the girls waved out the carriage window as they continued on to their modiste in Oxford Street. Beatrice pretended to walk round the corner from the British Museum, but as soon as the girls were out of sight she hailed a hackney.

  Unfortunately, she didn’t see Hadley Fullerton coming out of his mistress’s house just two doors up, nor did she note the frown that flashed across his face at the sight of her, on her own, getting into a hackney. Due to the threat the assassin posed, they were supposed to be accompanied wherever they went.

  Oblivious to the fact Hadley had seen her, she gave instructions to the driver to take her to Old Kent Road. Excitement built in her as it always did when she was going to visit Henry, Lizzy’s son. He was almost two years old and he was taking on his own personality. When she’d sworn on pain of death to see to Henry’s care, Beatrice thought he would be the closest she’d ever come to having a child. Now the idea of children of her own warmed her. She had to find a way to have Henry as part of her family. She couldn’t give him up.

  Her brother and mother had flatly refused to raise Lizzy’s bastard, so she’d kept secret the fact she was paying for Henry’s upkeep. They barely had enough money for themselves; if her family had known she was siphoning a small amount for Henry …

  If Dunmire ever found Henry, she would be in his power. But now she had Sebastian. He would protect her. She couldn’t bear to think the child could fall into Dunmire’s hands.

  Lizzy had endured tragedy in her short life. She would turn in her grave if Beatrice failed her and Henry.

  Unfortunately, she still could not see much of Lizzy in Henry. He was all Dunmire and that is what scared her. If anyone saw Henry, they would know exactly who his father was.

 
; She finally arrived at the small house just off Old Kent Road. It was a pleasant enough abode, certainly not as run-down as some of the other houses in the area. What little money Lizzy had when she died, she had left to Beatrice to ensure Henry’s well-being. However, after leasing the house and paying for the nurse to look after Henry, she still had to provide funds for his upkeep. She clutched her reticule close to her. She had brought enough money to last for the rest of the year, all her pin money. Thank God Sebastian had been generous.

  She didn’t bother knocking on the door. She simply let herself in. The house was quiet, but she could hear a young child laughing near the kitchen. She smiled with relief. That was a good sign to hear him so happy. She finally called out for Monica, the nurse. The plump, middle-aged woman appeared in the kitchen doorway with Henry in her arms. When the little boy saw Beatrice, his face broke into a bigger smile and his arms reached forward and he murmured the words she loved to hear, “Bea, Bea.”

  The clutching in her chest tightened as she opened her arms to take Henry from Monica. When his little hands clapped her cheeks and he gurgled with delight, she wished with all her heart she could take him home with her. In a blinding flash she knew what she had to do. She had to confess all to Sebastian. He was a good man. A kind man, and she would rely on his conscience to help her.

  Beatrice kept a close eye on the time. She had a good talk with Monica about Henry’s health. He seemed to be a robust little boy. She gave Monica the pin money and informed her of her new address so that the nurse could reach her if there was an emergency.

  She asked if anyone had been snooping round; she wanted to make sure Dunmire hadn’t found the house or the boy. Monica shook her head and said everyone supposed the child was hers. Monica told them that Henry was her sister’s son and her sister had died in childbirth.

  Leaving Henry was always hard, but today he clung to her and cried when she had to go. It tore at her heart. Soon. She would have him in her house soon. She would find a way, even if Sebastian never trusted her again.

  All too soon she was back in the hackney, making her way to the museum. She arrived five minutes late and, peeking surreptitiously from the carriage window, saw Marisa and Helen waiting for her on the steps of the museum, so she asked the driver to continue on round the corner and drop her off where she had first summoned him. Then she walked calmly back round the corner to the British Museum as if she were coming from her friend’s house.

  The girls were quite excited and chattering all at once, talking about the dresses that they had ordered and saying it was such a shame that she hadn’t been with them. They had found a beautiful piece of silk that would have made a lovely dress for her. She promised to go with them for their second fitting and look at more new gowns. They spent a wonderful hour at the museum and then made their way back to Sebastian’s house, her trip to visit Henry a secret …

  Hadley and Sebastian went over the evidence they had collected so far. Sebastian knew he still had to go and speak to Clarice. He was pretty sure that someone must have paid her to entice him into her bed that night. He would go and see her tonight. Hadley had told him that Clarice had a new protector, and that her protector was out of town for the next week, so it was a perfect opportunity to see her without ruffling any feathers.

  But something about Hadley’s demeanor had Sebastian’s senses on alert. He had been absentminded most of the meeting, as if something were playing on his mind.

  “What is it, Hadley? I don’t believe I have your full attention. Not woman troubles, I hope?”

  Hadley just stared at him for a moment. “Not exactly.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  Hadley sighed, walked to the sideboard, and poured both himself and Sebastian a brandy. “You might need this.” They both drank and Sebastian closed his eyes and smiled as the warmth slid down his throat.

  “Where is your wife today?”

  Sebastian shrugged. “I’m assuming the girls have gone shopping. They were talking about getting some new gowns. Beatrice must have gone with them. Don’t worry, they are guarded wherever they go.”

  “That is strange, then. I saw her hailing a hackney outside the British Museum this afternoon and she wasn’t with the girls, she was very much on her own and unguarded.”

  Something in Sebastian chilled. Why would she be hiring a hackney to take her anywhere when his carriage could take her wherever she wanted to go?

  Unless she didn’t want him to know where she was going. If she were going to visit her family, he would not mind. “Perhaps the girls needed the carriage and she decided to go and visit her mother on her own,” he said.

  Sebastian refused to think the worst of her until he had at least had a chance to talk to her. He’d made that mistake yesterday when he was so upset about seeing her with Dunmire. He would not go through a repeat performance of the other night. The talk they had had cleared the air and taught him to ask questions before flying off into a rage. He would give her a chance to explain where she had been and what she was doing.

  He pushed the worry about Beatrice from his mind. They would talk when he got home.

  “If you are going to Lady Dane’s ball tonight, can I leave you to escort the ladies?” Sebastian asked Hadley. “I’ll visit Clarice tonight while everyone is otherwise occupied.”

  Hadley merely nodded. “I’m quite happy to escort the ladies on your behalf.”

  Sebastian sat in silence finishing his brandy. He couldn’t get Hadley’s observance of his wife’s behavior out of his mind, and for some reason his stomach knotted and tension ravaged his body.

  Like venom from a snake bite, poisonous thoughts entered his head. What if she was with Dunmire? He didn’t quite know why Dunmire’s name occurred to him, but something about the two of them at the ball the other night made him uneasy. They had seemed very familiar. Too familiar.

  I’m not my father. I am not jealous of a woman I was forced to marry.

  Beatrice said she deserved to be trusted. He would trust her until she proved untrustworthy.

  The thing Beatrice loved most about Sebastian’s house in Mayfair was the big bathing chamber between their two rooms. The bath was a huge luxury and she knew she probably used it far too much. But to have hot running water at the touch of a tap was a marvel she never grew tired of.

  So after her visit to Henry and the look round the museum, her first port of call when she got home was to take a luxurious soak in a hot bath. She needed to ease the tension in her neck and shoulders. All this sneaking around and lying did not sit easily with her.

  She relaxed back against the tub and closed her eyes and let the scent of lavender from the bath oil soak into her skin. She didn’t know how long she had been lying there before she heard a splash and opened her eyes to find Sebastian climbing into the tub with her. A smile automatically lit her face. She couldn’t help it—her husband was so handsome.

  “I haven’t seen my beautiful wife all day,” Sebastian said in a seductive purr. “I couldn’t think of a better place to have an interlude.”

  “I’ve missed you too,” she said.

  Sebastian moved round so that he was behind her and she was cradled against his chest. She could feel his hardness throbbing against her buttocks as he pulled her into his embrace and found the soap. He began rubbing the soap in his hands until they were covered in lather. Then he gently put them on her shoulders and started massaging her neck.

  “You are so tense. What has got you worked up?”

  Tell him. “Nothing really, everything really. New house, new home, new family, society watching my every move.”

  “Is there a problem with people watching you so closely?” Sebastian’s hands slipped lower down her front and her body tensed. “I thought you would have had a nice relaxing time with the girls today. Where did you go?”

  She wanted to tell him but not here. Not like this. Both naked. She felt too exposed and vulnerable. “I went to visit a friend who hasn’t be
en very well. The girls went on to the modiste and then we met back at the British Museum and explored for about an hour.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that a friend of yours is sick. What is her name?”

  “Her name is Monica, Monica Devoroux.”

  “And where does Monica Devoroux live?”

  Beatrice tried to ignore Sebastian’s hands that were gently gliding over her breasts, more worried about where the conversation was heading. “She lives just behind the British Museum.”

  Sebastian’s fingers tugged on her tightened nipples. The pull was almost painful.

  She was lying. Sebastian could feel it in the tenseness of her body, even if he didn’t know that she had hired a hackney just round the corner from the museum and had headed east. She hadn’t been to visit a friend near the museum. She had gone somewhere else and she was hiding where she went from him.

  All his instincts were on alert. He wondered if she was trying to find out something about Doogie’s killer without him. He hoped that was all her deception was. Anything else was unforgiveable. Trying to ascertain the identity of the killer without him would be a stupid and dangerous thing to do. But he didn’t want to alert her to the fact he knew she had lied to him.

  Disappointment swamped him. She seemed to lie so easily; what else had she lied about? His conversation with Christina came to mind. Had Dunmire offered for her before she came to him? If she had lied about that, she had disrespected him in the most vile way. All they had to base this marriage on was trust and respect. If they lost that … he would send her to his estate near York—as far from him as possible.

  Beatrice had tensed up and he could tell that she was waiting to see what his reaction was. He didn’t want to give himself away. So he did what any man does when he wants to take his woman’s mind off the current situation. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against her neck.

  “I hope Monica didn’t tire you out. I hear you are going to Lady Dane’s ball tonight. Hadley will accompany you and Marisa. I, however, will be pursuing a lead concerning Doogie’s death.”