A Scandalous Bargain

by Burke, Darcy

  He owed her those jewels.

  Beatrix strode from the room and hurried downstairs. Selina stood near a bench in the staircase hall, her features creased with deep concern.

  “Are you all right? Worth left without speaking to me. He looked upset.”

  “We’ll discuss it in the coach,” Beatrix said tightly.

  Selina came forward and took Beatrix’s arm. They left the house without sparing a glance for the footman who opened the door.

  When they were situated in the coach and on their way, Beatrix finally released her pent up emotions. “Bollocks. Bloody hell. Damn everything.”

  Selina frowned deeply. “I knew I shouldn’t have left.”

  “It wouldn’t have changed anything.” Instead, it would have only made things worse. Selina would have been upset by his threats. Beatrix had one regret—that she hadn’t asked him specifically what he knew.

  “What happened?” Selina watched her cautiously, her features a mix of warm support and disappointment, not for herself but for Beatrix. She alone understood how badly Beatrix had wanted a happy reunion with her father.

  “He doesn’t care for me at all. He has no desire for any sort of relationship or connection. As I expected, he would never acknowledge me.”

  “He wasn’t even pleased to see you?”

  “On the contrary. He was quite put out. Jamie, bless him, tried to advocate on my behalf, but the duke banished him.”

  Selina clucked her tongue. “He did not look pleased when he passed me on his way out.” She shook her head. “I’m so sorry, Beatrix. Did you even bother asking about your mother’s demi-parure?”

  “I did, but that was also pointless. He refused to consider it.” She thought back over his words, growing angry at how awful he’d been. “He had the nerve to tell me life wasn’t fair—as if I don’t already understand that—and that I should be proud I’d made it this far.” Before going on to suggest she could always be some man’s mistress if needs must. She couldn’t bring herself to tell Selina what he’d said.

  Selina’s lip curled. “No thanks to him.” She gave Beatrix’s leg a firm pat. “He’s right that life isn’t fair and that you’ve come a long way. Which is precisely why you don’t need him. You will shortly have the backing of the Earl and Countess of Aylesbury.”

  “I’m just sorry that the duke is now aware of the fact that I’ve lied about being your sister, and that you—and now Rafe—have gone along with that lie.” They’d known they were risking themselves, but Beatrix had never imagined things would go this poorly.

  “Does he mean to expose us?”

  Beatrix heard the hitch in her voice and hated that she might be worried about this. “I don’t think so. He was rather clear that we could just avoid each other and that would make him happy. I don’t think he wants to cause trouble—provided I don’t cause any for him.”

  Selina let out a breath. “That’s a relief, but I am still very sorry. This wasn’t the result you were hoping for.”

  No, it wasn’t. She’d spent so long, her entire life it seemed, looking for a way to get back to the family she’d known and loved as a child. She should have realized that family was long gone, that it had died with her mother.

  A sudden wave of sadness engulfed her. When she got home, she wanted to go directly to her chamber and dive under the coverlet of her bed where she’d stay for the next week. Or mayhap a year.

  No, she couldn’t do that. Selina was getting married on Tuesday, and Beatrix would be standing beside her as witness in the church. They were sisters in every way that mattered.

  Beatrix looked over at Selina and blinked back the tears in her eyes. “The duke made me realize one thing. I mean, I already knew it, but I will never, ever take it for granted.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Family is who we choose. Blood doesn’t matter.”

  Selina smiled. “No, it doesn’t. You will never be rid of me.”

  “Nor you of me.”

  They hugged each other, which was a bit awkward in the small space of the coach. Laughing, they sat back as they turned into Cavendish Square.

  “Grieve. Rage. Wallow. Do whatever you must,” Selina said. “But only until Tuesday. From then on, you will strike a new path. Think about what you want that to look like.” She gave Beatrix a pointed look of encouragement.

  A new path. The future lay before Beatrix. The only thing she knew for certain was that she was going to get her mother’s jewels.

  Chapter 10

  Thomas felt a bit strange to be out in public, particularly at church, which he only went to periodically, but it was the only way he could think to see Beatrix. Today was the last day the banns were read for her sister—who wasn’t really her sister—and he’d been hoping Beatrix would be there. He was glad to see that she was and had spent a good portion of the service stealing glances in her direction. She sat several pews in front of him, and as far as he knew, wasn’t aware of his presence.

  “I’m so glad you invited me to accompany you today,” Aunt Charity said as they strolled from the church after the service. “Even if I don’t fully understand your motives,” she added in a whisper.

  His motive was singular: to see Beatrix. And determine if his impression from the other night, that she’d been telling him goodbye, was correct. He needed to know if their…whatever it was had reached its conclusion. Of course, he would reveal none of this to his dear aunt.

  “My only motive is that I wished to get out of the house.”

  “Well, I am happy to accompany you wherever you’d like to go.” She exchanged looks and smiles with others as people gathered in the vestibule. “Do you mind if I speak with a few ladies?”

  “Not at all.” Thomas would take the opportunity to hopefully talk to Beatrix. He tried not to make eye contact with anyone as he lingered near the wall and watched for her.

  She came out finally, followed by Lady Gresham and Sheffield, who were arm in arm. Behind them were his parents, the Earl and Countess of Aylesbury. And after them, some of the rest of the family. They’d come en masse, apparently, but then they were a large family.

  Thomas caught himself frowning. He doubted he’d be able to get any time alone with Beatrix.

  Except something magical happened. Her gaze met his. Surprise flashed in their hazel depths, followed by a question. Why are you here?

  Thomas gave a tiny shrug and, barely inclining his head, moved toward the corner. She did the same. A few moments later, they met.

  “I’m surprised to see you here,” Beatrix said.

  He surveyed her from head to toe, appreciating her smart sage-green walking gown trimmed in a blue so dark, it was nearly black. She looked elegant, and the ensemble made her appear taller, perhaps because of her high straw hat with its trio of feathers. “I was hoping to see you.”

  “Oh.” A smile teased her lips. “That’s nice. This is, er, strange.”

  “Because it isn’t dark and you’re wearing a gown?”

  “Nor are you in a mask. It’s like we’re normal people.” She laughed softly, and he joined her.

  He glanced around, knowing they wouldn’t have much time alone. Furthermore, they hadn’t been officially introduced, so they oughtn’t be talking at all. He got straight to his purpose. “I saw you leaving your father’s yesterday afternoon. What happened?”

  She blew out a breath, and he could have sworn he heard the barest whisper of a curse. “It was an abysmal failure.”

  “Tell me.” Even before he heard what transpired, Thomas wanted to pummel the man into the ground.

  “It’s a very long story, beginning with my revealing my identity to my half brother at the masquerade.”

  “You did?”

  “I had to. He was going to speak to Rafe about courting me.” She made a slight face, scrunching her mouth.

  Thomas wondered if he was going to have to pummel her half brother too. “What did he say?”

  “He was remarkably supportiv
e, if you can imagine that. He said he would accompany me to see our father, so we arranged to meet at his house.”

  Thomas had a hard time imagining it, actually, but was glad. “I saw Lady Gresham was with you as well.”

  “I was trying to be proper.” Beatrix let out an unladylike snort. “Not that it mattered. The duke has no interest in getting to know me or in reestablishing any kind of relationship. He was rather cruel about it.”

  Yes, definitely a pummeling. Thomas flexed his hands. Not that he would actually commit violence. He could not. “I’m so sorry, Beatrix,” he said softly, aching to smooth the agitated lines from her forehead.

  A weak smile lifted her lips. “It was a dream I should have known would never come true.”

  Thomas’s hand curled into a fist. The man had ruined Beatrix’s dreams. Just as Thea had ruined Thomas’s.

  He was running out of time, and he still needed to ask about the future of their friendship. “I wondered if you planned—”

  “Rockbourne!” His aunt’s voice reached him just before she did.

  Stiffening, Thomas exchanged a charged glance with Beatrix before looking toward his aunt. “Aunt Charity.”

  Aunt Charity blinked at Thomas expectantly.

  “Aunt, this is Miss Beatrix Whitford.”

  “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance,” Aunt Charity said.

  Thomas looked to Beatrix. “Allow me to present my Aunt Charity, Mrs. Holcomb.”

  Beatrix dipped a curtsey. “I’m pleased to meet you.” Then her gaze drifted to the right and widened slightly.

  Thomas followed her line of sight and saw her sister, Sheffield, and some of his family. Lady Gresham was looking at Beatrix and now she was studying Thomas, her brow creased.

  “Please excuse me,” Beatrix said. “It was lovely to meet you both.” Then she was gone, hurrying to the other side of the vestibule.

  “Ready?” Thomas asked, offering Aunt Charity his arm.

  She curled her hand around his sleeve. “Yes.” She glanced after Beatrix before directing her attention forward as Thomas guided her outside.

  “She seemed lovely,” Aunt Charity observed.

  “Yes,” Thomas said as they crossed the street.

  “Did you just meet her?”

  “Not exactly. I danced with her at the masquerade the other night.” The second the words left his mouth, he wished he hadn’t said them. He cast a wry look at his aunt. “You possess an uncanny ability to get me to disclose things I would normally not.”

  She laughed gaily. “I’m delighted to hear it, my dear. I hope you know you can trust me.” She squeezed his arm. “Truly.”

  He did know that, which was probably why he’d told her about the dance. “Thank you.”

  “I didn’t realize you’d gone to the masquerade. That’s wonderful! So you met Miss Whitford there.”

  It wasn’t a direct question, so he didn’t answer it. “She is Lady Gresham’s sister.”

  “Ah, I see. Well, I shall keep my opinions and hopes to myself—mostly. It’s good you came out today, if only because you encountered Miss Whitford. Perhaps there’s a reason for that.” She tossed him a wide grin.

  Thomas rolled his eyes. “I am no closer to desiring a new wife today than I was last week. Dancing and going to church make me feel normal, and for now, normal is good.” Normal was great, peaceful. He hadn’t felt that in years.

  “Very well,” Aunt Charity said, sounding a trifle disappointed. “I’m just pleased you are feeling good. That is all that matters to me in the end.”

  As they made their way along Grosvenor Street, he wished he’d been able to finish his conversation with Beatrix. Or did he? That could have been the end of things. But now he could make the excuse that he wasn’t sure if their friendship would continue or not? Since they’d both seemed pleased to see the other, was it too much to hope that they weren’t finished?

  “Since you are getting out,” Aunt Charity said, “perhaps you’d consider attending Lady Exeby’s picnic at Hyde Park.”

  Thomas didn’t know a thing about it. “When is that?”

  “Thursday. Perhaps Miss Whitford will be there.”

  “Aunt Charity. No matchmaking. Please.”

  She lifted her free hand, palm facing out. “My apologies. I am only looking out for your welfare. I know you don’t necessarily want a wife at present, but you do accept that you need one eventually, yes?”

  He refused to commit to an answer.

  “You need an heir.”

  He silently grumbled to himself. “There has to be a relative somewhere.” He thought his father had a cousin.

  “So you don’t mean to wed…ever?” Aunt Charity sounded alarmed.

  “I haven’t made any decisions.” While he supposedly needed a wife, he wasn’t sure he ever wanted another one. After everything he’d been through with Thea and all he’d witnessed with his parents, he had no hope for the kind of marriage he’d once dreamed of. He wasn’t sure he could trust anyone, even Beatrix, whom he admired greatly. And who was also an admitted liar.

  He looked askance at his aunt. “I implore you to abandon this topic.”

  “All right.” She pursed her lips as they continued along for a few minutes. “What about taking a mistress?”

  He nearly tripped. “Aunt Charity!”

  “I’m sorry, but you don’t have a parent or a sibling. And you have this dark cloud over you. A mistress might help.”

  It might. Except the only woman he wanted was Beatrix. And oh, how he wanted her.

  Not as his mistress, however. Also not apparently as his wife.

  A hollow ache opened up inside him, and he rushed to draw it closed. He was fine. Life was returning to normal, as he’d told his aunt, and normal was good. He had Regan, and she had him. They were a family, and that was enough.

  * * *

  After bidding goodbye to Harry’s family, Beatrix and Selina, accompanied by Harry, started toward Hanover Square on their way to Cavendish Square. Beatrix braced herself for the inevitable question.

  “Who were you talking to?” Selina asked. She walked between Beatrix and Harry.

  “That was Lord Rockbourne,” Harry said.

  “Oh!” Selina snapped her head toward Beatrix. “You know him?”

  Beatrix arched a shoulder. She stuck to her rule of relying on at least partial truths. “I danced with him at the masquerade.”

  “You didn’t mention that.” Selina’s tone held a dubious edge.

  “I think he was trying to keep his presence at the ball a secret.” She kept her gaze focused ahead as they entered Hanover Square.

  “Because he’s in mourning?” Selina asked. “I admit I don’t really understand what’s expected at his, ah, level. Harry, is it odd that he was at the ball and at church today?”

  Harry chuckled. “I am not the right person to ask. My brother is the one who has to pay attention to rules. I’d think attending church is something that would be allowed in any instance, surely.”

  “Seems like it,” Selina murmured. “Is he still under investigation?”

  Beatrix held her breath. She’d wanted to ask but didn’t dare draw more attention to her interest in Tom.

  “Yes. Lady Rockbourne’s mother has provided evidence regarding Rockbourne’s temper. Apparently Lady Rockbourne was in fear of him.”

  “That’s preposterous.” Beatrix hadn’t meant to say that out loud. “I mean, I don’t know him, but I’ve heard Lady Rockbourne was the one with a temper.”

  “Have you?” Harry asked with interest. “Is this a specific rumor we could investigate?”

  “Er, no.” Beatrix only knew from listening to the shrew herself. But she couldn’t admit that, nor could she testify to what she’d heard and seen, not without ruining her reputation.

  It was tempting, though. She’d been hoping her reputation would appeal to her father. Not only had it not appealed to him, he knew things about her that most didn’t. To him, her reputatio
n was already in tatters.

  So what did protecting her reputation even matter?

  Because it wasn’t just about her. It was also about Selina. She was on the precipice of a marvelous future, and Beatrix wouldn’t cause her any trouble or pain. Not for anything.

  “Pity,” Harry said. “If we had evidence that Lady Rockbourne had a temper, that could justify Rockbourne becoming angry with her.”

  “Would it justify him pushing her over the balcony?” Selina asked incredulously.

  “No, of course not. Honestly, it will be hard to prove what actually happened without an eyewitness. We either believe the viscount’s version of events, or we investigate whether he might be lying. So far, there does seem to be motivation for him to have at least been angry with her.”

  Beatrix suppressed a scowl. “Being angry with someone doesn’t mean they pushed them.”

  “No, but it’s our duty to investigate all the evidence.”

  Selina was studying Beatrix intently. Before she could ask why Beatrix was defending Tom, Harry thankfully changed the subject.

  As soon as they arrived at the house in Cavendish Square—home, Beatrix reminded herself—Beatrix excused herself and went upstairs. Not only did she want to avoid further questions or curious looks from Selina, she had an errand to run.

  Going directly to the drawer with the box, Beatrix knelt and removed all the stolen items to a small bag. How to proceed to the receiver shop in Saffron Hill—should she go as a woman or dress in men’s clothing? The latter seemed the better choice, so she quickly changed her clothing. The bag had a long strap that she draped across her shoulder so that the bulk of the goods sat against her hip. She donned her coat over the strap and adjusted the bag so it was hidden by the tail of the coat. Finally, she stuck her knife into her boot and tucked her pistol into the specially designed pocket inside her coat.

  After making sure every strand of blonde hair was tucked into her hat, she made her way down the back stairs to the lower level. Escaping this house unnoticed was more difficult than it had been when they’d lived on Queen Anne Street, when the house had been smaller and they hadn’t had a full complement of servants.