“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 to 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.
