Prologue
February 1821, London
Sigh no more, Beatrice, sigh no more. Friends were persistent ever.
Beatrice Bell swallowed her sighs and tapped the corner of the unopened letter on the tabletop. Nearby, the porcelain teacup with the faint imprint of her lips at the rim, rattled the tiniest bit. She had known Evelina Denby since childhood, and this letter would be no teary-eyed plea. It would be patient yet determined. Just like Evelina.
But Beatrice had made up her mind, and she would not budge. Not even for Evie. Best get this done with. She broke the wax seal, unfolded the letter, and read. Just as she expected—an impassioned plea to attend Evelina’s wedding, a reassurance that Mr. Richard Clark, the groom’s half brother, would not bother Beatrice one bit, and… was that…? Beatrice peered more closely at the paper. Yes, it was—a single teardrop dried into a single word, wavering the ink that curved intoplease. Cunning. Deliberate. Yet subtle.
Beatrice chuckled. It would be lovely to see Evelina again and in the bloom of new life instead of enveloped in the pallor of her husband’s death. Funerals and weddings brought people together, mourning for the past and celebrating the future.
Tonta. Silly stuff. Nothing mattered but the present.
And Selena. Beatrice’s cousin had barely survived their last visit to Slopevale. Beatrice would not allow her to revisit the pains of that particular past.
She placed Evelina’s letter at the corner of the writing desk and prepared her response. Then, with a hearty sip of her now lukewarm tea, she set quill to paper and wrote.
Dearest Evelina,
I dislike the notion of disappointing you, but I’m afraid Selena and I will not be able to attend your wedding. My father is soon to entrust me with a translation project that will require all my time and intellect. I simply will have no room for diversion in the coming months.
In your letter, you imply I am avoiding Mr. Clark by avoiding your nuptial celebration, but that cannot be further from the truth.Mr. Clark who?is what I say.
I assume he still prowls about Slopevale like a king, charming every man, woman, and beastbut for me. I am the lucky one, being immune as I am. It is a lonely path, however, to see the truth of the man. A viper should never possess such a handsome façade.
Not that I think he’s handsome, mind you. I have no taste for big men like him. Too much of a brute. I prefer a more sophisticated sort.
And, if you must know, Evie, I am a bit scared Mr. Fisher will be in attendance. He was such good friends with your husband-to-be and Mr. Clark. And he disappointed Selena so thoroughly with his disloyal attentions. I will not have her old wounds reopened. As you well know, my cousin is my greatest concern.
And as you also know,RichardMr. Clark is my great adversary.
But my inability to attend has nothing to do with him. I am simply busy. I send all my love.
Your dearest and busiest,
Beatrice
* * *
8 Days Later
Beatrice merely raised a brow when she accepted the letters from the butler. “Thank you, Mr. Cutler.” She sank into a chair in the front parlor as her cousin stripped off her gloves and bonnet. Selena possessed the pale-green Bell eyes, same as Beatrice, but they were unalike in every other way. Selena was tall and willowy with the loveliest gold curls framing her heart-shaped face. Beatrice was rather shorter, curvier; her thick, dark hair a gift from her mother.
“It’s from Evelina. Again,” Beatrice said, tugging her own gloves off and setting her bonnet aside.
Selena sat across from her. “Oh? I’ve recently had an epistle from her as well. I am terribly excited to visit Slopevale once more. And even more excited to see our friends bring one another such happiness.”
Beatrice dropped the letter to her lap unread. “You cannot mean you intend to go!”
“Of course, I intend to do so. She is our closest friend. I would not miss her wedding for the world. You’re not sayingyou would?”
The paper crinkled beneath Beatrice’s folded hands, feeling hot as a coal and thrice as uncomfortable. “It is not in your best interest to revisit that scene.Mr. Fishermight be there.” She whispered the name, unwilling to see the splash of remembrance, then sorrow, flash across her cousin’s face.
But this time… nothing. Selena merely ticked her head to the side, the corner of her lips flipping up. “It will be good to finally put the past behind us.”
“You are too kind, Lena. You should not be. Mr. Fisher abandoned you. And hisfriendsupported the betrayal.”Friend. The word tasted like curdled milk on her tongue. Mr. Richard Clark was no one’s friend.
“No, Bea, I wish him well.”
