“There’s an excellent view from my bedchamber. Of the lake.”
“Lovely for you.”
“Perhaps you might like to view it? Now. Seems as good a time as any.”
“I’m quite busy, my lord. Thank you, though.”
“Ah. Well?—”
She faced him with a slight sigh. “I do beg your pardon, but I find it difficult to concentrate, and I must finish this. You do understand, yes?”Leave.
If it were Richard, he would pull up a chair, sit next to her. That his only answer. Other than a cocky, challenging grin. Then he’d sew his lips shut and rebel in silence. And either she’d be able to concentrate more than before—his irritating presence somehow, contradictorily, soothing—or he’d tease her into what she really wanted.
A kiss.
That’s what she’d wanted that day in this room with him seven years ago. She’d received only heartache instead. He’d prove her right. Men only wanted women for a while. They’d all eventually abandon her, disappoint her, break her. Just as her father had.
Just as Richard had when he’d hurt Selena.
Better to remember his betrayal than how beautifully they’d once fit together.
“Yes, ah. I do understand.” Peterson bowed. “Good day, Miss Bell. Perhaps we’ll speak at dinner.”
She waved and he left, and finally alone, she could no better focus than before. She folded her hands in her lap with a scowl.
The view. From his bedchamber.
“Curses.”
He’d been offering what she’d been angling for since they’d been introduced. And she’d rejected it. Rejected him.
And she did not seem to regret it.
Eight
Three days after the most erotic moment of Richard’s life, he stormed into the Slopevale breakfast room and stood like a soldier before the long table.
Everyone blinked up at him.
John raised a single brow, clearly questioning Richard’s sanity.
Evelina offered a warm smile. “Join us, brother.”
“Where’s Miss Bell?” he asked. And where was Peterson?
“And where have you been?” John asked. “We have barely seen you lately.”
“Busy.” Searching for a brother who could not possibly be in England. He should tell John what Beatrice claimed to have seen, but it was likely nothing. No use worrying him during what should be a worry-free occasion. “Miss Bell?”
The woman had come against Richard’s hand then disappeared, not once seeking him out despite his many and prolonged absences from the party. When he did join the group, she didn’t even look at him.
Peterson, though… she’d looked her fill at him.
And Richard was a few breaths away from turning his brother’s pre-wedding celebrations into a massacre. The only reason he’d not blackened the man’s eye, thrown Beatrice over his shoulder, and carted her off like the brute she called him was because John had already lost one brother to ungentlemanly actions. He should not lose another.
Daniel, oddly, was saving Richard from making a mistake. He was the only thing keeping Richard from using his father’s sabre, an old family heirloom that hung on the wall in the foyer, to lop off Peterson’s head. Or parts lower. Either would work, frankly. No time for mutilations, though, when combing the grounds and surrounding areas looking for his exiled younger brother.
Beatrice hadn’t really seen Daniel. She couldn’t have. But she wasn’t flighty. She’d seensomeone. And he’d discover who. Because if anyone had seen them kissing in the boat before they’d plunged into the lake, he needed to stop the rumors before they shackled her to a man she hated, a man her family would despise.
