Lesson Seven
“It sometimes happens that while gains are being sought for, or expected to be realized, only losses are the results of our efforts.”
—The Kama Sutra of Vatsyayana
BEA HAD BEEN ON HER WAY back to her bedroom for a proper think and a cry when one of the parlor maids intercepted her to say that a gentleman from London awaited her in the library. The plain cream-colored vellum calling card confirmed it. Mr. Billingsby had arrived.
The library door stood ajar. Bea drew a bracing breath and stole a glance inside. Mr. Billingsby stood in profile by the fireplace, his gloved hands clenching the brim of a silk-banded bowler. She’d expected to have another full day, even two, before she needed to gird herself to face him, but the bewhiskered blond head and sloping shoulders showed it was not to be so.
She cleared her throat, opened the door fully, and stepped up to the threshold. He must be deep in thought indeed for he failed to turn about. She feigned a cough, louder this time. “Mr. Billingsby,” she said softly and, drawing a deep breath, started inside.
The Honorable Hamilton Conan Billingsby whipped about to face her. “Beatrice,” he said gravely. In the midst of her discomfiture she started, for until now the only person to call her by her full name was Ralph.
He walked toward her, dropping his hat upon the library rug. “Bother, it!”
Face flushed, he stooped to retrieve the hat as did she. Their foreheads cracked—painfully.
His mortified gaze crawled up to hers. He straightened. “I beg your pardon.”
“It’s quite all right.” Declining the hand he held out, Bea rose, rubbing her forehead. The latter would likely bear the brunt of a bruise before nightfall, the very least her very bad behavior deserved. This is not the best of beginnings, she allowed, and handed him the hat.
He took it, and she couldn’t help but see that his hands shook. Remembering how those trembling, fishy fingers had felt upon her flesh both firmed her resolve and sent her heart sinking. Were she to go through with marrying him, she’d likely find herself installed upon a pedestal for the remainder of her married days. At one time, being on the receiving end of a kind man’s blindly pampering adoration might have sufficed, but no more. Pedestals now struck her as cold and drafty places. Being with Ralph these past days had shown her she didn’t want to be treated as a china doll or admired as a trophy.
She wanted to be loved.
Straightening, Mr. Billingsby sent his pale blue eyes traveling the length of her. Uncomfortable beneath his scrutiny, she waved him toward a chair, but he shook his head. “I should prefer to stand if you do not mind,” he answered.
Bea did not mind. Second to turning and running out the door, she preferred standing, as well.
“I am surprised to see you here, sir,” she said. “That is to say, I would not have expected you to come all this long way.”
His blinking stare put her in mind of an owl. “Did you not? Did you think once I received your wire I would simply go away?”
Bea didn’t answer, for what answer could she give that would not render further hurt? She had indeed thought he would, if not go away, accept her decision without confrontation. It seemed her fiancé—former fiancé— was fashioned of sterner stuff than she’d credited.
“Shall I ring for tea?” she asked, desperate for distraction. Taking his acquiescence for granted, she started toward the bell rope.
“I did not come for tea,” he said, his trembling voice stalling her in her steps. “I came for an explanation—and the chance to change your mind.”
She girded herself with a deep breath. “I am afraid my mind remains unchanged. I still find myself unable to marry you, sir.”
Ironic, really, that it had taken her and Ralph’s naughty games, their dirty lessons to bring her authentic self, her raw honesty to the surface. Now she was done with playacting, done with pleasing people for the sole sake of keeping the peace. Even though she’d hurt Mr. Billingsby—she was hurting him—she reckoned it far fairer to wound him lightly now than to inflict deeper wounds later on.
The cloud crossing his unremarkable features made him appear positively tragic. “You are resolved, then?”
She nodded, determined to make herself perfectly, painfully clear for both their sakes. “I am.”
“There is someone else, is there not?”
“We were never a match,” she said, more gently this time. “Surely I am not the only one of us to know this?”
He swallowed hard. “Hearing the words from your lips is hard, harder than I expected.”
Bea nodded. “As is saying them.” She reached out to pat his shoulder, thought better of it and let her hand drop. “My one regret is to have caused you pain or embarrassment. Anything I may do to ease your burden, you have only to name it. Should you wish to appear to be the one to beg off, I shall support you in your story.”
He shook his head. “I have waited to wed you for two years now. The day you finally accepted me was among the happiest of my life. Now that you tell me a marriage between us is not to be, I find myself unable to care what gossip is put about.”
She reached out and this time her hand found his shoulder. Resting it there, she said, “I am very sorry.”
He ran a hand over his brow. “I realize that my…performance the other evening was…lacking, hardly the stuff of a young lady’s romantic dreams. I was deucedly nervous and, as I said, it was my…er…first attempt. If you will only reconsider, you have my word that I will endeavor to be a good husband to you in…every way.” Blushing, he broke off.
His desperation plucked at her heartstrings, but for both their sakes she held firm. Regardless of whether or not Ralph remained in her life, she would not consign either of them to a loveless and likely sexless marriage.
“What happened or rather didn’t happen between us was as much my fault as yours.”
She’d added the latter to be kind, but hearing the words aloud, they struck her as nothing less than the truth. If the past week of “lessons” with Ralph had taught her anything, it was that to receive sexual pleasure, one must begin by being a good lover oneself. Looking back, she more than suspected that Mr. Billingsby had likely found her performance to be every bit as…dispiriting as she had his.
“Were I to marry you, I would be doing us both a disservice. We both deserve to share our lives with mates for whom we can feel grand passion and enormous love. Someone who feels those things for us in return.”
He hesitated, gaze sliding over her. “By the looks of you, you’ve found it already. You’ve always been pretty, far too pretty for someone like me, but you’re positively blooming.”
“I am in love,” she admitted.
He lifted his chin and sent her a wobbly smile. “Sad though I am for myself, I will endeavor to be happy for you.”
“You are a good man, Mr. Billingsby.”
“Please,” he said, “Call me by my given name.”
“Very well, Hamilton, someday very soon you will find a woman worthy of you, I know you will.”
She meant it. She felt a guilty pang for having spent so very much of her time and energy cataloguing his supposed failings. It had taken her crying off their engagement to appreciate his many finer qualities.
“I hope so.” He puffed out his chest. “Hang hope, I will!” His shoulders sagged. “But first I must find a way to get over you. I shall miss you, Bea. I genuinely enjoy your company.”
“And I yours.” For the first time, Bea found herself honestly returning the sentiment without pretense or obligation. “I’d like us to start over as friends.”
“Friends?”
She nodded, her spirits lifting with relief. Now that the worst was over, she found herself feeling tender toward him. “Yes, friends. I believe that in the years to come we shall be great friends indeed.” She held out her hand.
He grasped it, his palm dry rather than sodden as she remembered it. “Friends. I should like that. I believe I should like it very much.” At the final moment, his face crumpled. He pulled her to him.
“Oh, Hamilton, sweet boy, don’t take on so.” Bea reached out and enfolded him in a heartfelt hug.
RALPH WHIPPED AWAY FROM the library door, lungs locking and heart racing. Bracing his back against the plasterwork wall, he felt as though someone had ripped the heart from his chest, leaving a hole that somehow still managed to ache. Mere feet away, Bea stood wrapped about the milksop, Billingsby, like ivy about a pole. Ralph had arrived in time to hear only snatches of their conversation—scattered murmurings of mutual fondness and futures—but the body language of that embrace told him all he needed to know.
His foolhardy fantasy was finished, the twisted fairy tale at an end. Beatrice might be marrying a frog who might never transform to a prince, but still he was a frog from her own class and kind. She was leaving Ralph as his mother had. Unlike his mum, Bea hadn’t lied at least. She was doing exactly what she’d set out to do. She was seducing her soon-to-be husband and by the looks of them, she was going about it with admirable expertise.
He remembered the railway timetable he’d earlier slid into his jacket’s inside breast pocket and pulled it out. There was no need to wait until next week or even tomorrow. The next southbound train to London arrived inside of two hours. If he left at once, he might well make it. Other than his clothes, he really had nothing to pack.
His fingers fisted about the leaflet. Tossing the balled up paper on the floor, he allowed there were no more “ifs” to consider—and absolutely no more reasons to stay.
KATE LEFT MR. BILLINGSBY in the library with the promise that he would stay long enough for luncheon. As soon as she could, she broke away and bolted for Ralph’s rooms. Telling Mr. Billingsby to his face that she could not marry him had been a hard thing to do, but in the aftermath, it felt freeing. Her and Ralph’s earlier tiff was just that, a silly misunderstanding. Clever and charming, Ralph would soon find another situation, she was sure of it. If need be, she might find work, as well. What mattered was that they loved each other and were free to be together.
Stepping inside, humming alerted her that she wasn’t alone. Spirits sinking, she crossed the main room and followed the singing into the bedchamber.
Hattie stood beside the stripped-down bed. The sheets in which Bea had only just lain were bunched into a ball on the floor. Had the housekeeper paused to peer at them, Bea had no doubt that the traces of their recent lovemaking would have been embarrassingly evident.
Walking over, Bea asked, “Hattie, what are you doing here?”
Hattie looked up from the blanket she was folding. “I might ask you the same.”
Bea allowed she had no choice but to brazen it out. Remembering she was a woman, not a child, she squared her shoulders, lifted her chin, and prepared to stand her ground. “Yes, you might only I asked you first.”
“Clearing out Ralph’s room. He won’t be needing it anymore.”
Bea swung her gaze to the far side of the room. The wardrobe doors stood open, the cabinet’s interior empty save for a few empty hangers.
Panic seized her. “Where is he?”
Pummeling a pillow, Hattie answered, “Gone.”
“Gone?” Bea echoed, stunned. She’d never imagined he meant to leave so soon, let alone without so much as a goodbye.
Hattie nodded. “He left for the train station a half hour ago.”
A half hour ago! She scraped a hand through her hair, belatedly remembering she’d pinned it. Pins spraying, she demanded, “What is his destination? Surely he left a direction?”
Hattie shook her head. “Somewhere in London, but beyond that, he wouldn’t say.”
Feeling as though she might faint for what would be the very first time in her life, Bea gripped the bed rail, the very bed rail to which she’d savored being tied. That her fortunes could so drastically change in just a few hours seemed impossible to wrap her mind around.
“He left this for you.”
Hattie picked up the book that had been lying out on the bedside table and handed it to her. It was The Kama Sutra, of course. Even in absentia, Ralph’s sense of irony remained.
“Thank you.” Feeling like a sleepwalker, Bea stretched out a trembling hand and took it.
For a few seconds she thought to take it back to her room, only she wasn’t at all sure her weak knees would carry her that far. Aware of Hattie watching her, she sank onto the side of the mattress and cracked open the richly bound cover.
She wasn’t really surprised to see a folded note slipped into the spine. Hands shaking, she unfolded the crisp vellum and read.
The proverbial scales have fallen from my eyes, and I see what I should have known since first we met: the impossibility of our ever being together.
Bea paused, gathering herself. Unlike her uneven scrawl, Ralph’s penmanship was precise, elegant.
Hattie’s voice broke in. “What does it say?”
Bea pulled her watery gaze from the paper. “You don’t know?”
“I’m no snoop,” Hattie huffed, drawing up beside her. A moment later, she added, “Besides, he sealed it.”
She returned to the letter.
Even were you not an earl’s daughter, still you are, my dearest, darling girl, far too fine for the likes of me.
A tear rolled down her cheek and struck the page, blurring the ink.
I wish you and your fiancé every happiness. I only hope he has the sound sense to deserve you as I cannot nor ever will. I remain your most loyal friend, humble servant—
—And affectionate tutor…
RS
SITTING AT HER MAHOGANY DESK inlaid with maple, Toby stretched out beside her, Kate was feeling mightily pleased with the turn life had taken. She had a loving husband whom she adored and who supported her in her writing and, indeed, in her every endeavor. Not so very long ago, she’d encountered Bea’s fiancé, Mr. Billingsby, exiting the library in such deep distress it could only mean Bea had come to her senses and broken off their engagement. A short while ago, Kate had put her own dearest daughter down for a postteatime nap and now further family duties were as yet hours away. Running her fingertips over the keys of her new typewriter, a gorgeous black-lacquered beast Rourke had special ordered from the American manufacturer Sholes & Glidden, she looked forward to hours of undisturbed, productive peace.
The door swung open, slamming against the freshly painted plasterwork. Bea stormed inside.
Cheeks shot with pink, she marched up to Kate’s desk. “What did you say to him?”
Flummoxed, for a moment Kate could but stare. “To whom?” The tears pooling in her baby sister’s eyes and the accompanying tremble to her bottom lip told her this was no tantrum, but deep distress.
Bea let out a snort. “To Ralph, as if you didn’t know. He’s given his notice and gone.”
Kate started. Ralph was leaving them! Indeed this was news and bad news at that.
“I did not know.”
“Well, he has. He spoke to Rourke just this morning.” Bea nodded, the expression in her eyes bruised. “Apparently, he’s already left for the train station. To go to London,” she added, voice breaking as though London might as well be Mongolia or the moon. “He left me a…note.”
She jammed a fist into her gown’s pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. She made as if to fling it upon the desk, hesitated, and then tucked it tenderly back inside.
Kate was at a loss. She’d thought her and Ralph’s heart-to-heart had gone off enormously well. Perhaps her threat to cut off his balls had been in poor taste, but even so, she couldn’t imagine she’d said anything so waspish, so horrible to cause him to desert not only his best friend and their household, but Bea, the woman he professed to love.
“If I gave offense, it was certainly not intentional. And Rourke has said nothing to me about any quarrel. Perhaps you should examine your own interchanges for the cause.”
Bea glowered at her, no small feat given the wateriness of her eyes. “Meaning?”
Kate was in no mood to fight, but it was obvious Bea was. “I do not write mystery novels and yet remain blind to real life. That Ralph and you were both absent from breakfast this morning did not pass unremarked upon.”
“Oh.” Bea folded her arms over her breasts and looked Kate in the eye. “Very well, I shagged Ralph. I shagged your husband’s best friend and secretary and now he’s run off. Last night he told me he loved me but it seems he does not.”
Kate surmised she was supposed to be shocked. She wasn’t. She might be mistress of a castle; still, little went on in her household that she didn’t know of or at least suspect. Beyond that, Bea was her baby sister. “Does Ralph know your fiancé is here?”
“Mr. Billingsby is my fiancé no longer. I’ve broken off my engagement to him.”
That much was good news. “I suspected so when I saw him earlier. Still, I am relieved to hear it. I’m sure Ralph was, as well.”
Bea pressed her lips firmly together and glanced down at the floor. “I have not told him.”
“Bea, why not?” Kate pushed back her chair and stood.
Bea bit her lip. Twisting her hands before her, she admitted, “I was afraid.”
Incredulous, Kate looked at the lovely, accomplished young woman before her and wondered why Bea still did not seem to know her true worth. “Afraid of what?”
Bea sighed. “Afraid he won’t want me, I suppose.”
Torn between frustration and sympathy, Kate said, “Is it so very hard to believe someone, a man, might actually love you with all his heart?”
Mouth trembling Bea admitted, “Yes, yes, it is.”
Kate hadn’t supposed such an easy surrender. Startled, she asked, “Why, dearest?”
The floodgates burst. Tears streaming, Bea admitted, “Because I’m so bloody boring.”
“THAT’S ABSURD.” Sidestepping Toby, Kate rounded the desk. “You are the furthest thing from boring.” She opened her arms, and grateful for the comfort, Bea let herself be enfolded in that warm, sisterly embrace.
Bending to lay her head on Kate’s shoulder, she sniffed, “Well, maybe not boring precisely, but certainly I am not the sort of woman who can hold the interest of a man such as Ralph, not beyond a week.”
Ralph was the most handsome, clever and altogether entertaining man she’d ever known. He was also a superb lover with sexual appetites that went well beyond the ordinary as she well knew. How could she, a passably pretty girl from a top-drawer family who, until that week, had been cocooned in safety all her life, have possibly thought to hold him?
Kate stared at her. “Why should you think that?”
Bea lifted her head. “You yourself warned me that charming rogues like Ralph eat little girls for breakfast.”
“Oh, dear.” Kate blew out a long, slow breath. “I was wrong.”
It was Bea’s turn to stare. “You admit to being in the wrong?” If so, this would indeed be a first.
“Yes, I do. I believe Ralph loves you. Nine months ago I would not have thought so, but I do now. Ralph loves you, Bea, with all his heart.”
Bea waited for her sister to say more. With Kate, there was always more. When several heartbeats had raced by and Kate still had not, Bea feared she might implode. “But,” she prodded.
“There is no ‘but.’ As to what comes next, that is entirely up to you. I’ve made a pet of you for far too long. But you’ve been my baby sister, my baby, since I was nine years old. Now I must learn to treat you as a woman and that means trusting your judgment.”
Warmed, Bea admitted, “I do love him, Kate. I love him with all my heart. I would give anything to know where in London he has gone.”
Kate was already headed for the door. “We will find Rourke at once. If anyone can puzzle out Ralph’s whereabouts, it is my husband.”
From the doorway, Hattie held out what looked to a wrinkled train schedule. “He’s bound for Paddington.”
Heart beating double time, Bea bounded across the room and took it. “The train timetable with Paddington circled in pen. Oh, thank you, Hattie, thank you!”
Dividing her gaze between the two women, Bea admitted to herself that she didn’t only want Ralph. She needed him. She needed him in her bed to be sure, but beyond that she needed him in her life. The Mr. Billing-bys of this world, no matter how solid and respectable, would never ever do. There was but one action left to take.
“Kate, forgive the imposition, but I must borrow your brougham again. It seems I have a train to make.”
STANDING UPON THE TRAIN platform minutes away from his London-bound train pulling in, Ralph considered that it was a damnable curse, this caring about people. The old Ralph Sylvester never would have allowed himself the luxury of it. That bloke had been young but wise, cheeky but clever. He scarcely knew himself these days. That was the problem with wearing so bloody many masks. After a while, you couldn’t be certain what, if anything, lay beneath.
His train pulled in, screeching to a halt on the tracks before him. Moments later, the doors opened and eager passengers flooded the platform, several greeted with handshakes and hugs by those waiting to receive them. Watching one young couple embrace, Ralph felt a lump lodge in his throat. His newfound wealth meant nothing to him without someone with whom he might share both it and his life. Not any “someone,” but Beatrice.
What the hell was he thinking! Hang pride, he had to go back for her! He had to at least try to win her back from the milksop.
Fortunately, the only luggage he’d brought with him was the light valise sitting at his feet. He was reaching for it when above the station manager’s bullhorn, the porters’ whistles and the general din he swore he heard someone calling his name. Not just any someone, but Beatrice.
He swung about in perfect time to see her go down, swallowed by the crowd. “Beatrice!”
BEA REACHED THE TRAIN PLATFORM as the train bound to Paddington pulled in. Her breath hitching, she slanted a hand over her brow, straining to see through the clouds of steam to the throng of passengers about to board. A woman pushing a pram stepped to the side at the same time that a mountain of carted luggage momentously moved. And that’s when she saw him.
“Ralph!”
Folly though it likely was to think he might see let alone hear her, she stuck a hand up into the air and hailed him nonetheless.
“Ralph!” she called out again, not caring for the scowls and queer looks directed her way.
Even with his back turned to her and wearing an outer coat and hat, she knew him. She would recognize those broad shoulders and that cocky, confident stride anywhere. “Ralph!”
He cocked his head to the side and turned around almost as if he heard her.
Giddy hope flooded her. She waived her aching arm like a flag and pushed her way toward him. Ticket or not, luggage or not, if Ralph boarded that train, then so would she.
A porter hauling a luggage cart stepped into her path. They collided, the impact knocking her to her knees.
Surrounded by trampling feet, panic seized her. But then strong arms lifted her upright. “Good God, are you all right?”
Cheek pressed against Ralph’s tweed-clad chest, her nostrils filling with lemon and warm, well-worn wool, Bea nodded. “I am now.” She pulled back to look up at him. How could she have known that security could look and feel and smell so good?
“I’d think you would be weary of the ground,” he said, his mouth quirking in that wry smile she so loved to see.
Bea smiled, too. “I wasn’t there for long. You caught me.” Indeed, like the fairy-tale prince of her girlhood fantasies, Ralph had come to her rescue in more ways than one. The best part was Ralph was real and, she hoped, still willing to be hers. Steeling herself, she drew back her shoulders and stuck out her chin. “I’ve come to tell you I love you—again. And I either want to go with you or take you back with me. Regardless, I don’t want us to part, not now, not ever again.”
Raised brows greeted that pronouncement. “What of Mr. Billingsby?”
“I broke off our engagement. I sent him a wire from town the other day. I never expected him to seek me out in Scotland.”
He shook his head, but his eyes grew encouragingly warm. “I saw the two of you in the library. Are you quite certain he knows that was an ending, not a beginning?”
So that explained his flight. Kate had been correct. She owed her sister a proper apology once she—they—got back. “Indeed, he does. It would seem I’ve become rather good at speaking my mind as well as asking for what I truly want.”
Ralph swallowed. “If recent memory serves me, you’re rather good at a lot of things.”
She didn’t deny it. Because of him, she’d learned to respect her body and trust her heart. Only she didn’t want him as her tutor anymore. She wanted him as her husband.
And so she steeled herself to be braver than she’d ever before been. “Marry me, Ralph.”
His jaw dropped. “You’re proposing?” He backed up a step, hardly the most encouraging response.
But Bea had come too far to back down now. Advancing, she said, “I am. Does that shock you?”
He hesitated. “A little,” he admitted.
“Good.” Lowering her voice, she added, “I’d only ever thought to have a companionable marriage with satisfying sex. Never ever did I think I’d love anyone so very dearly or so very much.” She paused for breath. “I know my proposing is unconventional…very well, scandalous. Then again, considering all the scandalous acts in which we’ve so far engaged, a marriage proposal seems tame indeed.” Not only tame, but right, so very right—provided he said “yes.”
Ralph smiled at last. “Do you mean to go down on one knee?”
Smiling, she shook her head. “I believe I’ve spent more than sufficient time on my knees this past week, wouldn’t you agree?” Without waiting for his answer, she added, “I’d rather say it’s your turn.”
He hesitated. “Very well.” Stepping back to clear space, he went down on bended knee. Lifting his gaze to hers, he took both of her gloved hands between his. “Beatrice Lindsey, I accept your proposal of marriage and ask most humbly that you do me the honor of accepting mine in return. Will you, darling? Will you spend your life with this erstwhile thief? Before you answer, you should know I am not penniless. Thanks to an investment I had Rourke place, I have come into a small fortune.”
Eyes welling, she clasped his hand. “That there is money for our keeping is welcome news, but I would have married you were you a pauper. I would gladly wed you this very day only my wedding gown is in London with Aunt Lavinia.”
“The very one with despised Brussels lace?”
“If you must know, I fibbed. It’s French satin with very little trim,” she admitted with a grin.
He tossed back his head and laughed. “You’d be beautiful walking down the aisle in a granary sack or better yet, nothing at all. Still, I’ve a fancy to see London again. I’ve been away too long. A fish out of water is just that.” He hesitated. “Once there, shall we call upon your father so I can ask for your hand? He’ll refuse me, of course, but I’d like to make the effort and pay him proper respect if only for your sake.”
She shook her head, her horror in no way feigned. “Papa may be the Earl of Romney, but steeped in debts as he is, he’ll be only too glad to pawn off my keeping to someone else.”
“Then I’ll ask Rourke. Assuming he lets me live, I mean to have him stand for me as best man.”
“Why should he mind our marrying?”
He sent her a quizzical look. “My corrupting your innocence could be seen as a breach of trust.”
“Oh, that.” Men could be such ninnies. “We need have no worries on that score. Kate is on our side and if anything, you shall seem a hero for taking a soiled sister-in-law off his hands.”
“You’re not soiled,” he said with feeling, looking so deeply and searchingly into her eyes that she felt naked albeit in the very best of ways. “You’re perfect, completely and utterly divine.”
She smiled, happy tears trickling down her cheeks. “I know you’ve become accustomed to acting the tutor and me the pupil, but really, Ralph, don’t you think you might get up and kiss me?”
“Indeed, my bride-to-be, that’s a capital plan.”
He reached out, lifted her chin on the edge of his hand, and drew her face to his. “I love you,” he whispered, so close that she tasted his breath upon her lips. He kissed her top and bottom lip in turns and the corners of her mouth before matching his lips to hers.
Brushing her mouth over his, she smiled back. “I love you, too.”
He slid his tongue along the seam of her lips and though they were in a public place, a most public place, still Bea had no thought of denying either of them.
“I’m glad, for I’ve waited all these years for someone to love me, I shouldn’t care to be loved but a little.”
She started to answer, but his tongue stroking inside her mouth stalled her from speaking. He kissed her both deeply and gently. It was their first kiss revisited, only this time the tenderness wasn’t by way of being a lesson, but an honest expression of not only great passion but also great love mutually shared.
Cries of, “Jaysus, let a room,” and “Bloody hell, put a ring on the lass first,” had them pulling apart. Breathless and giddy, Bea took a shaky step back. “You’re no Mr. Billingsby, but I expect you’ll do.”
She looked up into Ralph’s smiling eyes, and for the first time it struck her that this beautiful, wonderful, miraculous man was hers, all hers. Not for seven days but for the sum of the rest of their happily ever after lives.
Sobering, he said, “Be that as it may, my darling, do you think we might manage to pass the next, oh…fifty-odd years without evermore uttering that most unfortunate gentleman’s name?”
“That might be managed.” Rather than risk spoiling the moment, she refrained from pointing out that from here on they’d be addressing her former fiancé and hopefully now friend as Hamilton.
Ralph hesitated. “Before we put your former fiancé to bed, so to speak, I’ve one final question.”
“And what is that, my love?”
“Was he really that wretched in the sack?”
Bea hesitated. Having made their peace, Hamilton was her friend now. She had no wish to speak badly of him. She already felt sufficiently guilty on that score. And yet Ralph was not only her lover, but also the love of her life and her soon-to-be husband. She owed him nothing less than utter honesty, undivided loyalty and the whole of her overflowing heart.
She nodded, fighting a giggle. “Yes, I’m afraid so.”
Predictably he grinned. “That’s very sad…for him.”
She swatted his arm. “It’s most unfair and ungrateful of us to poke fun. Poor Mr. Billingsby…I mean, Hamilton is our benefactor, after all.”
“Our benefactor?” One dark brow lifted. “How so?”
“It was his very…shortcomings that sent me back to you, the perfect place from which I should never have strayed and nevermore shall leave.”
The melting look he sent her seemed to send the temperature in the chilly train shed rising by several notches. “In that event, I feel myself quite warming to the unfortunate fellow. Perhaps he only wants for some…tutelage.” He grinned.
Smiling, Bea shook her head. “If so then he must look elsewhere, for my mind, body and heart belong wholly to another. They belong to you for now and the rest of my days.”
“Beatrice?” The telltale sheen to his eyes and the gravity of his tone had her heart skipping beats.
She raised their clasped hands and brushed her lips along his knuckles. Lifting her gaze to his, she smiled. “From here on my place is by your side. There, my dearest, darling tutor is the only place I shall ever again wish to be.”