Beauty Tempts the Beast (Sins for All Seasons #6) - Lorraine Heath Page 0,124

in what your life was. That brings me comfort. The night we had dinner with your family, I so enjoyed watching the easy way you are with each other. I can’t imagine you without them.”

Neither could he. What a strange journey he’d taken through life.

“You don’t have to live here, you know. Even when you’re duke. You simply have to ensure the estate is properly maintained and see to your duties. You’re a lord. You can live wherever you like. But then I suppose you could do that anyway with the success you’ve had.” She studied him as thunder rumbled in the distance. “Do you wish we hadn’t found you?”

With no hesitation, he shoved himself forward, knelt beside her, and took her hand. “No, of course not. It’s just taking me a bit of time to become accustomed to this change in my life.”

With the hand he wasn’t holding, she brushed her fingers through his hair. “I hope you realize how very much we love you.”

Bringing her hand to his lips, he pressed a kiss against her knuckles. “I love you.”

“When we return to London, we’re going to host a ball, ensure your place among the ton is understood and accepted. You should invite your lass.”

London

March 1874

February was the shortest month of the year, yet had been the very longest of Althea’s life.

She was glad March had finally arrived. Not that it would make any difference. It wouldn’t return Benedict to her.

She missed him with a physical ache so painful that sometimes she wondered if her heart had stopped, only for a second or two, because stopping briefly was better than shattering altogether. She’d hurt him with her refusal to marry him. She understood that, but also knew he didn’t have a clear understanding of how things worked among the aristocracy. Reputation did not begin and end with a person. It came with tentacles that wrapped around those closest to you, linking you to their disgraces, linking them to yours.

As she sat at what had once been his desk in what had once been his study, organizing the lessons she would begin teaching the first set of women who had arrived, she wondered if a time would come when so much stopped reminding her of him. When she lay in bed at night wearing his shirt, the one he’d tossed to her, that carried his sandalwood and cinnamon scent, she thought of him. When she was out shopping and saw a gentleman glance at his pocket watch, she thought of Benedict. When the winds blew cold, she thought of him. When it rained, when it didn’t, she thought of him.

When she sat in the library in the evening, memories of the hours she’d spent with him tormented her. No sherry glass now waited for her. When he’d asked her to marry him, she’d envisioned a lifetime of sitting in a library, sharing moments with him.

When she’d had Benedict in her arms, she’d not needed a protector or Society. She’d felt fully capable of taking care of herself. All she’d needed was him. She’d given up what she needed in order for him to have an easier time adjusting to life among the aristocracy. He didn’t understand now, but in time he would. He would have hurts. It was the way of those she’d once walked among to be unkind, not as accepting as they might be. Perhaps he’d receive a cut direct, or a lady would refuse to dance with him, or a gentleman would not invite him to sit with him at the club. But the hurts would be pinpricks instead of the knife wounds being with her would have caused him. Pins didn’t leave scars. Knives did.

Pulling on the chain around her neck, she pulled out the locket tucked behind her bodice, opened it, and looked at the portrait of Benedict. She did this at least half a dozen time every hour. Oh, she missed him so much. There were times when she could barely move for how much she missed him.

When Jewel walked in, Althea barely stirred. She never closed the door. Jewel wouldn’t have knocked anyway. Jewel handled the books, Althea the education of those who came here, preparing them for a different life.

“You have a visitor,” Jewel said, “in the parlor.”

A parlor that now displayed not a single breast, buttock, or cock.

Other than her brothers, no one from Althea’s past knew she was here, would visit her. Only one person would, and her stomach felt