George frowned, his expression anxious as he studied his cousin’s face. ‘You are happy, aren’t you, Beatrice? You’ve no regrets about what you did?’
‘No, none, George, truly. How can I not be happy when I have all this?’ She opened her arms wide to embrace her beloved Larkhill, laughing joyously. ‘I may not live here since Julius’s home is in Kent, but I can still visit.’
‘You do look radiant, Beatrice,’ George said on a serious note. ‘Chadwick must be doing something right.’
She flushed prettily, remembering her wedding night and all that had transpired. She was impatient for Julius to return so they could live like a properly married couple. ‘Julius is a most attentive husband,’ she said softly. ‘He is away just now—searching for one of his ships that disappeared during a storm in the Bay of Biscay, which is the reason why I’m here now. How is Astrid? Well, I hope?’
‘You will be surprised to learn that my dear sister is soon to follow you up the aisle.’
Beatrice stared at him. ‘You mean Aunt Moira is to allow her to marry Henry Talbot after all?’
George wasn’t smiling anymore. His concern for his sister was plain. ‘Don’t you believe it—no one so lowly. She’s to wed Lord Alden of Alden Hall in Essex—before Christmas, if Mama has anything to do with it. She’s determined not to let him slip through the net. You must have heard of him since he was a friend of Father’s.’
‘Lord Alden? But—he’s an old man—an extremely stout, lecherous old man as I recall.’ Beatrice remembered how Lord Alden had a tendency to grope the female servants if they ventured too close. ‘He’s old enough to be Astrid’s father.’
‘Exactly. Fifty-five, to be precise—and far too old for Astrid. Naturally she is averse to the marriage and spends most of her time weeping in her room.’
‘Poor Astrid. Then she mustn’t marry him. She’s in love with Henry—and he with her. As head of the family, it is within your power to stop her marrying Lord Alden.’
George shook his head. ‘I’ve tried, but you know Mama. Since you left her temper has become much worse. She will not be crossed or argued with and refuses to listen to reason. She’s determined to do this, Beatrice.’
‘But she cannot force Astrid to marry him.’
‘You’re wrong there. When Mama has a bee in her bonnet about something, she’s as immovable as the Rock of Gibraltar. She won’t pass up the chance of Astrid being a countess. Losing her game with you has increased her determination.’
And her spite, Beatrice thought crossly. She sighed deeply and linked her arm through George’s, in perfect, amiable harmony with each other as usual. ‘Yes, I imagine she has. Come inside and have some breakfast with me—bacon and eggs are on the menu, and kippers, too—and if we put our heads together we’ll try to work out what is to be done. Astrid cannot marry that man.’
Julius looked out of the carriage window, wishing the driver would go faster. He’d left Portsmouth at first light and now the sights and sounds of London were all around him. It had taken him two months to track down his stricken ship, which had managed to limp into a small port in Portugal, and a further two to have the cargo transferred to another vessel and to oversee the repairs before it was deemed seaworthy enough to embark for England.
Now he was impatient to be home and considered the shock his sudden arrival would cause to Beatrice. Had she changed in his absence? he wondered. Had she been lonely? Had she missed him? More than once it had occurred to him that she might resent having him return, that she might be enjoying the single life to the hilt, but that idea was nearly as repugnant as the idea that she might have found another on whom to bestow her affections.
What surprised him most was how much he had missed her. In his mind’s eye she glowed like a light. Every day and night he thought of her, conjured up her image in his mind, trying to imagine what she was doing, how she looked, tracing every curve of her face in his mind, remembering her magnificent green eyes and the soft sweetness of her lips. He relived every minute he had spent with her, recalling every word, every inflection, how it had felt to hold her, to make love to her.