take you home.”
The exhalation that passed her lips was tinged with regret. “Yes. But first, the story.” She grinned at him before turning and going into his room.
Thomas hesitated before following her. He couldn’t quite believe how much his life had changed in such a short time—and for the better. Entering the chamber, he stopped short, his breath hitching completely.
Beatrix lay on top of the coverlet next to Regan, who was burrowed beneath it. Both were propped against pillows. As he watched them, emotion curling in his chest, Regan snuggled into Beatrix’s side. Beatrix’s mouth pulled up, and she put her arm around his daughter.
“Once upon a time, there were two sisters, both with fair hair, one tall and one short.” Autobiographical, then.
Regan patted the space on her other side. “Aren’t you coming, Papa? You’ll miss the story.”
He had to clear his throat. “Yes, of course.” He hastened to the bed and slid over the coverlet until he was next to Regan. “Better?”
She looked up at Beatrix. “Continue, please.”
“Now, where was I? Yes, one tall and one short. They were sent away to boarding school by their evil stepfather.”
“What’s board school?”
“A horrible place,” Beatrix said drily.
Thomas made a mental note to ask Beatrix why she’d said that. “It’s a school where students go and live.”
“Will I go there, Papa?”
He leaned down and kissed her head. “No.”
“Because you aren’t evil.” Regan yawned.
“I hope not.”
Beatrix’s eyes met his as she whispered, “Not even close.”
“What happened at the board school?” Regan asked, yawning again.
“The sisters were taunted by the other girls.” Was that true? Thomas wanted to know everything.
Regan looked up at Beatrix. “Why?”
“Because the sisters were smart and pretty, and the other girls were jealous. They did their best to get the sisters in trouble.”
“I hope this has a happy ending,” Regan said. “Papa’s have happy endings.”
“How would you know?” he asked with mock incredulousness. “You never stay awake.”
Regan giggled. “Because you tell me in the morning. Papa, if I fall asleep, will you tell me the end in the morning?”
“Of course, darling.”
“Or she can, if she’s still here,” Regan said, glancing toward Beatrix.
Thomas looked at Beatrix and glimpsed a future he’d long ago deemed impossible. “You need to let her tell the story,” he said softly. He nodded toward Beatrix.
“I promise this story has a very happy ending, and if you fall asleep, I’ll make sure your father knows how it ends so he can tell you.”
“Thank you.”
Settling in, Thomas couldn’t wait to hear how it concluded. And for the first time in ages, he wondered if he might find a happy ending of his own.
Beatrix should have been tired after being out late the night before at Thomas’s house, but she was too excited for Selina’s wedding. She picked up the small box from her dressing table before leaving her chamber and going downstairs to Selina’s room.
After Regan had fallen asleep in Thomas’s bed last night, Beatrix had tried to persuade him to let her go home on her own—it was clear he should stay with his daughter. However, he’d insisted on hailing a hackney and accompanying her to Cavendish Square. It was, at least, faster than walking, which meant he was able to return to Regan as quickly as possible.
He’d asked about her time at Mrs. Goodwin’s. She hadn’t told him quite everything—not the bits about stealing—but sharing the torment of the other girls, her close friendship with Selina, and how she’d left with Selina before her education had been completed had made her feel surprisingly good. Perhaps because he was an exceptional, and sympathetic, listener.
He’d then regaled her with a few stories of Oxford, which involved a great deal of drunkenness and buffoonery. She had a bit of difficulty reconciling the troubled widowed father with the jovial young man and wished she could have known him then.
Although she was quite happy with knowing him now. As well as his daughter. She was charming, and Beatrix was so glad to know she had a loving father.
Situated at the rear of the first floor, Selina’s room was the largest bedchamber in the house. When Beatrix stepped inside, she stopped short at seeing Selina in her wedding gown. Made of ivory silk and trimmed in pale pink, the dress looked like a delicious confection.
Her new lady’s maid, whom Selina’s almost-mother-in-law had insisted she needed, was busy fastening the buttons along Selina’s back.
“You look so beautiful,” Beatrix said, sighing.
Selina turned her head and smiled. “So do you.”
Beatrix glanced down at her new