she asked.
Rockbourne stared at his wife a moment, then briefly clasped his hand over his mouth and chin. Lowering it, he said, “I’ll summon the household. Except for my daughter.” His face turned ashen. “What am I going to tell her? She’s only three. Almost four.”
“Tell her you love her and that you’ll always be there for her.” Beatrix was surprised to feel a tightness in her throat.
His gaze connected with hers, their gray depths simmering with anguish. “You never answered my question. What are you doing here, with me?”
“Helping, I hope.” She gave him a tentative smile.
“You were spying on Ramsgate, and your brother-in-law is a Bow Street Runner. Why are you doing the former, and who is your sister?”
“My sister is Lady Gresham, and I’m not spying on Ramsgate. I’m just…watching him.”
“I don’t know that he’s in the market for a new duchess. His son, however, is in search of a wife. You’d do better to set your sights on him. He’s at least near your age. Ramsgate could be your father.”
Beatrix couldn’t hold in the sharp laugh that leapt from her mouth.
A sound from the house drew them both to turn.
Rockbourne looked to Beatrix. “That could be my butler or someone else. You have to go.”
“Yes.” Beatrix started to turn toward the back corner of the garden where she’d stolen in through the gate. Impulsively, she spun about. Standing on her toes, she brushed a kiss against his jaw—it was as high as she could reach. “Good luck.”
She rushed through the garden and out the gate. Bringing the hat down lower on her head, she hurried toward home.
Thomas Devereaux, Viscount Rockbourne, had endured many sleepless nights in his five-year marriage, largely due to his wife’s anger, but last night had been the worst. Followed by the hardest morning of his life as he’d explained to his daughter that her mother was gone. At her young age, she didn’t really understand, as evidenced when she’d asked where Mama was just a few hours later.
The servants had been shocked to see their mistress sprawled on the cobblestones in the back garden, particularly her maid. Spicer had fallen into a fit of sobbing, and had required brandy to calm herself. She was currently sleeping, which was for the best.
Thomas was sure the woman must be concerned for her future employment since she was no longer needed as a lady’s maid. He’d do what he could to see that she found a new situation.
The funeral furnisher had just left, and Thomas was in grave need of his own brandy. He went to his library study and had just poured the drink when his butler, Baines, appeared in the doorway.
“Mrs. Chamberlain is here, my lord. She is in the sitting room.”
Thomas’s mother-in-law. The brandy was needed more than ever. He drank it down in one swallow. “How is she?” He set the empty glass on the sideboard.
“As you might expect,” Baines said delicately. Of average height and with a slight frame, the butler possessed kind, dark eyes, a sharp, long nose, and a balding pate. He was a force of calm and organization in the household, an excellent foil for Thea’s penchant for agitation.
Mrs. Chamberlain was a slightly less frenzied version of her daughter. Still, she was bound to be bordering on hysterical, and Thomas couldn’t blame her.
With a deep, fortifying breath, he went to the front sitting room and strode inside. Mrs. Chamberlain was perched on the settee, her face pinched and her eyes red.
“Where is she?” Mrs. Chamberlain asked before Thomas could greet her.
“In the morning room.” Or was it now the mourning room, Thomas wondered absurdly. Two footmen had carried her inside last night. She currently lay atop a rectangular table.
Mrs. Chamberlain rose. “Take me to her.”
Thomas hesitated. “Are you certain you wish—”
“She’s my daughter.” The woman’s voice rose, taking on a shrill quality that was so like Thea’s that Thomas flinched.
Wordlessly, he turned and led her to the morning room at the back of the house. Mrs. Chamberlain let out a sob as she entered behind him. Rushing to the table, she threw her arms over Thea’s abdomen and wailed.
Thomas gritted his teeth. He wanted to ask her to be a little quieter so as not to upset Regan, but he also didn’t want to interrupt the woman’s grief. Hopefully, Regan couldn’t hear her since she was two stories up with her nurse. He moved to the other side of the table and leaned against the doorway that