A Scandalous Bargain (The Pretenders #2) - Darcy Burke Page 0,61

don’t have a roof, but it’s a replica of something else, like a temple. Some people build them on the grounds of their estate. They might even pay a hermit to live in it.” Beatrix remembered one of the girls at Mrs. Goodwin’s talking about her uncle’s folly with a hermit.

Though they nodded in understanding, Selina and Rafe also exchanged looks of disbelief.

“The bloody rich,” Rafe muttered.

“Which is now you,” Beatrix said with a laugh.

“You won’t see me building a ridiculous folly—it’s the perfect name for such a useless thing. And you definitely won’t find me paying someone to live in it. Jesus.”

“But you remember a folly,” Selina said insistently, her gaze fixed on Rafe.

“And a lake,” Beatrix added.

“Was that where we lived?” Selina sounded incredulous.

“I don’t know.” Rafe paced to the window. He’d been five when their parents had died and they’d been taken in by a “relative.” A decidedly not rich relative who would not have been anywhere near a lake with a folly. The man who hadn’t really been their uncle had taken them to East London and used them to swindle people.

“But I can distinctly see the folly and the lake.” He inclined his head toward Selina. “And that pendant.”

“This exact pendant?” Selina asked, and Beatrix could hear the wonder in her voice.

He turned to Beatrix. “Where did you get that?”

Oh hell. She’d hoped to avoid mentioning the receiver shop. But she could believably explain why she’d bought a gift there. “The Golden Lion.”

They both directed surprised looks at her. “Why did you go there of all places?” Rafe asked.

Beatrix shrugged. “I wanted to find something nice, and those are the best places to do so without paying a fortune. And since you recently owned the shop, I thought it the smartest choice.”

“Did Tillman help you?”

“If he’s the wiry gentleman with an excessively lined face, then yes.”

“That’s him.” Rafe shook his head. “I’ll go and speak to him, see where this came from.”

“Do you really think this belonged to our mother?” Selina sounded as if she couldn’t believe it. Beatrix didn’t blame her. It would be beyond astonishing.

“I don’t know.” Rafe blew out a breath. “It’s been an awfully long time. But if it isn’t that pendant, it’s bloody close. I still want to talk to Tillman about it.”

Selina brushed her hand over the coral. “Yes, please. I may hold my breath until you do.”

“Don’t do that,” Rafe said with a smile. “You need to breathe on your wedding day at least.”

“Of course.” Selina rolled her eyes. “Speaking of that, we should be on our way to church.”

“Ready?” Rafe offered her his arm.

“As I’ll ever be.” She put her hand on her brother’s sleeve. “I never envisioned this day. Not once. I still worry something may happen to spoil it.”

Rafe put his hand over hers and squeezed. “It won’t. I wouldn’t let it, but it won’t.”

Selina nodded. He kissed her forehead before guiding her from the room.

Beatrix lingered a moment, watching them precede her. Unlike Selina, Beatrix had envisioned a wedding day for herself. One where her father would give her away to her groom.

That dream had died when her father had rejected her. Now it was up to her to find a new one.

Chapter 12

The wedding ceremony at St. George’s had been lovely, with Harry’s entire, rather large, family in attendance. He had two parents, a twin brother, three married sisters, and a variety of nieces and nephews. They were the opposite of what Beatrix and Selina—and Rafe—were used to.

Beatrix watched in delight as they all embraced Selina, hovering around her and just generally welcoming her into their fold. She knew the attention was a trifle overwhelming for Selina, just as she knew that Selina had begun to enjoy it.

The breakfast was being held at Lord and Lady Aylesbury’s grand house on Mount Street, and the drawing room and adjoining chamber were full of well-wishers. Beatrix was glad to see some familiar faces in the women of the Spitfire Society, which now met at a variety of homes, including those of the Marchioness of Ripley, the Duchess of Clare, and the Duchess of Kendal. Beatrix suddenly realized she’d achieved a rather lofty position in Society—at least amongst her friends—without the aid of her horrible father.

“Ah, Miss Whitford, allow me to introduce someone to you.”

Beatrix had been so busy surveying the room, she’d missed the approach of Harry’s brother, the Viscount Northwood. Identical to Harry except that his shoulders were not quite as broad, North, as