A Scandalous Bargain (The Pretenders #2) - Darcy Burke Page 0,81
buried and abdicated, never believing he would have cause to experience them again.
She cupped his face and pulled back slightly, her lips curving into an alluring smile. “I’ve missed you. Seems you’ve missed me too.”
“It feels like it’s been a month instead of a day.”
“And a half. A day and a half.”
Thomas kissed her cheek and jaw, nibbling along her flesh. She shivered against him as her hands slipped to his shoulders.
“I wanted to throw Daventry off your blanket.”
“He’s not a bad sort.”
Thomas pulled back and looked down at her. “Is he courting you?”
“Not yet, but he intimated that he’s interested in doing so.” She exhaled. “And I’m supposed to promenade with some fellow called Sandon.”
Jealousy speared through him again, along with envy and distress. He couldn’t lose her.
Before he could speak, she said, “I would have preferred it was you on our blanket. I was afraid you’d left.”
He relaxed, hugging her to him. “I was trying to keep my distance.”
“Why?”
An answer didn’t immediately come to him. He held her waist but pulled slightly back. “I don’t know. I suppose I didn’t want people to gossip.”
“They will always gossip.” She brought her hands down to his chest. “I don’t know how much time I’ll spend in Society in the future. There’s no reason for me to do so—I’m not trying to make an advantageous marriage, and I’m certainly not trying to impress my father any longer. I’ll be focusing my energies on the Spitfire Society.”
“My cousin Aquilla was just telling me about your endeavors. I am donating money to your excellent cause. I imagine the orphanage is of particular concern to you and Mrs. Sheffield.”
“It is. She is an orphan, and while I’d never thought of myself as one because I believed I had a father, I now realize that was foolish.” She smoothed the lapels of his coat. “Thank you for supporting our cause.”
They couldn’t stay here much longer without their absences being noted by at least a few people. “Beatrix, I want you to know that I can’t stop thinking about the other night, about you—”
A sound to Thomas’s right made him freeze. She heard it too, for her head turned in that direction, her lips parted.
“Go,” he whispered urgently, taking his hands from her waist.
She turned and fled. He went to one of the trees and peered around it to watch her return to the picnic. He looked about for whoever—or whatever—had made the sound, but saw nothing.
Dammit. He hadn’t said what he’d wanted to. And what was that?
That he loved her. That he hoped they could have a future together. Could she promise she was the woman he thought her to be?
Thomas turned and leaned back against the tree, knocking his head against the bark in frustration. Damn Thea for filling him with doubt and fear. He had no reason to think Beatrix was anyone other than the caring, witty, charming, and utterly wonderful woman he’d come to know. That he couldn’t trust that—trust her—made him furious.
It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her. He didn’t trust himself. He’d chosen so poorly the first time. What if he did so again?
He pushed away from the tree and left the copse. As he approached the picnic, Aunt Charity intercepted him. Her face was lined with concern, her eyes shaded with agitation. She wrapped her hand around his forearm. “I’m afraid there is a terrible rumor racing through the picnic since the meal concluded.”
Thomas braced himself. “I assume this is about me?”
“It’s an…exaggeration of the one I mentioned to you before. Now, people are saying you pushed Thea to her death and that Bow Street is investigating you for murder.”
Bloody fucking hell. “There is only one person who would make that publicly known.”
“Thea’s mother.” Aunt Charity pressed her lips together and made a low, dangerous sound in her throat. “It’s too bad that woman isn’t here. I might call her out.”
Thomas laughed. “That is too bad.”
She looked up at him in distress. “This isn’t amusing!”
“What else can I do but laugh? I can’t control a single bit of this. Thea is holding all the power, even from her damned grave.”
“She can’t possibly. You didn’t do what that horrid woman is saying. The truth will come out.”
Thomas wished he possessed his aunt’s conviction. As Dearborn had plainly stated, without an eyewitness, his version of the event could not be corroborated. Furthermore, Thomas had demonstrated to Bow Street his ability to lie.
“I’m going home.” Thomas wanted to hug his daughter and