Tempting the Bride - By Sherry Thomas Page 0,71

a knife to his pride. Narcissus and Fidelia were married the next spring. They lived and ruled happily together for many years.”

It was not just a love letter, but a prayer, a devout hope for better things to come. And as Helena closed the manuscript, she found herself hoping for the very same.

CHAPTER 15

Life at Easton Grange revolved around Bea, who hadn’t the least idea that such was the arrangement. She was oblivious to many things, but one could count on her to be passionately devoted to her daily routine, going about it with the fastidiousness of a maestro conducting a Beethoven symphony.

She ate breakfast at eight and went for a walk with her father at nine—sticking strictly to three paths, each for two days of the week, plus a special Sunday path. After arriving back at the nursery at ten, she had lessons until luncheon. Another hour of lessons followed in the afternoon, and then came activities particular to each day. Monday she watered the gardens, Tuesday she brushed her dolls’ hair and changed their clothes, and so on and so forth. She rode at four, had tea at five, which also served as her supper, took her bath, listened to a story, and went to bed.

If her walk took less time than usual, she would wait outside the nursery until the clock struck the hour. Should a Monday be rainy, she’d still be out in the garden, a watering can in hand, a mackintosh over the rest of her.

These, however, were but quirks. Whenever the integrity of her schedule became threatened, Bea’s eyes would grow larger, her face paler. She worried the inside of her cheek, her hands clasping ever more tightly onto each other.

Once at tea, they discovered that the sandwich that had been prepared for her was the wrong kind for Wednesday. Normally a quick word with the kitchen would have fixed the problem. But Wednesday happened to be half day, and the staff enjoyed the afternoon off. By the time Hastings found all the ingredients to assemble the Wednesday sandwich, Bea was in a state of trembling agitation, for fear that she would be late to her bath.

“What would have happened had she been late to her bath?” Helena had asked, as they waited outside the bath while Bea hummed and played with the water in her tub, calm again after the crisis had been averted.

Hastings had tilted his head against the wall. “Disaster. She would have climbed into her trunk and not come out for hours. At least by teatime the day is almost over. God help us if something goes awry in the morning.”

“Has she always been like this?”

Hastings sighed. “I can’t tell you for certain. When I agreed to take her in, I hired a nanny who came with excellent character letters, set the pair of them in a cottage on the edge of the estate, and thought my duty done. According to the maids who cleaned the cottage—it was they who first alerted me that something was amiss—she’d been a docile enough baby. But about the time she turned two, she became impossibly stubborn. The nanny did not believe children should have any say in their upbringing—and what followed was not pretty.”

He stared at the wallpaper on the opposite side of the passage. “I was furious with myself. My earlier excuse for not paying close attention was that I’d spared her a life in the poorhouse. It was not acceptable to be simply better than the worst. I was responsible for this child and I’d allowed her to be mistreated under my very nose, to become this quivering, screaming creature.”

Sunlight still poured in from the window at the end of the passage, a bright stream that angled upward and lit him like a halo.

“You’ve done quite well by her since,” said Helena.

He sighed again and raked his fingers through his hair. She envied that hand. She hadn’t touched his hair since they came to Easton Grange.

He rested his hand flat on top of his head. “I’m not sure whether we’ll ever be able to reverse the damage. You saw how she can be, and that was only at the thought of her schedule being disrupted. I’m not sure what she’d do if her life ever became disrupted—between you and me, I live in dread of the day something happens to Sir Hardshell.”

Whatever misgivings Helena might hold concerning his suitability as a spouse, she did not doubt his devotion and dependability as