“Beatrice,” he called, unable to help himself.
Beatrice stopped as she neared the top of the stairs and turned to him. He quivered again as he took in her red-rimmed eyes, her tear-stained cheeks, and red-tipped nose.
“It is you that is lovely,” he said softly, sweeping his gaze down her new dress and the pretty matching ribbons she wore. “Youlook like the lady you are. Do not let their visit allow you to forget how far you have come.”
Beatrice’s smile was small, perhaps even a little sad, but gratitude for his compliment made her cobalt blue eyes positively glow.
“Thank you, Algernon,” she whispered, bowing her head toward him.
He bowed his in return and watched as she disappeared up the steps, his heart and head a mess.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“No!” Beatrice gasped, jolting into a sitting position.
Beatrice drew in a shaky breath as her heart pounded wildly in her chest. She felt hot, too hot, and the evidence was slick over her entire body. Not only that, but her arms from where Simeon had grabbed ached as did her stomach. Her throat felt dry and tight too, as if someone had just been trying to squeeze it.
Shakily, she reached for the teacup by her bed, and as she brought it to her lips, she found it empty. With a defeated sigh, she sat the cup back down and looked around her.
The room was dark, empty. For a moment she forgot where she was, half in the present, half still in her nightmare. As the horror in her mind faded, though, and her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, she realized she was in her bedroom. Not at Simeon’s. At Algernon’s. She clutched at the silk duvet, finding comfort in the confirmed finery she now lived in, and she drew in a deep breath.
She had taken a bath as Algernon suggested. Mira had added lavender and chamomile oil; and the warmth combined with the scent had intensified her drowsiness. She had cried hard after it all, and she always felt strangely tired after a cry. Especially this particular one.
It was in the bath that she realized that she had not cried since right before the auction had started that fateful night. All of the fear she had felt since then, even as it was diminishing by the day, had reared up and taken over. She’d not only cried for Simeon’s most recent threat but for all he had put her through.
Once she finished her soak and allowed Mira to help her into a white silk summer nightgown, she walked back into her room and found Mrs. Sheer’s tea waiting for her. From the moment the brew hit her tongue, she knew there were sedative herbs in it, but she did not mind. Shewantedthe sleep. Wanted to drift away from what had just happened and forget about the bruises on her upper arms and the look of pure rage in Simeon’s face as he shook her violently.
Beatrice pushed her covers back and slid out of bed. She went to the window—the very one Algernon had perched her on only a few days ago—and pulled back the drapes. The half full moon shone brightly, sending its light through the fecund green leaves that surrounded Algernon’s mansion. Based on how high it was, she wagered it was nearly midnight which meant she had been asleep for nearly eighthours before her nightmare startled her awake.
Though she was still sweating, she shivered as remnants of her dream still stuck with her. The feeling of Simoen’s painful grip. The fear in her heart. The terror that her new life was going to be so much shorter than she wanted. She’d been dragged back home—literally dragged—and forced into that hideous uniform and subjected to the cruelty she knew all too well.
Only it had been worse this time. Worse because she knew what freedom was like, and in her dream, her entire body ached for what it once had.
“Just a nightmare,” she said aloud, trying to make herself believe those words. “It was just a nightmare. They are gone. You are safe.”
Beatrice repeated the three sentences over and over, again and again, trying to convince herself it was true. After several moments, she felt her attempt to snag reality wanting, and she decided some fresh air and a walk might help. She drew away from the window and reached for her robe at the end of her bed. Just as she wrapped her hand around the soft fabric, though, she decided against it. She still felt far too warm, and surely, with it being so late, she would not have to fear for her modesty. She left the robe in her room and went to the kitchens in just her nightgown.
There was a lovely, private little ivy-covered patio just outside the kitchen doors where the servants would often sit, chat, and take their breaks. Beatrice had joined them there often, and though Fitzroy Hall had beautiful gardens, that little space was by far her favorite. She imagined how the warm breeze wouldfeel against her naked arms once she was out there, and for the first time that evening, she felt a bit of excitement.
In the quiet, moonlit kitchen, she spotted the kettle as well as the jar of herbs that Mrs. Sheer had most likely used to brew her tea earlier. Deciding that another cup would be a good idea, she set about lighting a fire below the hanging kettle that she knew Alice always filled the night before so breakfast could be started straight away.
“Beatrice?” a deep, husky voice rumbled through the silence.
Static, not fear, made the hair stand up on Beatrice’s arms as she heard Algernon’s voice, and she quickly turned to the sound just as the spark took hold of the tinder pile. The dry bits of wood popped and sparked as they grew into a flame, and Beatrice could not help but notice that her heart did something very similar as she took in Algernon.
Unlike his usually refined state, tonight he looked delightfully rumpled. His dark hair was ruffled, and the white shirt and waistcoat he wore were both unbuttoned and opened, revealing those smooth, hard planes of muscles that she’d seen the other night.
“You… you are still awake,” she said then blushed.How very obvious. What is next? I see you breathe, Sir. As is it so happens, so do I.
Algernon did not laugh at her obvious observation, however. Instead, he simply nodded and walked from the doorway tothe island counter where a large wood bowl of pears sat in the center.
“I usually do not find slumber until one or two in the morning,” he confessed, taking a pear into his hands. “However, I came down here because as I was thinking of you. I realized that you must have not eaten since lunch. I was hoping to find Alice awake so that she may make you something.”
A smile twitched on Beatrice’s lips as the kettle began to ting and roil above the growing flames.
“You were thinking about me?” she asked, finding the possibility rather satisfying.
Even in the dim light, she could see a redness fuse up into Algernon’s corded neck and into the tips of his ears.