“Beatrice,” he sighed, opening the door with his free hand. He nodded toward the patio with an expectant look. “I am precisely where I need to be. Now you wanted some air, did you not? Out you go.”
Again, Beatrice had to draw her bottom lip between her teeth to fight the giddy smile that was trying to take over her face. She decided that she liked this version of Algernon, even if he still had a bit of a commanding air to him. So, she walked to the open door as he held it for her, and she led him out to the patio where three small, round, wrought iron tables sat along with several chairs.
“I must admit, I have never been to this side of my house before,” Algernon confessed as he took in the walls of ivy, the ornate wrought-iron double gate, and the flagstones.
“This is where the deliveries come in,” Beatrice explained as she took the seat. “That way the servants do not have to traverse though half of the house to get the groceries to the kitchen.”
“It is quite private,” Algernon mused, taking the moonlit space in. “Almost like an entirely different part of the world. Onewould never know that the rest of London lied beyond those walls.”
This time, Beatrice did smile.
“I am glad you like it,” she said then drew in a deep breath of the warm, flower-scented air. “It is one of my favorite places on your property.”
Algernon brought his gaze back to her, a small smile twitching on his lips.
“I can understand why,” he replied then took the seat across from her and placed her teacup and saucer before her.
“Drink,” he encouraged, and without a thought, Beatrice obeyed, taking the warm cup in both hands to have a small sip.
“So, about this nightmare of yours,” Algernon went on as she placed her cup back onto the saucer, “was it about your family?”
Beatrice’s mirth slipped away suddenly.
“Yes,” she confessed, sliding her pointer finger around the rim of her teacup.
“Tell me about it,” Algernon urged.
She looked up at him, but as she saw the softness in his otherwise hard gaze, she realized that it was not an order but an invitation.
“I was born with blue eyes,” she said softly.
Algernon’s brows furrowed.
“Beatrice that is not a dream. That is a fact,” he said quickly, and Beatrice could not help the twitch of her lips.
“I am aware,” she countered dryly.
“However, it is their color that caused my father to treat me the way he does,” she explained.
The look of confusion on Algernon’s handsome face deepened, but this time, he did not interrupt.
“My mother’s eyes were a beautiful honey brown. Almost golden—theyweregolden when she laughed,” Beatrice went on, a longing rising in her chest for the woman she missed so very much. “And my father’s eyes, as you might have noticed, are a deep, murky brown. Almost black in some lights. So, when my mother gave birth to a blue-eyed child, he became convinced that my mother had an affair.”
“You are not serious?!” Algernon spoke up, looking alarmed.
“Oh, quite,” Beatrice replied with the nod of her head. “I do not remember the first few years of my life, but from what I had been told by the other servants when I was older, Simeon made it a point to try to force a confession out of my mother.
“The only issue was, there was no confession for her to make. My mother, for whatever reasons she had, had a love for Simeon, at least in the beginning, and swore to God that she’d never been with another. She supposedly begged Simeon to be patient, to wait and see how my features developed, and he would see that I was as much a part of him as I was of her.”
Beatrice sucked her teeth as she continued to fiddle with the rim of her teacup.
“I never did come into his features, though,” she went on. “Instead, I looked precisely like my mother. A miniature version of her, my nanny used to say, save for my blue eyes.
“As I grew older, my mother and I tried to gain Simeon’s affection together. She taught me how to read, write, and sing. Right before her death, she had started me on harp lessons. She was determined to show Simeon that I was truly a noble child,hischild, and I would grow up to be a lovely lady.”
She paused, pressing her lips together as she shook her head.
“Nothing ever worked, though. No plan conspired would convince Simeon that I was indeed his child, and each would instead drive him further away.”