“I am, as I said, quite refreshed in knowing that you were not offended that I did not incline to give you an invitation to a party. And I did hear you when you explained that you felt rather done with parties. However, you have not yet experienced a true English royal ball yet. What if youwereto accompany me to one? I assure you, I am an excellent companion at these things. I would promise you a night of fun and whimsy.”
Beatrice felt panic push into her veins, making her heart beat a little faster, and the fresh air suddenly was difficult to draw into her lungs. So many things could go wrong. It had been years since anyone in thetonhad seen her, but what if someonedidrecognize her? Or worse, what if her old family was also there? Then, of course, there was the fact that she was not overly confident in her etiquette or dance lessons yet. What if she made a mistake and brought embarrassment to Henry? Then all of Algernon’s plans would be in ruin.
Even as much as a week ago, she would not have cared whether she would be married or become the independent woman Algernon promised her she would be if the plan failed, but now? After all she had learned? After hearing and seeing just how much Algernon wanted for his little brother? She did not want to let him down.
“I- I do not know,” she managed to reply, feeling suddenly shaky and anxious over the thought.
She waited for the disappointment, for the chastisement that would come with not readily agreeing to his invitation, but Henry’s smile was kind and patient as he held out the freshly picked bouquet of roses to her.
“It is all right to take some time to think about it,” he encouraged, pressing the stems into her hand. “Perhaps in time, I could convince you.”
Beatrice mustered a smile in return, ready to thank him for his patience. Yet as she clasped her hand around the bouquet, her smile faltered as pain laced into her palm, and she hissed in a breath.
“Oh look,” Henry said with a bored tone.
“I’m al—” she began to murmur as she pulled her hand away and found the thorns had bitten into her palms.
“Here comes my brute of a brother,” Henry said before she could finish.
Her pain quickly forgotten, Beatrice’s head snapped up and followed Henry’s gaze. Sure enough, Algernon was striding their way, his great height making him easy to track through the walking paths throughout the garden. As always, he had a hard look carved into the handsome planes of his face, but even so, Beatrice still felt those butterflies erupt in her stomach.
“He is not doubt coming to chastise me for some thing or another,” Henry muttered in an exhausted tone. “That seems to be his way as of late.”
Beatrice forced her gaze from the incoming brother to the one standing before her.
“Algernon loves you very much, Henry,” she said softly, searching his suddenly guarded expression. “I am sure he does not mean to be scolding you so often.”
Henry let out a humorless laugh as he shook his head.
“You really are the sweetest young lady I have ever met, Beatrice,” he replied. Yet as he said so, even as he smiled, Beatrice was certain she saw a glimmer of pity pass briefly through his sage green eyes.
“Good day, you two,” Algernon’s deep voice greeted them.
Flashes of their night curled up and asleep on the chair outside of the kitchens erupted in her mind upon hearing his voice and catching his scent. She pushed them away and smiled politely at him. Although, even though she could tuck the thoughts away, she could not do the same with the blush that bloomed on her cheeks as he stopped so very close to her and Henry.
“Good day, brother,” Henry answered first, tone wry as he gave him a nod. “I suppose I owe you an apology for not letting you know that I was going to escort Beatrice to the gardens.”
“Not at all,” Algernon replied, his tone surprisingly cheerful as he looked from Henry to Beatrice. “This is indeed a nice sight to see. And I have not had the time to escort her through the gardens myself yet, so it is good that you have done so.”
Henry’s expression was one of astoundment as his jaw dropped. Algernon took the opportunity to turn his gaze upon Beatrice, and the moment his forest green eyes locked on hers, the butterflies in her stomach beat their wings even faster.
“Are you having a good time viewing the gardens?” he asked, his deep voice kind.
“I am,” she replied, holding up the bouquet of roses. “Look what Henry picked for me. Was that not so very thoughtful of him?”
She was still not sure what exactly the rift was between the brothers, but the more she got to know them, the more she felt determined to help mend it. She wanted them to see another in their best light as she did.
Algernon nodded, but as he looked down at the bouquet in her hand, he frowned and reached for them.
“Henry,” he murmured, his much larger fingers gently wrapping around her own to unfurl them from the bouquet. Again, the butterflies went wild as he touched her.
Not wanting either to see how greatly effected she was by his touch, Beatrice dropped her gaze to her now free hands and was alarmed to see that they were both spotted with small, bloody cuts.
“Oh, heavens, Beatrice, my apologies,” Henry gasped, his face going pale as he saw the blood.
“You should know better than to put thorns into such delicate hands,” Algernon chastised, plucking Henry’s kerchief from his jacket pocket and snapping it in the air, adding an extra bite to the words he’d spoken.
Algernon quickly wrapped the stems of the thorned roses with the kerchief and shoved them into Henry’s hands.