“Would you—well, would you mind if I spoke bluntly?” he asked.
“Please do,” she urged. “In fact, I insist upon it.”
“I should like to marry you, Beatrice,” Henry replied hastily.
There it was. Everything Algernon had hoped for.
Beatrice tried to reach for even just a kernel of excitement within her, but she could not find it.
“That is a very lovely offer, Henry,” she simply replied.
“Kind of you to say, but I need to confess something first,” Henry said in equal haste as before. “You were correct. I do have a secret. One that my brother has been trying most determinedly to keep from theton.”
“Whatever your secret is, Henry, it is safe with me,” Beatrice promised.
Henry stopped walking as they reached the middle of the gardens, and he took Beatrice’s free hand. There was no spark from his touch, no shiver down her spine. It was simply flesh touching flesh.
He drew in a shaky breath, and for a moment, Beatrice feared he might faint from how frightened he looked.
“You are safe with me,” she repeated, squeezing his hand for comfort.
Henry’s eyes flicked up to hers, and in them, she saw a mixture of unshed tears, gratitude, and fear.
“Idolove you, Beatrice,” he said, squeezing her hand tight. “You are a lovely,wonderfullypure and kind soul. Your compassion for others is astonishing, and the way you have attempted to soothe things between my brother and I has not gone unnoticed. If we were to marry, I would love to be your closest friend and confidante. I would treasure you, protect you, give you anything you asked for.”
He paused, biting his lips as his brows furrowed.
“But I could not ever beinlove with you,” he confessed, his voice breaking. “Nor could I give you the intimate sort of relationship most husbands share with their wives because I—I?—”
“Because your tastes run toward men?” Beatrice quietly offered after Henry appeared to struggle some more.
His sage green eyes grew large as he grew paler than before.
“What have you heard?” he whispered.
“Nothing!” she quickly assured, and without thinking, she stepped in to hug him.
It was the closest she had come to someone who was not Algernon, but her urge to comfort him overrode her own sorrow.
“No one has breathed a word,” she promised, holding him tight as she felt him tremble with fear. “I just—well I am more observant than people realize, and I have known men like you. No one of nobility, but I have witnessed certain traits. It was not until recently that I put it together that you may be that certain sort of man, but even then, I did not know for certain.”
Regret flashed through his eyes.
“Traits,” he said the word bitterly. “For example, leaving you at a party to walk away with a man.”
Beatrice crinkled her nose.
“It was obvious to me how much your character changed once you saw that man,” Beatrice slowly explained. “You were very happy to be my side, but after you conversed with that gentleman? You positively glowed. There was an excitement in your eyes that far exceeded our fun of the evening. Again, it was something that the others would not notice. Only someone who knew you well would have seen the difference.”
Henry nibbled at the corner of his bottom lip, making him appear more like a lost, frightened boy than the grown man he was.
“I tried, you know,” he rasped. “When I was younger, I tried very hard to like women. I could flirt effortlessly, I could charm, but—but when it came to something more serious, I never could make myself—I could neverfeelwhat I was supposed to feel.”
Beatrice reached up and cupped his cheek, urging him to look at her. It took a moment, but eventually, he did, his green eyes watery and full of emotion.
“I cannot imagine how hard this has all been for you,” Beatrice confessed, “but what I do know is that you are a wonderful person who should have to be nothing more than what you are.”
A tortured sound erupted from Henry’s lip, and he leaned forward, pressing his forehead to hers. She let him lean on her as long as he needed while he gathered himself. After a few moments, Henry exhaled a breath and leaned away.