Relief trickled into Beatrice’s heartache, and this time as she smiled, it actually felt genuine.
“I promise,” she answered, squeezing his hand return.
Henry let out a breath of relief, and they embraced again.
“I am not comfortable how this plan of my brothers was brought about,” he confessed, “but I must admit that I would rather you be here than anywhere else. You deserve so much more than to simply be a mistress or a courtesan. And with our marriage, you will never have to fear being forced into that life ever again.”
“Thank you,” Beatrice whispered, and leaning up on her toes, she placed a kiss on his cheek.
“We shall make this life of ours good, Beatrice,” Henry insisted then he placed a kiss on her forehead. “I swear it.”
It was a soft kiss. Sweet. Innocent. One that a brother would bestow upon a sister—or best friend.
“So, Lady Beatrice,” Henry said, his usual dramatic flair returning as he went to one knee, grinning from ear to ear, “shall we make this official?”
Beatrice couldn’t help but giggle as she gave him her left hand and looked down at him.
“I suppose we should,” she agreed, matching his lightheartedness of the situation.
Henry pulled out a small gold ring with a round sapphire stone set in the middle.
“Will you, Lady Beatrice Cooper, do me the honor of becoming my wife, my friend, and my keeper of secrets?” he asked.
It was not the proposal she truly wanted. However, the life that Henry could offer her? It sounded quite lovely.
“I will,” she replied.
Henry positively beamed as he slid the ring onto her finger then he stood and once more kissed her forehead.
“You know I will be designing your gown, right?” he asked, his brows perking up with attitude as he continued to grin. “I cannot have my bride in anything less than gorgeous perfection.”
Beatrice giggled as they both turned to head back to the house, their arms draped leisurely around one another’s backs.
“I would suspect no less,” she replied. “Though I pray, no giant flowers this time.”
Henry chuckled but agreed.
“So,” he sighed as they neared the house a short while later, “shall we go interrupt my overly meddling grump of a big brother? Let him know his plan worked? I must warn you though, he will gloat.”
Beatrice’s smile faded as another wave of pain swept through her chest.
“Umm, no. You can tell him on your own. Algernon and I have been stepping on each other’s toes lately, and it has become most annoying. Your proposal comes at quite the convenient time. I am certain he is looking forward to being done with me.”
Henry chortled.
“You annoy one another?” he asked.
“Greatly,” Beatrice said with a humorless laugh.
“Well, my dear, Beatrice, I had thought that I was as observant as you were, but clearly, I was wrong. The way he was acting toward you, with you, I had been sure that my brother was falling in love with you.”
His words hurt so much that Beatrice could not reach for a false smile or laugh this time. In fact, she had to hold her breath for several seconds as tears threatened to spring to her eyes again.
“No,” she said hoarsely. “No, Algernon is certainly not in love with me.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
“After everything that has unfolded, are we truly back to this place?” Algernon asked.