Page 83
Twenty-six
On a less-traveled road to
The Frolicking Fox
THREE HOURS LATER
At the first glimpse of the Duke of Latham’s coach grinding along the path in the distance, Cassius’s blood quickened. His beloved Beatrice was in there, and soon he’d be able to take her in his arms and kiss her until she was breathless, profess how much he adored her, and beg her to accept his hand in marriage.
What a stupid lummox he’d been, refusing to allow himself to love her.
He whistled, and Baldwin glanced over his shoulder.
Grinning, the coachman waved and slowed the team to a gradual stop.
As Cassius approached, Beatrice and Nala poked their heads out the window. Craning to look up at the drivers, Beatrice shielded her eyes from the sun. “Why have we stopped?”
Baldwin jutted his chin in Cassius’s direction, and Beatrice dutifully glanced down the roadway.
Nala woofed a canine greeting.
“Cassius?”
Wonder and perhaps a hint of doubt lit Beatrice’s eyes.
The emerald green bonnet adorned with silk flowers and white feathers enhanced her glorious hair and eyes. A matching spencer with an intricate rose braid and undone silver buttons covered her slender shoulders.
God, she’s lovely.
She’d either borrowed from the Westbrook women or, while she convalesced, had ordered a few garments and accouterments made. If the latter, knowing her as he did, Cassius would bet his studio, she had sewn a portion of her new wardrobe herself.
How Cassius had missed her.
His heart turned over, and joy he thought to never know again thrummed through him.
No, that wasn’t true.
He had never been this happy—had never anticipated the future as much as he did now.
She scrunched her nose in that cute way she did when she was confused.
“Why are you here, Cassius?”
“You, Beatrice Fairfax, left without saying goodbye.”
“I’m not the one who left without saying goodbye.” More than a little heat laced her saucy retort. “You weren’t even at Hefferwickshire House when I left. The same cannot be said of me when you departed.”
Did a driver chuckle?
Cassius didn’t spare them a glance to see which one.
It didn’t matter if they thought him a besotted fool.
What mattered was the woman in the coach.
“And I regretted it every second I was away from you, which is why I am here now. To make amends.”
She eyed him as one might a long-denied treasure—with yearning and wariness.
