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She wanted to call him Philip again, but he had let that one time pass without comment and she had a feeling that would not be true again, and she did not want to shake what they shared together.
She held that little spark of happiness close to her chest as she examined herself in the mirror. The mint-green gown that her maid had selected for the tea was wonderful. It made her feel fresh and beautiful. Or perhaps that was sleeping in Briggs’s arms at night.
The door opened and the housekeeper arrived. ‘Your Grace, Miss Eleanor Hastings is here to see you.’
She walked out of the bedchamber and went down to the morning room, where Eleanor was already seated.
‘Eleanor,’ Beatrice said, and her friend stood, crossing the room quickly and embracing her.
Eleanor was as delicate and beautiful as ever. The pale blue silk she was wearing suited her eyes and complexion perfectly.
‘How are you?’ Beatrice asked. ‘Please tell me that Hugh isn’t being an ogre.’
‘No more so than usual,’ Eleanor said, looking away.
Beatrice looked hard at her friend. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing,’ Eleanor said. ‘I’m here for the Season. I will find a husband. That is a good thing.’
‘Yes,’ Beatrice said. ‘If it is what you want.’
‘I’m not like you, Beatrice. I do not have an assured place in this world whether I marry or not.’ Eleanor sighed. ‘I’m sorry. That was not a kind thing to say. I know that Hugh demanded you not marry.’
Beatrice shook her head. ‘I’m not angry.’
The doors to the room opened and the maid came in with a tea service on a rolling tray. She laid it out before them, lovely sandwiches and cakes, and two pots of tea, along with two ornate teacups.
Beatrice smiled. ‘I like being married.’ She thought about Briggs, and the things that they did together, and her face went hot. ‘I mean... I like... I’m pleased that I get to host you in my own home.’
‘And what of Briggs?’ Eleanor asked.
‘He is... I care for him a great deal, Eleanor.’
‘Of course you do,’ Eleanor said. ‘You always have.’
There was so much she wanted to say to Eleanor, but there was... She wasn’t sure she could say it. Eleanor cared so deeply for Hugh that it might put her in a difficult position. But no, she would never speak of such things to him.
‘I want to speak to a doctor again,’ Beatrice said. ‘About having a baby.’
Eleanor looked shocked. ‘But they said you could not.’
‘I know. But I...’ She felt the colour mount in her face. She knew she wouldn’t be able to hide it. ‘I have been with him. Intimately.’
‘Beatrice...’
‘It could not... We could not... You don’t understand, Eleanor. He is the other half of me. I...’
‘You’re in love with him,’ Eleanor said softly.
The words struck a chord deep inside her that echoed like a bell in her head. Made her teeth ache, made her chest hurt.
Oh, no.
What a terrible thing to realise.
‘I had hoped,’ Beatrice said, slowly, ‘that love would feel nicer.’
‘Is he not nice?’
