Chapter 26

Chapter Twenty-Six

" T his is ridiculous," Beatrice muttered, staring at the canvas before her.

The colors blurred together, refusing to take shape as her mind raced with thoughts of her argument with Kenneth.

Two days had passed since their heated exchange, and the tension between them had only grown thicker, a palpable presence that seemed to suffocate the very air around her.

She set her brush down with a frustrated sigh, realizing that her attempts to lose herself in her work were futile. The painting, which had once been a source of solace and escape, now felt like a burden, a reminder of the growing distance between her and her husband.

Her mind wandered to the past two days of awkward silences and carefully orchestrated avoidance. Kenneth had taken to having his meals in his chambers, and she had retreated to her studio, throwing herself into her art with little success.

The nights were the worst—her bed felt impossibly large and cold without his warm, solid presence beside her. She missed the comfort of his arms, the sound of his steady breathing, and even the occasional snores that she used to tease him about.

Their routine had been disrupted, leaving a void that neither seemed to know how to fill. Even the servants had noticed, walking on eggshells around them. The tension was palpable, hanging heavy in the air like an oppressive fog.

I can't go on like this.

Her chest tightened with anger and longing.

We need to talk, to find a way past this.

With a determined set to her shoulders, Beatrice rose from her stool and made her way towards Kenneth's study. She knew it wouldn't be easy, that their pride and stubbornness could make any attempt at reconciliation a battle in itself, but she was willing to take that first step.

As she approached the heavy oak door, she was surprised to find it slightly ajar. The sound of voices from within made her pause, her hand hovering over the handle.

A feminine voice, all too familiar, drifted to her ears, the words making her blood run cold.

"Kenneth, darling, you must be so terribly bored with that little wife of yours," Lady Featherwell purred, her tone dripping with false sympathy. "A man like you needs excitement, passion. Something I'm sure she can't provide."

Beatrice felt her heart clench, a wave of jealousy and hurt washing over her.

How dare she speak of me that way! And in my own home!

"Come now, Kenneth," Lady Featherwell continued, her voice lowering seductively. "Surely you remember our delightful flirtations? The spark between us? I could fan those embers into a roaring flame in an instant."

There was a pause, and Beatrice held her breath, straining to hear Kenneth's response. When it came, his voice was low and noncommittal.

"Lady Featherwell, I don't think?—"

"Don't think, darling," Lady Featherwell interrupted. " Feel . Let me show you what you're missing out on."

Why isn't he stopping her? Why isn't he defending our marriage?

Beatrice's mind raced, her heart pounding in her chest. The very idea of Lady Featherwell trying to tempt Kenneth, to lure him away from her, made her feel nauseous.

Before Lady Featherwell could spew more poisonous words, Beatrice knocked firmly on the door and entered, her head held high despite her inner turmoil.

"Lady Featherwell," she greeted coolly, her eyes narrowing at the sight of the other woman draped across the chair opposite Kenneth's desk. "What a surprise to find you here. Will you be staying for tea?"

Kenneth cleared his throat, his expression unreadable. "No, Lady Featherwell was just leaving. She came to seek some advice on the renovation of her summer estate which is some miles away."

Beatrice felt her jaw clench at the insinuation. "How fortunate for you. I'm sure Kenneth's expertise has been invaluable."

"Oh, my dear." Lady Featherwell laughed, the sound grating on Beatrice's nerves. "I have always sought the best… advice."

"I'm sure you have," Beatrice replied, her smile razor-sharp. "Though one wonders why you'd travel so far for mere advice on renovations. Surely there are competent tradesmen closer to home?"

Lady Featherwell's eyes narrowed slightly. "Quality is worth traveling for, wouldn't you agree? But I mustn't keep you. I'm sure you have… things to attend to."

"Indeed," Beatrice said, her voice dripping with honeyed venom. "Do have a safe journey home, Lady Featherwell. The roads can be so treacherous for those who don't watch their steps."

With a curt nod to Beatrice, Lady Featherwell swept out of the study, the door closing behind her with a decisive click.

Beatrice turned to Kenneth. "I heard what she said to you before I came in. How she tried to tempt you away from me."

Kenneth's jaw clenched, his posture stiff and defensive. "You were eavesdropping? Spying on our conversation?"

Beatrice drew herself up, her voice steady. "I wasn't eavesdropping. I happened to hear it as I approached. And I'm not sorry I did."

"My conversation with Lady Featherwell was nothing of importance," Kenneth said.

"Nothing?" Beatrice scoffed, her hands balling into fists at her sides. "Then why didn't you put a stop to her advances immediately?"

Kenneth's jaw tightened. "Lady Featherwell and I have known each other for years. I was merely being polite. Besides, you shouldn't worry about Lady Featherwell and me when you've done nothing to discourage Lord Eastfold's attentions."

Beatrice recoiled as if she'd been slapped. "How dare you! Lord Eastfold is a friend because he is your business associate, nothing more. I've never given you cause to doubt my loyalty."

"Haven't you?" Kenneth raised an eyebrow, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "His lingering glances, the private conversations… It's all rather suspicious, wouldn't you say?"

"You're being ridiculous," Beatrice spat, her cheeks flushing with anger. She took a step towards him, her body trembling with barely contained rage. "I've done nothing wrong. You're the one entertaining the advances of other women!"

Kenneth ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every line of his body. "Beatrice, this isn't getting us anywhere. I think we need to discuss our arrangement."

Her heart sank, a chill creeping into her bones. The sudden shift in his tone made her stomach churn. "What do you mean?"

Kenneth looked down at the floor, unable to meet her eyes. "Perhaps we should halt our arrangement for a while. Take some time away from each other," he said, his voice devoid of emotion.

The words hit Beatrice like a physical blow, knocking the air out of her lungs. She struggled to breathe, to think clearly through the haze of pain that enveloped her. How could he suggest such a thing after everything they'd been through?

She felt as if the room was spinning. She gripped the back of a nearby chair for support, her knuckles turning white.

"I see," she choked out, her voice barely above a whisper. "If that's what you want, then fine."

Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and strode out of the study, quickening her steps as she fought back tears.

She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her break down. Not now. Not ever.