Chapter 26

Old Habits

Beatrice lay awake in her bed. She heard the Duke return from his evening with Lord Pemberton. She looked up at the ceiling, trying to listen for any sign that her husband was coming to her room. She needed him in her bed.

There was movement from downstairs, and then he entered the adjoining room. Beatrice rolled onto her side, staring at the door that connected their room.

Pleasurable pressure grew in her core again, making her ache for him. She glared at the door as if it were the one keeping them apart. She longed not only for his touch but his company, too.

She waited until there was silence.

He is not coming for me.

She needed to take matters into her own hands. She got out of bed and went to the door, pressing her ear to the wood. When she could not hear any sounds from the other side, she knocked gently on the door.

“Come in,” the Duke called.

Beatrice suddenly felt naked in only her shift. She opened the door, but not fully, and looked inside to find Edwin sitting in the chair close to the bed. He looked up at her, but there was no happiness on his face.

“Is everything well?” Beatrice asked, not wanting to step into the room. “How was your supper with Lord Pemberton?”

“It was fine,” Edwin replied. “We spoke about the scandal, but so far we don’t have any leads.”

“I am sure Miss Jennings is behind it,” Beatrice commented.

“As am I,” Edwin admitted. “But there is nothing to be done yet, as there is no proof she has done anything.”

“I will speak to her myself,” Beatrice stated, annoyed that her husband had lost some of the merriment she had seen in him.

“I will handle it,” Edwin insisted. “It will take time, but it is my concern.”

Beatrice did not want it to be his concern, even if she felt comforted and secure under his watch.

“Is there anything I can do? Anything you need?” she asked.

“No,” Edwin replied. “I will sit here and think for a while, and then I shall go to bed.”

“All right,” Beatrice sighed.

She took one last look at him, sad that she could not help him, and then she retreated into her room, disappointed.

She lay down on her bed, knowing that sleep would not come easily. The Duke had assured her multiple times that she was not to blame for what was happening, but she knew it was her fault. She ran away from her problems and then stole him from under Agnes’s nose.

Beatrice would not change that for the world. She could not imagine having as much fun with the two men she had been promised to as she was having with Edwin. There were ups and downs, but the ups made up for those downs.

A million thoughts were racing in her mind, but the biggest one was that she would not get to lie with the Duke again if he was so preoccupied with protecting her reputation. They could not move on with their lives when Agnes was disrupting them.

It was not long after that when Beatrice heard the Duke rise from his chair and go to bed. He lay on his bed, and she lay on hers, but they felt a world apart. She could not just lie there anymore.

Beatrice climbed out of bed and moved around her bedroom as quietly as she could. She had unpacked most of her trunks, but there was one hidden under her bed. She took a few minutes to remove it, not making any scratching sounds. Then she placed it on her bed and opened it.

She was not sure until that moment why she had brought the clothes. She had felt calmer by having them, as if they could provide an escape if she needed it. That night, they provided a temporary escape.

She took the clothes from the trunk and donned them, dressing as a man again so she could sneak out. There was also a small purse of coins she had saved. She had to take matters into her own hands.

She went to the connecting door and pressed her ear to it, but she heard no sound. She pulled the hood up over her head and left her bedroom, hoping no one heard her.

Beatrice had wandered around the manor many times, and she knew where to put her feet to avoid the creaking floorboards. She made it down the corridor to the stairs at the rear of the manor, and then she descended to the ground floor. She listened for any movement, but the manor was silent.

She left the manor through the back door, wearing pants and a long cloak that hid her hair. She stuck to the shadows, making her way to the stables. She slipped inside and found a saddled horse. Then she quickly mounted it and left.

She was free.

Beatrice caught herself at that moment thinking about fleeing again. She could leave on her horse and remove the problems for everyone else.

No, I am done running! It’s time to face my problems.

The wind whipped at her hood as she rode, and she wanted to untie her hair, but she was riding in disguise, and it had to stay that way. The horse was swift, and she kept to the dirt roads, not staying too close to any areas that might be populated. She passed a couple at some point, but they paid her little notice.

Beatrice felt a giddiness at being outside at night again in her disguise. She could pretend she was someone else and not worry about her problem. Still, she was on her way to try and solve that problem.

The Red Lion was not a tavern she had frequented a lot, but it was her destination that night. She had spoken to a man in The Red Lion once who worked frequently on Lord Velasquez’s estate. That helped her little, but his sister had worked as a lady’s maid for Agnes last year, and she hoped that was still the case.

A large wooden sign above the tavern entrance flapped in the wind. It portrayed a red lion rearing up on its hind legs, its mouth open in a snarl. The building was not very large, similar to a regular cottage, and had a thatched roof. The lamps inside gave off a warm glow.

Beatrice pulled her steed to a halt. She dismounted and tied the reins to one of the wooden posts. Sounds came from inside the tavern, but it didn’t sound overly busy. She hoped her friend was inside—there was a good chance, as he drank there almost every night, from what she remembered.

Beatrice took a deep breath and walked into the tavern. She felt all eyes on her, but no one turned to look at the person who entered. No one could care less about one more patron in the establishment, though they might care more if they knew a duchess was in their midst.

The tavern, while not full, was still bursting with a lively atmosphere of laughter, conversation, and clanking metal tankards. The smell of steak and kidney pie brought back a memory of a night in a different tavern over a year ago.

Beatrice licked her lips, and her stomach rumbled even though she’d had a hearty supper with Modesty and Elizabeth. She looked around the tavern but could not see the man she was looking for. She did not think anyone would recognize her, but she kept her hood up and her head down.

She walked toward the bar, and someone bumped shoulders with her. Her first instinct was to look the person in the eye, but her second instinct—her innate survival instinct—told her to keep her head down to avoid any potential trouble.

The best way to blend in was to look like she belonged, so Beatrice went to the bar and ordered some ale. It was not normally a drink she would consume, but something about it was appealing. She had often ordered ale whenever she snuck out of her family home and enjoyed a few sips while never finishing an entire tankard.

“Cheers,” she said, keeping her voice low.

She took the tankard of ale and moved into one of the two rooms off the main room. It was there that she spotted her old friend sitting with two other men at a table. Beatrice found her way to a separate table near the far corner, in line of sight of Trevor McDairmond.

She took a sip of the ale after sitting, more memories flooding her mind. She knew she should not be out, but the excitement was intoxicating.

Trevor did not look up just yet. Beatrice kept her hood low and her head mostly down but kept an eye on Trevor. She could see the main room behind him—the bar ran along one wall, with shelves stocked with bottles of wine and spirits, and two large barrels sitting on the floor.

It only took Trevor five minutes before he looked up. He caught Beatrice’s eyes, held them for a second, and then looked down again. He spooned chunks of meat from his bowl of stew into his mouth. When he looked up a second time, a flicker of recognition crossed his features.

He said something to his two friends and then picked up his drink. He walked over to Beatrice’s table and swung his leg over the back of the chair to sit down.

“Didn’t think I would see you again. It’s been a long time,” he grunted.

He looked older and a little more grizzled but had the same glint in his eyes. He was always quick with a joke or a story.

“It has,” Beatrice agreed, using her regular voice but speaking quietly.

“How have you been?” Trevor asked.

“Getting up to my usual mischief,” Beatrice replied. “I’m married now.”

“Goodness. Lord help that poor man. Who would want to settle down with you?”

Beatrice laughed. “Oh, just some duke.”

Trevor raised an eyebrow. “Is that a fact?”

“Seems so,” Beatrice told him. “Are you still working at the same place?”

“No, I started a new job a month or so ago. I’m the head gardener for Lady Hammersmith now. I get to work outside, and she has lovely grounds. She allows me to stay in a small cottage on the edge of the estate. I got pretty lucky if you ask me.”

“You’ve done well for yourself.” Beatrice nodded. “How about your sister?”

“Still working for the Viscount Willmington,” Trevor replied. “She’s not a lady’s maid anymore, just a maid now. There was some trouble with Miss Jennings, and it was all her fault if you ask me. But who cares what I think? Thankfully, my sister still has a job in the house. Small mercies.”

“I know Miss Jennings well,” Beatrice said.

When Trevor looked at her again, she made a face that told him exactly what she thought of Agnes.

“She’s been causing trouble for me,” Beatrice continued. “Giving false stories to the scandal sheets.”

“Don’t ever read them myself,” Trevor admitted.

“And you will be the better for it,” Beatrice assured him.

“Is that why you came here tonight?” Trevor asked. “I assume your husband doesn’t know you are here?”

“He doesn’t need to know,” Beatrice replied.

Trevor took a large gulp of his ale and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “So, how can I be of assistance to you?”

“Can you ask your sister if she knows anything about what Miss Jennings is up to? I know she is likely planning more against me. I don’t have proof that she is behind that article in the scandal sheets, but if I can get it, I can stop her from attacking me again or hurting anyone else.”

Beatrice tapped her fingers on the table, unable to stop.

“I can’t promise anything,” Trevor warned. “Sally is on thin ice as it is, and if she causes any more trouble, she might be sacked.”

“I don’t want to cause any trouble for her. I wouldn’t have asked if it were not important,” Beatrice said.

“I know.” Trevor nodded. “I will talk to her and see what she can do. I have a feeling she will do all she can to undermine Miss Jennings. Sally enjoys working for the household but never has a good word to say about that woman.”

Beatrice looked up quickly, fearing someone might hear them talking. “Thank you, Trevor. You are a good man. If you or your sister are ever looking for a position, there’s a place for you both at Walford Estate.”

Trevor cocked an eyebrow now that he knew the duke she had married.

“There’s a place for you,” Beatrice repeated.

“All right,” he replied. “I should let you go, and I should get back before anyone comes over. It really is good seeing you again, especially knowing you are still getting into trouble.”

Beatrice smiled at him. She picked up her tankard of ale and clanked it against his before taking a drink. Trevor drained his mug before taking it back to the bar to be refilled.

A mostly full tankard of ale was left on the table when Beatrice stood up. She kept her head down as she walked through the bar again. Trevor looked over from the bar and nodded as she made her way toward the main door.

She felt the hair at the back of her neck stand on end when she reached the door. She turned around and looked back into the bar. One of the patrons jerked quickly, looking down at their table. It was the same person who had bumped into her earlier. She looked at the figure for a second more before leaving.

It is likely nothing.

She had nothing to gain by discovering who the person was and if she knew them. She had achieved what she had come for.

Mounting her horse, Beatrice rode home.