Chapter 12

“Wherein the truth is revealed, for better or for worse.”

27 th November 1820.

She had smiled at him. Justin clung to that, hoping against hope that she would allow him to explain everything, that this collision with his dreadful past would not ruin it all. Numbly, he escorted her after Mrs Jenkins, wondering what on earth the wretched woman would have from him now. He knew he ought not to be angry with her; it was her husband who had created this damnable situation, but having been so close to happiness to now risk losing it all was something he could not face with equanimity.

Mrs Jenkin’s home was a small, terraced property, facing directly onto the street. It was far smaller and shabbier than everything she had left behind, and Justin knew he should not judge her too harshly. She had done what she had for the right reasons as, for once, had he.

She showed them into a small, dark parlour where a lacklustre fire burned. Mrs Jenkins lit a lamp, which improved the ambiance somewhat, and a maid hurried in, from whom the lady ordered tea. Still, it was about as awkward a situation as any he’d faced during his less than illustrious career as a libertine, and that was saying something.

“Well,” Bea said, taking off her bonnet and laying it to one side before facing Mrs Jenkins. “I assume you are petitioning my husband for the sake of your child. Please, let me assure you, that if there is responsibility, Justin will do the right thing by you. Won’t you, Justin?” she said, and there was that smile again, tentative but full of understanding.

She would forgive him, he realised then, his heart expanding so he did not know if his chest could contain the feeling. His wife believed this woman’s child was his, and she would not hate him for it.

“It’s not mine!” The words exploded from him before he could think of a more elegant way of putting it, but he didn’t much care, so long as she knew. “Lavinia was never my lover. It was all a sham.”

Bea stared at him, wide-eyed, and then gave a choked laugh. “Oh,” she said, a harsh breath leaving her as tears sparkled in her eyes. “Oh, that’s… that’s good.”

She sat down heavily, as if whatever force of will had kept her upright had left her in a rush.

“Bea,” he cried, sitting down beside her and taking her hands, raising first one and then the other to his lips. “Bea, I shall never disgrace you so, I swear it. I know I might give you cause for embarrassment in the future, when my past rears its ugly head and shames us both, but I swear upon all that I hold dear, that I will never betray you. Please, love, please bel—”

“I believe you.” The words were quiet but spoken with certainty, her calm green gaze settling upon him like a benediction.

“You… You do?” She nodded, and Justin let out a breath. “Thank God for you, Bea. Thank God.”

He looked up then to see Lavinia watching them anxiously. A nervous smile curved her lips. “Well, Rutherford, I never thought to see you of all men brought to your knees by love. Certainly not by your wife! How the ladies of the ton will weep to discover your icy heart has finally been thawed. They called him the Winter Rogue, you know,” she added, speaking now to Bea. “On account of his caring for no one. Not even himself, I think.”

“That’s enough,” Justin said, uncomfortable with the line of conversation. His wife had experienced enough upset for one day without Lavinia making off-colour jokes or references to his reprehensible past. “Tell me what it is that has you in such a taking and do it quickly.”

Lavinia flushed but nodded, sitting down beside the fire with little grace, for her burgeoning body made the movement awkward. “I beg you will forgive me my plain speaking, Lady Rutherford, but the truth is, my dolt of a husband has finally realised that I could not have had an affair with your husband. His staff watched me so closely, spying on my every move and reporting back to him that there was no possible way I could have slipped away, even for an hour, without someone noticing. I think he was so incensed by your declaring the affair to his face, Rutherford, that he did not stop to think why I might wish for such a thing.”

“You wished to escape?” Bea asked, her expression one of concern.

Justin took her hand and clasped it, wondering at the compassion he saw in his wife’s eyes for a woman who was notorious for having an affair with her husband.

Lavinia nodded. “My husband is a brute, my lady. I will tell you now that I was never unfaithful to him, not with Rutherford nor anyone else. But Robert beat me, often, and with enough brutality that, when I fell pregnant, I feared for my child. Fool that I was, I hoped that the promise of an heir would stay his hand. I was wrong.”

“Oh, Mrs Jenkins. I cannot imagine how frightened you must have been,” Bea said, such genuine regret in her voice that Lavinia’s eyes filled with tears.

“I hope you cannot. I know you never will with Rutherford at least. I envy you that much. I was in love once, you know, and my sweetheart offered for me, but my father forbade the match and forced me to marry Robert. A far more suitable match in his opinion.”

“Oh, how I detest the meddling of men!” Bea said furiously. “Why is it a woman cannot decide for herself who is to have the keeping of her. At least any mistakes would be our own. I am so sorry, Mrs Jenkins, for all you have endured, and that you have been treated so ill,” Bea said, her obvious rage making the woman smile.

“Why, how passionate you are, my lady, and compassionate too. Now, I see why you love her so, Rutherford.”

“For that and for a good many other reasons,” Justin said softly, smiling as Bea blushed scarlet.

Lavinia carried on her story, speaking directly to Bea. “I was frightened and desperate, knowing there was no one who would help me. I tried to contact my old sweetheart, hoping he might help me, but he returned to France after my marriage, and if he did contact me, I fear Robert destroyed his letters. I tried telling my friends that Robert beat me, but they only became embarrassed and said such things were between a man and his wife. Then, during a party, Justin stepped in when Robert…Well, he was angry with me for something, I don’t even remember what, but Robert took me outside onto the terrace and would have slapped me for my misdemeanour there and then, only Justin was there, and he caught Robert’s hand. He told him only the lowest kind of man laid hands on a woman, and that he prayed Robert was not quite that contemptible.”

Justin experienced the oddest sensation as Bea turned her gaze upon him, pride shining in her eyes. Pride? For him? The sensation flooded him, warm and soothing, smoothing off rough edges and tending wounds that had festered for decades. She was proud of him, and anything now seemed possible.

“That sounds like my husband,” she said, turning back to Lavinia.

Lavinia nodded. “I admit, I did not realise then what an honourable man Rutherford was. When I asked what I did of him, I did not understand what I would do to him. I believed his name already so black another such scandal would not touch him or cause him a moment's distress. I was wrong, and… and I am sorry, Rutherford, sorry for all that befell you because you were kind to me. I am most sincerely sorry that you were so grievously hurt in that duel. Please know that I prayed for you daily, prayed that you would recover and find happiness.”

Justin nodded, finding that her words helped somewhat, knowing that she recognised he had sacrificed a good deal for a woman he barely knew. Perhaps he had done something thing to earn his wife’s arrival in his life.

“When Rutherford told Robert we were having an affair, in public, it forced his hand. He had to divorce me or become a laughingstock. Rutherford took me in for a few days until I could arrange a place of my own. I lived close to London while the dreadful crimcon continued, but then I moved away, hoping to be a little less notorious, and I have been here ever since.” She gestured to the cramped little parlour with a wan smile. “Do not pity me too much, my lady. My reduced circumstances are trying, but I would not swap this for a beautiful house and pretty gowns and a man who hurt me without caring most every day.”

“Believe me, I understand,” Bea said, and Justin squeezed her fingers, knowing she was remembering the circumstances under which she had sought him out.

“So now Robert has realised the child is his, he’s threatening to take it from you once it is born?” Justin guessed.

Lavinia nodded, her face crumpling. “Yes,” she said, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. But I have a plan, Rutherford, and… and I only need a little help. I know I have no right to ask after you did so much for me already.”

“Name it,” Bea said, her voice firm. “No man who would beat his wife should have the right to do so to a child. Tell us what you need, and we shall see to it. Won’t we, Justin?”

She looked up at him, such trust in her eyes that Justin knew he was hopelessly, irrevocably in love with his wife. “Yes, love,” he said, nodding at her. “We’ll do anything we can to help.”

Bea leaned against Justin as the carriage took them home to Chalfont. She felt exhausted, as if she had overcome some terrible trial. She had, she supposed, remembering when she had seen Justin with Mrs Jenkins. For a moment her happiness had teetered on a knife’s edge, everything she had dreamed of and hoped for, weighed in the balance.

How glad she was she had not assumed the worst, that she had given him the chance to explain things. She might have ruined everything by throwing accusations around, for even though Justin could have proven his innocence, she would have hurt him by not trusting him, would have damaged the belief he’d begun to have in himself, that he could have the life he had turned his back on as a grieving boy.

“Thank you.”

His voice was quiet and solemn as the carriage rumbled through the lanes, twilight casting shadows along the lanes as they drew close to home. They had barely spoken since leaving Mrs Jenkins, but it had not been an uneasy silence, just a fatigued one. They had both been upset, afraid, their worlds thrown into doubt, and even the relief of realising that it wasn’t true seemed to sap their energy. Justin’s arms tightened around her as his words settled in her heart.

Bea said nothing. Responding with ‘you’re welcome’ seemed trite somehow, and she did not know how else to reply, so she simply covered his hands with her own.

When they arrived back at Chalfont, Bea asked Rachel to prepare a bath before turning to Justin. He dismissed the footmen and Morley, leaving them alone in the hallway.

“I’ll eat in my room tonight,” she told him, smiling to soften the blow and to show it wasn’t a punishment. “Today has been rather… tiring.”

Justin nodded, his expression full of regret as he reached for her hands.

“Bea—”

“No, wait. Nothing has changed,” she assured him. “Nothing at all. I meant what I said to you, and I do not regret it.”

He closed his eyes and then opened them again, smiling at her. “I will never give you cause to regret it,” he told her, his expression grave.

Bea nodded and lifted on her toes to kiss his cheek, wanting to be sure he knew she meant what she said. A prickle of golden stubble pressed against her lips and the strangest sensation uncoiled deep in her belly, liquid and warm. It made her want to press closer, to lower her lips to the place beneath his ear where his pulse thrummed. His scent, starched linen and bergamot and warm male skin, invaded her senses, making her giddy and strangely restless. Unsettled, Bea pushed away from him, offering him a shy smile before she fled, hurrying up the stairs to her room.

Justin watched his wife run up the stairs, his heart thudding. His skin seemed too tight, as if it no longer fit him. Longing surged through his blood, together with the desire to give chase, to show her all the things she did not understand awaited them both, if only she would let go of the last vestiges of reserve and trust him… but he could not ask for that. Certainly not after the day she’d had. He had hoped to give her a pleasant outing, the first of many, an indication of the life they could share together. Justin smiled as he supposed he had done so, in a way. The first half of their day had been perfection and the rest… well, she had told him she was proud of him, she had told him she did not regret saying she loved him, that nothing had changed.

That was more than he could have believed possible such a short while ago, so he would not be so greedy as to lament another night in a lonely bed, dreaming of the woman he desired above all others. Anticipation was not such a curse after all; it would only make their coming together all the sweeter.