Dawn of Destiny (The Warrior Angels Trilogy - Book 1)

Chapter Nineteen

Beatrice settled into her chair and pulled out her diary from the top drawer of her desk. She flipped it open to the next blank page and reached for her quill. After dipping the tip into the ink well, she wrote out the events of her day. She quite enjoyed doing this, sitting back and reflecting on everything. Such as that adorable squire she'd been introduced to.

So, it was he who was going to be her guard someday?

Beatrice recalled a time when she absolutely despised the idea of having Sir Allister's son following her around. But... she didn't entirely oppose the idea now if it was his face that she was going to see all day. And he shared her special trait! His eyes. She had thought she was the only one since Queen Anita. Her father did well in keeping that little secret from her. Perhaps they would get along. Although he was terribly shy, she felt confident she could bring out more in him.

Beatrice signed the entry when someone came knocking at her door, followed by her mother calling for her. She scowled and took a moment to inhale sharply and calm her rising frustration before standing to answer.

Her mother turned away from her handmaiden and smiled kindly at Beatrice.

"Mother," Beatrice blandly addressed, nodding once. "Was there something you needed?"

"Yes, dearest," her mother responded, much more jovially. She extended her hand. "Come with me." Beatrice moved her hands behind her back and exited her room, leaving her mother standing there.

"I shall follow," Beatrice told her, glancing over at her and raising her chin. Her mother's fingers curled in, and her usual sternness hardened her expression. Now, that was more like it.

"Very well," her mother said, taking the lead. Beatrice trailed behind. She couldn't fathom what had her mother in such a chipper mood today.

"We will have to find you another lady," her mother casually mentioned, not looking at her.

Beatrice blinked a few times and tilted her head. "What do you mean?"

Her mother slowed to a halt and turned, her thick skirts flowing with her. She raised her eyebrows—in such an innocent way that truly vexed Beatrice—and asked, "Oh, you were not made aware?" Then she laughed and waved her off. "Why, no wonder you have no idea where we are headed right now, then."

"Mother, could you please elaborate?"

"We are on our way to the ballroom for a small celebration. Yes, a very unplanned celebration, but I thought Samoa deserved something."

Beatrice halted in her tracks, dread filling her chest and compressing it. She moved her hands forward and clutched her light-green tulle skirts.

"Cele... bration?" she asked, much calmer than she felt. "F-For?"

"Her engagement to Luc Wylie, of course! Oh, Beatrice!" Her mother closed the remaining distance between them and embraced her tightly. "It was quite romantic. I have never seen a man look at Samoa the way Lord Wylie does. You should have been there. Ah, but"—she released Beatrice and stepped back, "I trust horse-riding with your father was lovely?"

With that, her mother turned and resumed walking.

Beatrice remained put—dumbstruck and speechless, which was highly unlike her!

Then a hand touched her back and she whirled around, finding Maribel smiling softly at her. She took a deep breath and leaned in closer to her friend.

"She did this," Beatrice harshly whispered. "She arranged for their engagement."