"Do we need to journey back?" Beatrice frowned, burdened by the thought. She had just experienced the best two weeks of her entire nineteen years; returning to London would bring everything to an end.
But it didn't matter how much she dreaded it; London was only a few hours away, for they had left Switzerland over a week ago and were in a boarding house in a small village outside of London. By the next morning, they would be in London and their time together would come to a temporary halt.
Brushing her damp hair to the side, Noah kissed her ear. "Yes," he murmured gruffly.
Beatrice sighed, reveling in his nearness as his form covered hers, warming her bare back. She closed her eyes, lacing her fingers with his hand that laid on her belly.
"I do not wish to return," she confessed, "nor do I wish to be away from you."
"Neither do I," he said, but she knew it was as it was. Upon their return to England, they would be required to keep their marriage a secret until Noah publicly ended his engagement to Lady Penelope. The news of the broken engagement would certainly cause a stir, but the news of Noah's marriage to another woman within the period of his engagement would cause a greater stir.
Beatrice cared nothing for society and its opinions of her, but she didn't wish to drag Lady Penelope, an innocent party, into the mess. Lady Penelope had been gracious in her decision to let Noah call off the engagement; exposing Lady Penelope to shame and disgrace would be a cruel form of repayment. To salvage the situation, Beatrice and Noah were left with no other choice but to remain apart, their marriage concealed from society for a few weeks until the news of the broken engagement died down.
"I hate it more than anything else, Bea." His lips trailed down her shoulder blade, along with an icy shiver. "You must know that the second you change your mind about waiting to break the news of our marriage, I shall make the announcement."
"I shall not change my mind." She shook her head, hating the situation they were in—slightly hating Noah for putting them in that situation.
"Then there must be another way. You may stay in Camden."
"News shall travel still. I shall not be selfish in this decision, Noah. Surely you know Lady Penelope shall suffer otherwise!" she snapped, annoyed by his insistence, by their predicament.
His weight over her lifted as he withdrew his hand. She turned in time to watch him sit upright on the bed.
"You blame me for this, do you not?"
She swallowed. It was true; she blamed him. But as she stared at him—the helplessness that sagged his shoulders and the frown that creased his face—she knew he blamed himself as well; she also knew it wasn't entirely his fault. If she hadn't flirted with the duke to provoke Noah's jealousy, he would never have gotten engaged.
"Yes," she said, sitting upright and closing the space between their bodies. "It is true; I blame you." Silence followed her words as she wrapped her knees around his waist and placed her head on his bare back. "But it is only because I love you so much," she whispered warmly against his back, her fingers tracing the muscles that ripped his chest. "So much, I loathe this impending distance."
He took her hand and kissed it. "I'm sorry. I let my anger and jealousy over a nonexistent relationship between you and the duke drive me to a ridiculous engagement. I'm a fool! Surely I should have known you were only his mother's companion!"
"It is too late for regrets now, Noah. I shall wait." She pressed her cheek to his back. "I shall wait until the announcement is made and the rest of the world is privileged with the information of our marriage. But you must promise to never forget that their ignorance changes nothing; you're still my husband."
He turned fully to her then, pulling her forward until she was settling on his lap. Leaning down, he kissed her lips. "And you're my wife."
She returned his kiss, trembling with ecstasy as he claimed her as his wife again that evening; his grip possessive, yet gentle; his scent overpowering, yet intoxicating; his kisses sweet, only souring at the thought of being apart from him for a while.
A few weeks, she reminded herself as he pulled her down on top of him and held her firmly in his arms. A few weeks before she would be in his arms again. Surely she could survive a few weeks without him...
*
Noah sat in a chaise across from Lord Hawkins, staring into the older gentleman's unblinking gray eyes, that was reddened by his unspoken rage. It was clear from the frown that creased Lord Hawkins' face that Lady Penelope had indeed kept to her word to relay the news of their broken engagement to her father, and from the way he clung to his glass of scotch, Noah knew he was fighting the urge to hurl it across the room at him.
"Whose decision was this?" Lord Hawkins spoke for the first time that evening.
"Mine!" Penelope answered, causing the words to die on Noah's lips. He turned to her, shocked. But she kept her head down and her hands clasped on her knees.
"Is that so, Camden?" He arched a bushy brow.
Noah thought of telling the truth, but he decided against it. He didn't wish for Lady Penelope to appear as a liar before her father. "Indeed, my lord."
He heaved a loud breath, the frown on his face easing as he relaxed back against his chair. "Then this conversation is of no consequence," he said, raising his glass to his lips and taking a sip.
"What do you mean?" It appeared to Noah that he was taking the news quite well—too well.
"A date shall be decided upon."
"Of course. We must decide on the perfect time to break the news of our broken engagement to the rest of the world. While I dread it—"
"—I was speaking about a date for the wedding. I suggest it's done before the end of the month." He smiled.
"What?!" Stunned, he sat gawking at the older man. Did he not just hear what was said?
"I do not wish to marry him, Father," Penelope called.
"Nor do I wish for your input," Lord Hawkins remarked, not bothering to spare her a glance. He instead kept his gaze on Noah, a broad smile plastered on his face. Yet, Noah could tell from the bulging muscle in the man's jaw that he was gritting his teeth; fighting his rage.
Lady Penelope sprang to her feet, anger creasing her brows as she fisted her fingers. "I shall not be forced into a marriage I do not wish for! You shall not force me into this; you shall not ruin my life—not again, Father!"
His anger won over, propelling him to his feet as he turned to face his daughter. "You ruined your own life when you decided to go against my wishes!" he barked, causing Penelope to shrink back.
Deciding he had seen enough, Noah rose to his feet as well. "It was my decision," he confessed, drawing the attention of the room to himself. He would take responsibility for his own stupidity. "It was a mistake to ask her to marry me in the first place, and I'm sorry. I shall not let Lady Penelope be blamed for something I did."
His gray mustache swallowed his lips as he stared at Noah. "You mustn't—"
"Please, my lord. Allow me to compensate you for your troubles, and when an announcement is made, I shall take full responsibility for this."
Silence filled the room, one that caused Noah to tremble slightly with shame. He blamed himself for the pain he saw in the older man's eyes—he blamed himself for the shame Lady Penelope was going to bear the second the news got out.
Perhaps he should never have asked for her hand in marriage. What was worse than his proposal was his decision to call it off, and while he regretted his action, he knew there was nothing to be done about it; the past was in the past and his marriage to Bea barred him from further marriage to another woman.
"I—" Noah began.
"It is enough!" He raised a hand, silencing Noah. "I have seen enough." He turned to Lady Penelope, who shrank back the second his gaze settled on her once more. "Pack your bags. You leave for France tomorrow. You shall live as you please, and I shall bear no part in your shame."
Turning around, he made his way out of the room. Noah watched him disappear through the doors before turning back to Lady Penelope.
"My lady—" he began, but she shook her head, silencing him as she collapsed into her seat.
"It is as it was fated to be. It is a small price to pay for what I did," she whimpered, tears streaming down her face.
"I shall speak to your father," he said, trying to ease her pain.
"Your speech shall prove useless."
"It is my fault; I shall fix it as best as I can," he tried again, desperate.
"This is not about you, my lord. It has nothing to do with you."
"I'm the one who broke off our engagement." He touched her arm.
"And I'm the one who fornicated with a married man," she hissed, shrugging him off.
"What?!" he gasped, stunned.
She nodded. "Banishment to France shall be a small price to pay for my many sins against God, against Father," she raised her teary gaze to him, "and against your beloved, Lady Atkins."