Secrets of an Accidental Duchess by Jennifer Haymore Page B

marriage did you have before you chose Lord Fenwicke?”
    “Six,” Beatrice said. “But Papa said I must choose Lord Fenwicke because he will be a duke someday.”
    “See? If you were ugly, you wouldn’t have received six offers, believe me!”
    Beatrice smiled a little, but then her lips quivered. “But I wasn’t fat then.”
    Jessica shook her head. “I’ve never known you at any other size, Beatrice. I’ve never thought you were fat, and I’ve always thought you utterly lovely.”
    “Really?”
    “Yes.”
    “Promise?”
    “Yes. I promise.”
    Beatrice’s smile grew a little stronger. “Thank you,” she whispered. “You’re such a good friend.”
    Jessica took her hand and squeezed. “You’re welcome. But I’m not saying that just to make you feel better. I’m saying it because it’s true. Now… do you know when your husband will return to Brockton Hall?”
    Beatrice shook her head. “He never informs me in advance before he arrives. I never know he’s coming until he pulls up in the drive. And… now…” She took a shaky breath. “I fear I must be home the next time he comes. What if he were to arrive and look for me while I was at Stratford House? He’d be so angry with me.”
    “That’s all right,” Jessica said quickly. “You know we wouldn’t abandon you, don’t you? I’ll come visit you here. So will my sisters.”
    Beatrice smiled.
    “But… you could leave him, you know,” Jessica said quietly.
    Beatrice’s eyes widened. “Jessica, are you mad? I couldn’t leave him!”
    “Why not?”
    “He is my husband!”
    “He is a bully and an abuser of ladies. He doesn’t deserve you.”
    “But I couldn’t. My family would be so ashamed…”
    “It’s not your fault!”
    “But I would be dishonored. Embarrassed…”
    “Nonsense. The only one who would be embarrassed is him.”
    Suddenly, Beatrice grabbed both of Jessica’s hands with her own. “Oh, Jessica, you won’t tell anyone, will you? Please promise me you won’t tell anyone. If you do… oh God, please, Jessica…” She began to sob again.
    Jessica blinked at her. She hadn’t even considered keeping this information from her family. She usually told her sisters everything.
    “You don’t wish for me to tell my sisters? But, Beatrice, they’ll help you.”
    Beatrice closed her eyes and moaned, twin tears trickling down her cheeks. “I don’t think I could bear the shame. Please…”
    “Very well,” Jessica said soothingly. “I won’t tell them until you give me leave to.”
    “Thank you.” Raising Jessica’s hand, Beatrice pressed it to her cheek.
    “Well then…” Jessica took a deep breath. “Let’s speak of a happier topic, shall we?” She reached for her reticule. “I brought you some recipes.”
    She laid out the pieces of paper and listened to Beatrice expound over ingredients and measurements, but the whole time, her mind was working hard.
    Jessica Donovan wasn’t going to allow any friend of hers to be beaten. She simply wasn’t going to allow it.
    Max could hardly believe November was half over. Time had flown since he’d kissed Olivia beneath the outcropping on that rainy afternoon. They’d spent many afternoons together since then: reading in the library, talking in the drawing room, playing tennis when the weather permitted, though that was rare these days. But he hadn’t kissed her again. Not for lack of desire to feel her sweet lips against his. He just hadn’t been alone with her since that day. If he had been alone with her, he doubted he would have been able to keep his hands off her.
    He strode into the breakfast room. For the first time since his arrival at Stratford House, none of the ladies were sitting down and drinking their chocolate. Instead, Stratford was in the room. He was prowling along the sideboard as if unable to decide what to choose for his breakfast, and Langley was speaking to him in low, urgent tones.
    “Is something the matter?” Max asked when they