Flirting with His Forbidden Lady--A Regency Family is Reunited by Laura Martin (good novels to read txt) 📕

take their stares. It made me feel uncomfortable, but I did what you always say. I squared my shoulders and straightened my back and pretended I was walking a little taller.’ She broke off and fresh tears were accompanied by a little sob. ‘But then we were surrounded by that group of men. They were drunk, they stank of stale beer, and I knew they were trouble as soon as the first one began to approach.’

Beth squeezed her sister’s hand and then leaned in and hugged her, trying to convey all the love she felt for Annabelle in one embrace.

‘You heard what they said.’

Silently Beth nodded. It had been unnecessarily cruel. Unprovoked. Beth knew people could be that horrible, but in her sheltered life she hadn’t often come across it.

‘There was nothing to draw their attention?’

‘No. Nothing. They just saw me, saw my face, and it disgusted them so much they decided they just had to say something.’

‘Oh, Annabelle.’

‘I’m never leaving the house again. Never ever. I’m staying right here in this room where my horrific face can’t revolt anyone.’

‘Don’t—’

‘You don’t understand, Beth. Of course, you don’t understand. Look at you, you’re beautiful. People look at you and smile. They look at me and...’ She broke off and buried her face in the pillow.

Beth knew she had to let her sister cry her tears to work through the hurt and anger at being treated so badly, but she wanted to shake her, to tell her that appearance didn’t matter, that Annabelle was sweet and kind and wonderful, but she kept her mouth closed. It was fine to think appearance didn’t matter when people didn’t point and stare at you in the street. Annabelle was entitled to her hurt. And in a way she was right. Beth didn’t doubt that her blonde hair, clear blue eyes and sweet smile conferred certain unseen advantages. People treated attractive people in different ways, better ways.

‘I love you,’ she whispered into Annabelle’s hair.

‘I don’t want to ever leave this house again,’ Annabelle repeated quietly, and Beth heard the resolve in her voice alongside the sadness.

Pushing away the thought of what that meant for her, Beth concentrated on trying to comfort her sister, all the while knowing her whole world had shifted again.

‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured quietly, repeating it again and again. Her own tears mingled in with Annabelle’s on the bedclothes as she felt the weight of responsibility for Annabelle’s pain, mixed with the familiar recriminations. If only she’d watched her sister better, if only she hadn’t been so selfish and engrossed in her play, if only she had seen the vase, if only...

Beth crept silently from the bedroom, closing the door behind her. Finally Annabelle had settled, at first dropping off into a fitful doze but now she was in a deeper sleep, her arm thrown across her forehead and legs curled to one side.

In the hallway she paused, not knowing whether to go straight to see Josh or whether to get her thoughts straight first. He had this way of persuading her things would work out all right and she needed to be firm to make sure she did the right thing.

Instead of heading over to the part of the house with the guest bedrooms she slipped downstairs in the darkness. It was late, perhaps eleven, and the neglected house guests had long since retired. Beth supposed her mother had hosted the dinner that evening. After popping her head around the door to check Annabelle was being comforted, Lady Hummingford had disappeared and must have been seeing to the other guests. It had always fallen to Beth to comfort her sister whenever she became upset. Their mother wasn’t the maternal or openly affectionate type and so the sisters had always turned to one another if they needed a hug or kind words.

At the end of the hall Beth made her way down the narrow servants’ staircase to the kitchen below and took the key from the hook that opened the door. It was a matter of seconds before she was standing in the cool evening air, having turned the key in the lock behind her.

She moved quickly, cursing herself for failing to bring a shawl or cloak. The days were mild but it was still only May and at past eleven there was a definite chill in the air. Rather than go back for something to cover her shoulders, Beth picked up her skirts and ran across the grass, hoping the burst of activity would warm her from the inside. Above her the moon was shining, almost full, seeming to guide her to the cliffs beyond the estate. She had a hankering to see the sea, to feel the salty wind on her face, to be far enough away from anyone else that they wouldn’t hear her scream and rail and cry at the unfairness of it all.

The paths were familiar even in the darkness and she never once missed a step, but Beth had grown up knowing how dangerous the cliffs could be. A stumble too close to the edge and you would plummet down to the rocks below. Even without missing a step sometimes chunks of the crumbly chalk would just give way, and you only had to be standing at the wrong place at the wrong time. It meant she always stayed back from the edge, choosing paths a few feet from the drop as she climbed the steep hill.

Only once she was at the top did she stop, inhaling great gasps of air as she tried to catch her breath. It was about a mile from Birling View to where she was standing now, a mile uphill she had run without stopping. Still, even though her chest burned and her heart was hammering in her chest she felt the same freedom she always did up here.

After a minute Beth let herself sink down to the ground and as she sat there was a wave of emotion and she