Chapter Thirty Four

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Noah didn't think, neither of Beatrice's words, nor of the implications of them. He could do nothing but hold his wife in his arms as her tears wetted his shirt; he could do nothing but fight to keep her from falling apart.

The sounds of her broken sobs tore his heart to pieces for several minutes, until she was exhausted and collapsed against him. He was quick; sweeping her off her feet and carrying her in his arms before she crumbled to the floor. He took her up the stairs to her bedchamber—her rightful bedchamber, the one reserved for the Marchioness of Camden, not caring about the implications of his actions; the fact that it would announce their marriage to his household and, inevitably, the rest of England.

Crossing the large room with her, he placed her on the bed and pulled the bellpull, summoning a servant.

A soft knock followed his action a mere second later. No doubt the servants had been lurking in the corners the whole time, hoping to make sense of what was happening. He had simply been too focused on Bea to notice.

"Enter," he gave the command. The door pushed open to reveal a brunette maid.

Once he had instructed the maid of what he needed to treat Bea's injuries, he sat by Bea's side and cleaned her wounds himself. They were mostly artificial, he sighed, relieved. A cut to her lip and one to her forehead. He helped her out of her bloody nightdress into his clean nightshirt and covered her with the sheets.

"Rest," he instructed, sweeping her hair off of her face as he rose to his feet.

Haunted green and blue eyes stared back at him as she shook her head. "I can't. I shall never rest after what I did. Oh, Noah, but I had no choice! He was going to hurt me, to force me into marrying Lord Curtis..." she rambled on, further confusing him.

Settling on the bed once more, he took her hand in his and stroked it. "Calm down, my love," he kissed her knuckles to ease her unrest, "whatever happened was not your fault. You must rest tonight and tomorrow, I shall find out what happened."

"No!" She shook her head, clutching his hand. "Go right now! Yes, go in search of him. Perhaps he's indeed alive? Oh, but I killed him!" she cried, bowing her head, her shoulders trembling as she wept.

He gathered her broken form in his arms. "Do not cry, my love. I beg you. I shall do as you wish, but I'm still trying to make sense of the situation, and you're too disheveled to help me make sense of it."

Shaking her head violently, she pulled away. "My father, he attacked me tonight. I was... well, I quit my job working for Her Grace and went back home. I was alone. I couldn't have imagined my father would attack me there. I should never have gone back, but how could I have known he would show up and try to force me to marry Lord Curtis?!"

"Marriage?!" he asked, stunned.

"I was as shocked as you are. I tried to tell him I was already married to you and couldn't possibly marry another gentleman."

Noah nodded. "Indeed, it is impossible."

"And perhaps we were not already married, I couldn't stand the idea of being Lord Curtis' wife. I told him as much, but he called me a liar. He held my neck and threatened to snap it in two."

Realization sank in and, with it, a maddening rage. "Like he did a few months ago, when I found you nearly dead at my doorstep. That was your father, wasn't it, Bea? He hurt you—he has always hurt you." His heart pumped so rapidly in his chest, he feared he might suffer a heart attack.

"He would have killed me, but for the poker. I plunged it into his heart. It was the only way."

Bea was hysterical by the time she was done recounting the events of that evening, and Noah was insanely furious. He released Bea long enough to ring for a maid once again, and after he had ordered for some tea and laudanum, he waited until the medication had taken effect and Bea was asleep, before storming out of the house.

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