A Dark Beauty (Victorian Retellings Book 1) by Clarissa Kae

Author:Clarissa Kae [Kae, Clarissa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781735168388
Publisher: Carpe Vitam Press
Published: 2021-03-07T05:00:00+00:00

15

Dominic Pichon

Haltwhistle

The morning sun peeked above the horizon, welcoming the day. Dom wished it’d bring more than warmth. He needed patience, and his companion needed hope. Not that he cared. His stomach twisted. His body didn’t agree with his idea of not caring.

Miss de Beaumont and Dom had taken the train to the northern tip of Wales and stopped at his usual inn. He’d taken to heart his cousin’s warning. She believed the de Beaumont family was being targeted even if she didn’t know who was behind Lucien’s fear. She’d placed a man outside their townhome and, true to Lucien’s word, the place was ransacked.

Alone in her committee room—not even a guard to witness—Dom and Victoria promised each other that no one would know of Miss de Beaumont’s promise. They didn’t know who they could trust. Miss de Beaumont would reside in secret at Chyrk, Dom’s castle on the Welsh border. Not even her father would know where she was.

In her desperation, Miss de Beaumont had unwittingly provided the perfect solution. She offered herself in place of her father while Lucien worked on the exhibition. Both de Beaumonts would be under careful watch. Victoria had a soft spot for the family. Dom blamed the queen’s tendre on her pregnancy. She wanted to believe in the best of her fellow countrymen, but some people were beyond repair.

Dom had watched both de Beaumonts—questioned them both. Lucien had been stoic instead of caring, while his daughter had been passionate about Lucien’s innocence. Dom wouldn’t confess to Victoria—only to himself—that Miss de Beaumont’s stubborn belief in her father was her Achilles’ heel. If they were indeed victims of some conspiracy, the woman would be easy to manipulate. Miss de Beaumont would do anything for her father. And Lucien would allow her.

Even now, Miss de Beaumont was curled into the corner of the carriage. She was exhausted from defending her father’s innocence. She closed her eyes, her hands relaxing in her lap. She shifted, her right arm pulling on the sleeve of her left arm. A scar peeked at him, drawing his attention.

He leaned over. She moved again. The lip of the glove slipped, revealing a webbing of burn scars. A lump formed in his throat. Miss de Beaumont was burned. Impossible. She shifted and folded her arms, her sleeve riding up—the scars ran along the entire exposed skin.

He sat back, his mind reeling. He untied his cravat, the carriage far too warm. Burned. He shook the thought, but his gaze kept drifting to her skin. He sat there, his resolve dissipating.

Dom unlatched his bench and grabbed a blanket from underneath. He tucked the ends around her, his pulse racing. Miss de Beaumont had been burned—the thought echoed over and over again in his mind.

On the train she’d huffed and puffed, throwing barbs the entire journey. She was furious at how Lucien was taken into custody. And even moreso when Dom had paid men to stand outside her door at the inn last night. She would have completely lost her head if she’d discovered the man posted below her window.

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