Bound To Bea

Chapter Thirty Eight

With Noah away in London and Beatrice trapped in her bedchamber, Catherine found it nearly impossible not to turn on her heels and return to her home in the country. She was bored and devastatingly homesick. She had found that bullying Beatrice helped take her mind off of her desire to return home, but with Beatrice locked away in her room lately, Catherine could find no adequate distraction from her homesickness.

And she desperately needed a distraction, for she couldn't leave for the country; not now, when she hadn't accomplished her mission for coming here in the first place. She couldn't leave without getting rid of Beatrice. It was why she had come; to rid her son of the woman who threatened to ruin him.

A small frown pulled on the edges of her brows. She knew women like Beatrice, opportunists who would do anything—everything—to climb the social ladder. Her own husband had been a fool for a woman like that once, and his foolery had produced a bastard. What was worse than his betrayal of their marriage was his plan to divorce her and elope with his mistress. She had found the letter on his desk in his study, a simple note that ripped her heart out of her chest and crushed it: "Forgive me, but I love her."

Devastated, she had replaced the note on his desk. Straightening her spine, she squared her shoulders, lifted her chin and returned to her bedchamber. She didn't dare cry—she couldn't. How could she cry for a man who had ruthlessly desecrated their marriage, a man who chose to abandon her and their son for a mistress?

She fought her emotions all evening until the next morning. When she woke up, her husband was at the breakfast table. He had returned, and the note had disappeared.

Confused, Catherine never worked up the courage to confront him about his planned desertion. She had instead acted like she never saw the note.

Still, she hadn't rested until she found out the reason for his return; he discovered his mistress was a whore who had been entertaining multiple gentlemen. Hurt by her betrayal, he abandoned her and his bastard son.

Her husband might have returned to her, but their marriage had never been the same after that.

Even now, she loathed him for what he did, and it didn't matter that he was dead. It was impossible not to want to spare her son the pain that came with having an unfaithful spouse, and Lady Atkins' questionable character was not news to all of London. Catherine only wondered how Noah had been stupid enough to fall for a woman like that.

Catherine did not trust Beatrice; how could she? A woman who possibly killed her husband to get to his fortune could never be trusted, and Catherine was determined to stay in Camden until she had succeeded in helping Noah see the truth about his wife's nature.

Reaching for the bell, she rang for a maid.

"Yes, my lady?" A young brunette entered the room and curtsied.

"Fetch my coat and scarf, will you? And have the footman ready the carriage. I shall like to go out." She would take a drive to the tea parlor, where she would spend the rest of her evening. Perhaps then it might distract her from her barely deniable desire to return to the country.

The maid frowned. "I beg your pardon, my lady, but I don't suppose any of the parlors are open this time of the year."

"Then I shall simply enjoy a drive through town," she said.

"But—" The maid opened her mouth to protest, but she silenced her with a wave of her hand.

"Hurry now."

"Of course, my lady."

It was several minutes before the maid returned with Catherine's scarf and coat. She made her way out the front door, wrapping her arms around herself as the icy air bit into her flesh. It was snowing and while going for a drive in the snow was a terrible idea; she was desperate for the distraction.