Moving closer, Eleanor was shocked to realize that the viscountess's face was wet with tears.
“Dearest Aunt,” she murmured in alarm, “what is the matter? Are you ill?”
Beatrix gave a shuddering sob yet shook her head.
Greatly concerned, Eleanor sat beside her on the bed and took her hand. “Please tell me, what is wrong?”
“I am not ill,” she replied, her voice quavering. “It is just that I have been such a fool. To think I actually entertained the notion of marrying that villain.”
Eleanor gazed down at her in sympathy, comprehending why she was so distressed. “You could not have known about Signor Vecchi's machinations, Aunt. He deceived us all.”
“But I was eager to think the best of him.” Bea trix's lower lip trembled. “That is what rankles the most, knowing how blind I was to his true character. He was so distinguished, so courteous. He paid me such pretty compliments…”
Her voice breaking then, she buried her face in her pillow and gave way to sobs.
Eleanor felt her aunt's anguish, her vulnerability. The imperious Lady Beldon had always seemed indomitable, invincible, but now she seemed heartbroken.
When Beatrix continued weeping, Eleanor rubbed her shoulder soothingly, trying to console her.
It was quite some time, however, before her sobs quieted to mere sniffles.
“Look at me, carrying on this way,” she finally muttered in a disgusted voice.
“I understand perfectly how you feel,” Eleanor murmured. “Men can cause a great deal of pain.”
“Indeed,” her ladyship agreed before wiping inelegantly at her nose. “But it is more than that. I was lured by Umberto's charming manner, in part because he was so different from my late husband. Beldon was such a stick-in-the-mud by comparison. I let myself be bowled over by that blackguard's charisma as much as his Italian flourishes.” She held her niece's gaze. “I felt lovely and alive, Eleanor. For the first time in memory, I felt as if I were a real woman and not merely a gentlewoman. But I am not the first person to be taken in by the promise of an exciting lover.”
Eleanor's heart hurt at that bruised look in her aunt's eyes. “I feel wretched myself, dear Aunt. I was the one who encouraged you to entertain the notion of a romance with Signor Vecchi. I thought it would make you happy.”
Beatrix sniffed. “I am far from happy-I am utterly miserable. But you certainly are not to blame.”
Eleanor wa
s not so certain. “You would never have been thrown into his company so often had you not wanted to advance my matrimonial prospects with Prince Lazzara.”
“True, but it is my duty as your aunt and guardian to see you well-married.” Curiously, Beatrix's aristocrat features softened as she gazed up at Eleanor. “I do not wish to make you feel indebted, dear girl. You mean much more to me than duty.”
Her voice lowered even further. “I never wanted children of my own, Eleanor, and in truth, I was appalled when I was suddenly handed the responsibility of raising you. You always were such a lively, rambunctious child. But my scoldings and insistence on proper behavior never dampened your spirit, and in time I came to cherish that quality about you. I am grateful you came into my life, Eleanor. I know I have never told you how precious you are to me, how much joy you have given me these many years. And I may not show it often. But I love you dearly.”
Her aunt's humble, heartfelt admission brought tears to Eleanor's eyes. In her own exacting way, Beatrix's love was deep and abiding. “I know, darling Aunt. And I love you dearly as well.”
Beatrix dashed angrily at her damp eyes. “I suppose that was partly why I was so eager to bestow my affections on Umberto. I realized that when you married, I would be alone. I will miss you greatly, Elea nor, when you leave me to live with Wrexham.”
“I will never leave you entirely, Aunt.” “Yes, but you belong with him. You were meant to be together, as much as it galls me to admit it.” Beatrix grimaced. “I abhorred what Wrexham did to you two years ago, causing a scandal and nearly ruining your reputation. But I cannot deny how he affects you-it is the same way Umberto affected me. You come even more alive in Wrexham's presence. There is a special glow about you that makes you even more beautiful. You love him, do you not?”
“Yes, I do, Aunt,” Eleanor admitted. “Very much.” She nodded sagely. “I can see it in your eyes every time you look at him.”
Eleanor dredged up a humorless smile. “Are my feelings for him so obvious?”
“I fear so. It was evident from the very first.” Beatrix hesitated. “Honestly, my dear, that is a prime reason I insisted on your marriage to Wrexham this time. If you had truly despised him, I would never have insisted that you wed him. We would have weathered the scandal together, no matter how painful.”
Eleanor's throat tightened at this proof of her aunt's love.
“I realize,” Beatrix added slowly, “that I counseled you to ignore Wrexham's inamoratas, but I believe I was wrong. You should not settle for less than his full devotion.”
She swallowed. “I don't intend to.” “You cannot permit him to break your heart.” “I won't,” Eleanor promised with more conviction than she felt.
Beatrix searched her features intently. “I know there is serious trouble between you, my dear. You should go to Wrexham at once and attempt to make him see reason.”