Chapter 8 - Midnight Tea and Broken Walls
The transition of the estate was swift and thorough. Within a week, the remaining staff members who had been loyal to Victoria were quietly paid off and dismissed, replaced by vetted professionals who treated Beatrice with the deep, unspoken respect due to the new mistress of the household—even if no one had officially put a title to it yet.
Late one night, long after Lily had fallen asleep upstairs, Beatrice found herself sitting at the massive mahogany kitchen island, going over grocery lists and educational supply catalogs for the private tutor Leo had hired to supplement her homeschooling.
A shadow fell across the counter.
She looked up. Leo stood there holding two mugs of steaming chamomile tea, the rich scent of honey floating between them.
“You’re working too late,” Leo said, setting a mug down in front of her before taking the stool opposite her.
“Someone has to make sure Lily’s art supplies don't include toxic markers,” Beatrice smiled, taking a small sip of the tea. It was warm, sweet, and soothing against her throat. “Besides, I’m not used to having free time. In my last job, I was scrubbing baseboards until midnight.”
“That ends now,” Leo said firmly. He rested his elbows on the counter, his dark eyes fixed on her with intense focus. “I want you to focus on Lily, and on yourself. If there are books you want, classes you want to take, places you want to go... name them.”
Beatrice lowered her mug, her expression turning serious. “Why are you doing this, Leo? Really. I’m just a maid from Indiana who happened to be in the right place at the wrong time.”
“You were in the wrong place at the right time,” Leo corrected softly. He reached across the marble counter, his large, warm fingers gently brushing against the back of her hand where the skin was still slightly bruised from the cellar door. “For two years, this house was a mausoleum. I surrounded myself with bodyguards, politicians, and socialites who only cared about what my name could buy them. I forgot what human warmth felt like.”
Beatrice’s breath hitched. The touch of his hand sent a sudden, electric shiver up her arm—not of fear, but of a long-dormant longing she had locked away after her marriage dissolved into ash.
“I’m not a socialite, Leo,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the refrigerator. “I’m clumsy. I’m loud when I laugh. I don’t fit in your world.”
“My world is violent, cold, and exhausting,” Leo replied, his thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles. “You don't fit into it, Beatrice. You’re the only real thing in it.”
Before either of them could pull away or lean closer, a soft pattering of footsteps echoed down the hallway.
Lily appeared around the corner, rubbing her eyes, dragging her stuffed rabbit behind her.
“Bee?” the little girl mumbled sleepily. “I had a bad dream.”
Beatrice immediately pulled her hand away from Leo’s, though a soft, affectionate smile broke across her face. She slid off her stool and knelt down, opening her arms.
May you like
“I’m right here, sweet girl,” Beatrice murmured, scooping Lily up into her arms. “Come on. Let’s go back to bed.”
Leo watched them walk toward the stairs, a profound, unshakable peace settling over his chest for the first time in his life.
