The Maiden Bride by Rexanne Becnel Page B

ago, and soon after, his beloved wife. After that everything had been for Maynard. He had never loved Beatrix as much as his mother did, nor had he despised Linnea as strongly. And now, when the greatest drama of his daughters’ lives was being played out, his primary reaction was disinterest.
    Lady Harriet’s searching glare went back and forth between the twins again, then settled on the real Beatrix. “Which one are you?” she demanded to know. “You look to be Linnea, but—”
    Again she broke off. With a swift yank she jerked up the plain gown Beatrix wore, so that her legs were exposed. Then she let out a guttural cry and whirled to face Linnea.
    “You!” She jerked up Linnea’s dress—Beatrix’s dress it was, but draping Linnea’s legs. She grabbed Linnea’s ankle and twisted the leg without any regard for her granddaughter’s pain. “You devil!” she screamed when she spied the red birthmark on Linnea’s leg, the only mark that distinguished the two from one another. “How dare you deceive me! How dare you pretend to be your sister!”
    She swung her hand, but the brutal slap did not find its target, for Beatrix grabbed her grandmother’s arm before it could, and hung on like a terrier. “She did it for me! To protect me! You cannot in good conscience punish her for that!”
    “She had no right to pretend to be you—to trick us all. Agh! She says it is to protect you but I know better. She is filled with deception, that one. Now unhand me,” she finished, glaring at Beatrix with the vicious expression more normally reserved for Linnea.
    “You do her a grave disservice, Grandmother.”
    “And you have ever been too forgiving of her!”
    Linnea did not know what to do. Beatrix had always shown her love and support in quiet ways, helping Linnea with a chore, sneaking a sweet treat to her—but when their grandmother was not in sight, of course. This overt opposition, however, was something new. Linnea did not know whether to be pleased for herself or worried for Beatrix.
    “She has corrupted you,” Lady Harriet fumed. She turned to her son, her face livid with her anger. “She has corrupted Beatrix! I told you this would happen, witless man! I warned you that she would one day cause the downfall of this family!”
    “There was no harm done,” Sir Edgar said in the placating tone he so often adopted with his mother.
    “No harm? No harm? What of your son? Did she do him no harm? Do you truly expect him to recover—”
    “You said she did well,” Beatrix countered. “When you thought she was me, you said she’d done well with Maynard—”
    A sharp slap from Lady Harriet cut off Beatrix’s words. In the awful silence that followed, Linnea finally found her tongue.
    “Do not punish her. It was my idea and … and I thought only to protect her from the horror of our brother’s suffering.”
    Lady Harriet turned toward her as if to slap her too. But Linnea stood her ground, her fists clenched in determination. “I healed Maynard, as well as anyone could, given the brutality inflicted upon him by de la Manse. I saved him,” she added, with a confidence she did not feel. “And … and if you would keep Beatrix from this dreadful man who has overrun us, well … I can save her from him too.”
    Linnea hesitated. She must be mad to suggest such a thing! Yet to protect her beloved twin sister—and to earn the gratitude and appreciation of her grandmother and father, and all the beleaguered souls of Maidenstone Castle—she would do anything, she realized. Anything.
    “Let me wed him—as Beatrix. It will weaken his claim to Maidenstone—”
    “No, Linnea!” Beatrix cried. She grabbed her sister’s arms and swung her around to face her. “I cannot allow you to do such a thing.”
    “Be quiet, Beatrix.” Lady Harriet pushed Beatrix back from Linnea, then stared at her younger granddaughter with eyes that had narrowed to slits. “You would marry this man who invades our home. Why?”