And he winked.
Her heart jumped in her breast, and she turned away. She did not want him to look at her for too long. She had the fear that he might be able to suss out that she was up to something, and the last thing she needed was to be caught out by Briggs.
She nearly fainted from relief when she saw James arrive. He was wearing a smart grey coat with a blue waistcoat, the effect overall much softer compared to Briggs’s much more severe attire.
He was sweet and handsome, angelically so. With blonde hair that curled at the base of his neck, and pale blue eyes.
She did not feel... What she did not feel was as if a magnet drew her to him. As if she could not look away from him. She felt comforted by him.
Friendship.
Theirs was a deep and real friendship. One that—were it known about by the ton—would see her ruined anyway as she had been alone with him without a chaperon before. Now they would simply need to court public ruin.
In the absence of her brother’s blessing, she would have to force his hand. Because he hated scandal above all else. Which meant... She would have to create one.
And he would never see it coming, because he did not believe her capable.
James came to her, a second glass of punch in his hand.
‘Are you thirsty?’ He handed it to her.
She appreciated it. The care it demonstrated. He was like that. He was kind.
‘Thank you,’ she said.
‘Have you devised a scheme for the evening?’
‘I have to figure out where I think we might be seen and by whom. Logic indicates that it should be Hugh who catches us out.’
‘I see. And are we to simply wait in his bedchamber?’
For some reason those words made her stomach tighten. ‘His bedchamber? I do not think we need a bedchamber.’
The look on James’s face was almost...pitying. ‘Perhaps you’re right.’
‘A lady can be ruined by walking along the wrong garden path,’ Beatrice pointed out. ‘I could have been ruined long ago if it was known I went calling at your residence and took tea in your drawing room without the presence of a chaperon.’
‘I rather think that for the scheme you’re devising there was going to have to be a measure more than walking involved. Or taking tea. There can be no doubt as to what is being witnessed.’ He looked down. ‘I fear your brother enough to know he must think the only option is for us to marry, lest I find myself called to account, and on the wrong end of his pistol.’
She looked up at him, feeling helpless. Because she did not know what he was alluding to.
She was... She was terribly sheltered. And she had seen pictures in some of the books left in the library that depicted nude nymphs running away from male suitors, and it always made her feel uncomfortable. For some reason, those images came back to her now, and she had a feeling... Well, she had always had a feeling that something to do with those images related to ruin. It was only she could not connect them.
‘I should like... I...’
He smiled, and it was kind. ‘I do not wish to force you into anything, Beatrice. Please, if you wish to turn back, it will never be too late.’
‘This is for you as well,’ she said. ‘You also must feel...you also must have the life you desire, James. And I care for you. If I could help you, I wish to.’
And she might never be able to understand exactly why he didn’t want a real marriage. And perhaps the two of them would be giving up certain things. But they would have friendship. And all the freedom marriage afforded.
And she... She had felt for him. Because while he was a man, he was a second son, and he did not have anywhere near the power that her brother had in his position in society. He was facing enormous pressure from his family, and it was a pressure he did not want. Beatrice didn’t have to have experienced the exact same thing to understand what it was to be presented with a life you did not want to live.
‘I know,’ she said. ‘I know what to do. It would be best to have the largest audience as possible, while seeming to believably seek isolation. I know where to go. We will be found, not only by my brother, but by his associates.’ Briggs would be among them. The very idea made her skin feel scorched. Shame. She felt a deep sense of shame.
‘He often retires to his library at some point during an evening such as this,’ she continued. ‘If we could contrive to be in present...and...’
‘We should only have to be locked in an embrace,’ James said. ‘That should be enough.’