Page 11 of The Beast's Bet

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She nodded, her face hardening. “I cannot linger, but I thank you for your warning. I shall do my best to look out for the men you speak of.”

“Yes,” he said, relief hitting him. He wished there was more he could do. But did he dare to involve himself in Lady Elizabeth’s life?

“Why are you out here alone?” he asked softly.

“Because,” she confessed. “I needed a moment away from the clamoring noise of it all. Of the pressure of it, of the need to be seen, to be so…”

“Perfect,” he put in.

She smiled sadly. “Yes. Now I must go back. For if my father finds that I am not easily within reach, he shall be very angry indeed.”

“Is he an angry person, your father?” he asked.

The mask slipped back over her face as if she couldn’t bear to reveal all her secrets. “Yes,” she said. “It is upon him that I have sharpened the edge of my perfection. He would tolerate nothing less, you see. And he certainly will not tolerate me being ruined.”

She was quiet for a moment before saying flatly, “He would rather see me dead, I think.”

Those words chilled him to his bone, for they were said without any exaggeration or drama. “Then you are in a great deal of trouble, Lady Elizabeth.”

“I am in no trouble at all,” she said, “I know what I need. And nothing shall stop me from attaining it.”

“And what is that?” he queried, truly curious.

“Freedom,” she said firmly.

“You will never find it in the room next door,” he warned.

“Will I not?” She demanded her brows rising.

“Oh no. For none of them know how to appreciate a woman who is free,” he informed, shocked that he was daring to lay so many truths at her feet. “They will all shackle you, Lady Elizabeth. Every single one of them. For you are but one thing to them, a means to an end, an heir, a title, a fortune. A vessel.”

“And you,” she challenged. “Do you not have any impossible desires?”

“My only desire,” he said, “is to savor what I desire in the moment. You see, I learned long ago, this life can end at any moment for me. Best live now.”

“You live on such an edge?” She marveled.

He took a step forward, bent his head down, and gently said, “Lady Elizabeth, we all live on such an edge and anyone who does not think so is deluding themselves. Our lives, as Shakespeare said, are but a brief candle and they can be snuffed out quite quickly.”

And then… then, he did something he had not intended.

Gently, he lifted his hand and stroked a perfect curl behind her ear, then slipped his fingers to her chin. “Now you take care. I’ve given a warning. Be wary and be very careful with whom you choose to wed.” He paused gazing down into her eyes, feeling as if he could lose himself in her depths. “I would not like to see you shackled, though I do not see how you can avoid it. Now, if you ever need me, seek out Tom Courtney. Any hackney will know my name and exactly where to take you. Do you understand?”

She stared up at him transfixed, but with his last words, she gave the barest of nods. “I understand.”

He gave her a bow then, turned in the shadows, and slipped back out into the moonlight, a place to which he was accustomed.

And as he felt her stare upon his back, he found himself longing for the most irrational thing.

That he could have gone into that ballroom with her, that he could have taken her into his arms and swept her down the floor in a waltz. He wished he could have seen the brittle nature of her perfection vanish as the soft warm power of herself came to the surface in his arms.

But such a thing would never be. For he was not for the ladies of the ton and she certainly would never want a man like him.

Not Tom Courtney of the East End, of the gutter and the salons.

Chapter 4

“Where the bloody hell did you go?” The voice slithered into her ear. The familiar condemnation laced through her blood.


Tags: Eva Devon Historical