Page 17 of The Beast's Bet

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Tom laughed then shook his head ruefully. “A young woman, yes, but I am not thinking of her for the reason that you are intimating. I met her at a ball and I’m concerned for her well-being.”

“Concerned for a young lady. In what way?” Blackwood asked, his brow furrowed by genuine interest.

“I think she is a prisoner of society.”

“We are all prisoners of society. Ladies are especially so.” Blackwood sighed. “You know it well.”

“Indeed, I do, but this was more,” he protested. “This was as if she was afraid of her father.”

A muscle tightened in Blackwood’s jaw as he contemplated the fire. “It is a great unfortunate truth that most young ladies are afraid of their fathers. Theyhaveto be. After all, their fathers are the ones they have to please until they find a husband… and then they’re afraid of their husbands.”

(Do you need an indent here?)Blackwood’s face darkened. “I wish it wasn’t true, but it has been thus for centuries. After all, young ladies have no access to fortune, power, land, or houses unless it’s a unique situation or they have the good fortune of a family that guarantees their freedom through some sort of trust. If I have daughters, I certainly shall do that.”

Tom nodded, hating to have to agree. He’d seen it most of his life, the way young ladies were shoved into corners, into positions where they had little freedom. Sometimes he did think that the ladies who had taken up rooms and sold themselves to the highest bidder had more freedom than the ladies of the ton.

Except… it was a very dangerous trade, the ladies who took up rooms near Covent Garden. Often their youth was ended quickly through disease or violence. Then again, as he had learned from the lords and ladies that he met, that was not something that was limited to the demimondaine.

Ladies could meet with violence from their husbands and disease too, since husbands liked to frolic often in the East End bringing home the things that they had found there.

Tom ground his teeth, considering brandy. He refrained. He wanted a cool head.

He was not usually given to darkness anymore. He had done his best to shake off such things and melancholia did not suit him. He cleared his throat and changed the subject. “What the devil brings you here tonight, Blackwood?”

“I found myself in a rather dire situation and needed your company.”

“Indeed,” Tom queried at Blackwood’s melodrama.

“Indeed,” Blackwood lamented as if the death bed was at hand. “I must marry soon.”

Tom arched a brow. “Perhaps you could marry the young lady I’m concerned about and give her freedom.”

“Perhaps,” Blackwood said. “But I doubt it. If her father is thus, I have no wish to be associated with him. Doubtlessly,hewould be delighted to be the father-in-law to a duke, but he would be a great deal to manage.”

“A man of your abilities would handle him with ease, surely,” Tom said, knowing that he couldn’t flatter Blackwood. The duke loathed such things. So, instead he just stated the facts. Blackwoodwasgood at managing difficult people.

The duke hesitated and ventured, “Who is it, if I may ask?”

“The Earl of Greystone.”

“Greystone?” Blackwood ground out before he grimaced. “He’s almost as powerful as I am.”

“An earl?” Tom queried. “How is that possible?”

“Blunt, old boy,” Blackwood said, raising his snifter. “He’s one of the wealthiest peers in the land. I have more land than he does, but he’s not far off. His family has made excellent marriages over the years. It’s very rare for an earl to have so much.”

Blackwood frowned into his drink. “No wonder the daughter is terrified. I’m sure her father is determined that she shall make a marriage that will only increase his family holdings… certainly not lessen it.”

“Yes,” Tom ground out. “And she is the victim of a great deal of conversation, I think. People do like to tear people down who are up high.”

Blackwood’s face tightened. “You’re not mistaken there, but what will you do about it?”

Tom shrugged. “I’ve already done what I can. I warned her and that is enough.”

“You warned her,” Blackwood demanded. “What the devil are you talking about?”

Tom didn’t hesitate in his explanation. “I met her at a ball and I warned her that she was the subject of a great deal of envy. And that there are men who might not wish her well.”

Blackwood gaped. “My God, Tom, you are bold as brass.”


Tags: Eva Devon Historical