Because she had this idea in the carriage, and it was now being voiced by another person, Beatrice felt slightly better though there were a thousand little details to remember. What if she tricked Mr. Grayson into marrying her, like Lord Ivanry wanted, and ended up in a loveless marriage? Or worse still, Mr. Grayson gave up the game before marriage could be proposed, and Penelope was forced to endure their licentious guardian forever while Beatrice was ruined?
“Thank you, Minnie; that is a wise decision,” Beatrice sighed, standing to embrace her friend. “I will sleep on it and shall let you know what I think is right tomorrow morning.”
“You are strong,” Minnie replied, cupping Beatrice’s face in her hands, “You will do what is right; I have no doubt of it.” And with that sentiment, she left Beatrice to get lost in her own thoughts again.
Not even an hour later, Beatrice awoke from a fitful sleep to two sets of feet on the stairs outside her chamber door. “Please, I do not need an escort to my chamber, My Lord,” she heard Penelope say, clearly distressed, and Beatrice’s heart leaped as quickly as she did from her sheets. Beatrice hurriedly opened her door just enough to see what was happening and felt bile rising in her throat at the scene before her.
Down the hall, Lord Ivanry was following Penelope to her chamber door, despite her sister’s protestations and quick steps. The vile man chuckled. “I’m simply making sure that my ward makes it safely to her bed. Who knows what sorts of evils lurk in these halls at night.” His tall figure, though lean, was imposing in the low lights lining the hallway, and Beatrice watched her sister shrink beneath his watchful stare.
She almost burst from her chamber to force Lord Ivanry away from Penelope, but Lord Ivanry seemed to have satisfied his desire to torment her sister for the time being. “Don’t worry,” he chuckled stepping away. “I would never do anything to you, dear Penelope, that was not warranted in one way or another. Goodnight.” And then he turned on his heel, barely giving Beatrice enough time to duck behind her door as he passed by, and trotted back down the stairs.
Beatrice peeked out again, ready to comfort her sister, but held fast, as she did not wish to disturb the poor girl who appeared to only desire the safety of her chamber further. She watched with hate burning in her heart as tears began to drip down Penelope’s sweet face, dampening the curls that framed it before her shaking hand twisted the doorknob, and she disappeared from sight.
That distressing scene gave Beatrice all she needed to choose which of the paths she should take regarding Mr. Grayson. She could not bear to see Penelope so miserable and afraid at the hands of Lord Ivanry, so Beatrice decided then and there that she would do her best to trap Mr. Grayson in marriage, regardless of how he felt about her. She strengthened her resolve, allowing the frustration she felt for Lord Ivanry to fuel the fire burning within her to protect her sister.
As Beatrice lay quietly that night, she was haunted by the sounds of her sister’s cries which mixed cacophonously with the sound of Lord Ivanry’s thundering laughter from downstairs.
He is a bastard, Beatrice thought with malice,and one that I shall overcome if only for Penelope’s sake.
CHAPTEREIGHT
The next day, Anthony awoke clutching one of his goose feather pillows. He had been dreaming about taking Miss Beatrice in his arms and reassuring her of what he had said in the library before making passionate, brilliant love to her. And if his present state could explain anything, it meant that Anthony was not just wishing for that dream to come true, but that he desperately wanted to make her know his desires while awake. Wiping the sweat from his brow that had accumulated during his fervid fantasy, Anthony glanced down and saw that he would have to calm himself before he went down to breakfast.
He was disappointed to see that Miss Beatrice had already been seated between Miss Saumon and her older sister for breakfast. Anthony took his place farther down the table and managed to halfway participate in the conversation between himself, Lord Saumon, and the Viscount while keeping his eye on Miss Beatrice. She seemed to be discussing something of great importance with the other ladies, and Anthony wondered frequently if it regarded him with the way Miss Beatrice’s eyes would slide in his direction every so often.
The gentlemen that had gone out with Mr. DeLancy and Anthony on the night of the engagement ball showed up around ten o’clock, so there was no time for Anthony to speak with Miss Beatrice alone.
“Good morning!” Mr. Laughton greeted, his presence filling the entry hall and nearly suffocating Anthony’s pleasant, if anxious, mood. The man with whom he had struck the bargain marched over and clasped Anthony’s hand in his own, murmuring, “How goes our little bet? Has the seduction begun yet?”
Anthony sighed. “Patience, my friend. She is as difficult as you and the other gentlemen thought her to be. But rest assured, I will strike when the opportunity presents itself in full.” Mr. Laughton grinned and looked as though he was about to make a joking wordplay about men and their ability to fully present themselves to the right lady, but they were interrupted by Mr. DeLancy.
“Come, my friends! Let us join the rest of Lord and Lady Saumon’s guests in the drawing room!” Anthony had known Solomon DeLancy for many, many years but had never seen him as happy as he appeared now so close to his nuptials. Anthony followed closely behind Mr. DeLancy, eager to witness more of his friend’s joy when he was stopped by a veritable vision coming down the stairs.
He openly stared at Miss Beatrice, and his breath nearly left his body when she met his gaze. She smiled, forcing a shakiness into Anthony’s knees, and then turned her attention to one of the gentlemen in their group who Anthony did not know very well at all.
“Ah! Miss Beatrice, you look radiant in the morning light,” Mr. DeLancy exclaimed when he followed Anthony’s eyes. “Please, come join us, and I will introduce you to these fine gentlemen.” She readily accepted his invitation and waited by Mr. DeLancy’s side as he said, “Of course, you know Mr. Grayson, but this is Mr. Bartholomew Laughton, Mr. Richard Thymes, and Mr. Thomas Kinsley.”
Anthony watched with mild jealousy as Miss Beatrice’s fine eyes danced over each of the men as she made it clear that she was happy to make their acquaintance. “It is an honor to meet you,” she said, voice melodic and carrying none of the fire that Anthony had heard directed at him the other night. Mr. DeLancy guided them on, and Anthony noted with displeasure that Miss Beatrice seemed to take a liking to both Mr. Thymes and Mr. Kinsley.
As they made their way to the drawing room, both men seemed fascinated by Miss Beatrice, asking her questions and laughing heartily at her answers. The quiet flower he had known was replaced with a tempting vixen, all-knowing looks, and confident grins. He considered changing tactics – perhaps letting Miss Beatrice come to him instead of pursuing her himself – but he had rarely had success with that in the past. So as they mingled with the Saumons’ other guests, he tried to interject himself into her conversations.
“Oh, do tell me more about the printing system, Mr. Kinsley. I have always loved to read and would be delighted to know how such marvelous words make their way into so many people’s hands.”
“Of course, Miss Beatrice. You see, we are usually sent a copy of the original and are then able to replicate it with our own pressing machine. It is far too complicated to explain with words alone, but if your family would like to come by my shop next week, I would be happy to show you how it is done,” Mr. Kinsley beamed, running a hand through his thinning black hair sheepishly.
“What is your favorite novel, Miss Beatrice?” Anthony inquired, hoping that she would answer him with the same jovial tone she addressed the other gentlemen with. To her credit, there was still a friendliness in her countenance when she looked at him, but Anthony could tell that it was merely for show.
“I haven’t one, Mr. Grayson,” she replied, her gaze slightly distant. “My Grandmother raised me to favor all forms of the written word, so I am as well versed in works of the Classics as I am with the Romantics.” This drew some shock from their small group, particularly from Mr. Thyme, whose ideas about women were not nearly as progressive as Anthony’s.
“My dear Miss Beatrice,” he said, tone dripping with falsely kind condescension, “would you not rather read the books published especially for ladies? It is impressive that you are able to understand such valuable works, but they must be distracting from yourfemininity, no?”
What happened next surprised all in the group as Miss Beatrice squared her shoulders and looked firmly at the gentleman. “Thank you for your concern, Mr. Thyme, but I find myself most at home with books that might otherwise challenge small minds. I believe a lady’s worth is dependent not only on her charms but also her wit.” She seemed to notice that her tongue was too sharp for the present company, and Anthony felt his heart sink slightly when she withdrew and pleasantly teased, “Come, Mr. Thyme! Tell us what your favorite novel is…no doubt an adventure story, I am sure!”
Her levity maintained the air of politeness among the four of them long enough for Anthony to enjoy her presence a little longer, but soon enough, Lady Ivanry was at her granddaughter’s elbow and trying to usher the young woman into another conversation on the other side of the room. Thankfully, Lady Ivanry walked a few steps ahead of Miss Beatrice, so Anthony was able to stop her briefly to say, “That was a great show of strength with Mr. Thyme. Perhaps later we could discuss literature, Miss Beatrice, and you can tell me all about what you have been reading as of late.”
There were no subtle innuendos or improprieties hidden in his speech – Anthony made sure of that – but still, she seemed immune to his seduction. “Perhaps,” was all she replied, the expression on her face both melancholic and listless before it suddenly became radiant as she prepared to meet whomever her grandmother was introducing her to. Anthony stood there, dumbfounded, and watched as she bloomed for everyone else but him.
“Are you ready to admit defeat?” a sneering voice asked from his left, and Anthony turned to face Mr. Laughton, who had recently joined their group along with Mr. DeLancy. “Maybe you have lost your touch,” he mocked, eyeing Mr. Thyme and Mr. Kinsley. “She seemed more enamored with our company, did she not, lads?”