Mr. DeLancy spoke up, immediately taking up arms for his friend, “Now, now, Gentlemen, we must give him more time. Such tender things like winning a lady's heart must be handled with care and patience.”
Anthony grinned, having decided in his own mind to confront the young woman the next chance he got even if it risked a reprimand from his grandfather. “My friend is right,” Anthony said, peering down his nose at Mr. Laughton. “I do not wish to scare her away, for she is not as experienced in the art of courting as some of the other ladies I have known.” He stood tall, hands clasped behind his back comfortably. “But rest assured, I shall have her wrapped around my finger very soon.”
It disgusted him slightly to speak of Miss Ivanry in such a way, but most of his present companions were not men of high quality, and he felt he must speak to them on their level. Mr. DeLancy quickly changed the subject, and while they prattled on about taxes, Anthony allowed his gaze to find Miss Beatrice again.
* * *
Though she loved her grandmother, there were very few times that Beatrice was grateful for her meddlesome nature, well intended as it may have been. When she pulled Beatrice away from Mr. DeLancy and Mr. Grayson’s friends, Beatrice breathed a sigh of relief, but it was short-lived when Mr. Grayson caught hold of her arm.
Beatrice could feel his eyes on the back of her neck as she hurried over to her grandmother and was tempted to look over her shoulder to see his longing, handsome face. But before she could do so, her grandmother spoke, “There you are, my dear. I would like to introduce some new friends of mine to you.” The young lady found her mind preoccupied with matters other than her grandmother’s attempts at finding her a husband, so Beatrice did not quite catch the gentlemen’s names.
After she had performed all the niceties that were required of her, Beatrice asked to be excused for a moment. She left the party in the drawing room and stepped out into the grand hall for a few minutes. There, she was able to collect her thoughts and organize them accordingly while marveling at the elaborate chandelier hanging from the high ceiling. Beatrice was too distracted by its brilliant glimmer in the sunlight streaming in from one of the windows to notice that Lord Ivanry had followed her out.
“Do you not like our company?” her guardian asked, startling Beatrice by making his presence known. “Your grandmother is going to great lengths in there to find you a suitor, and here you are, staring at light fixtures.” His tone carried a certain disdain that Beatrice found often accompanied him whenever he began drinking before noon. It was an obvious meanness that Beatrice dreaded acknowledging for fear it would incense him further, but because they were alone, she had no choice.
“I simply needed a moment of quiet, My Lord,” she replied, keeping a firm hold on the witty remarks that begged to be released from her tongue, “and I was admiring Lady Saumon’s decorating skills.” What she said next was not entirely wise, but Beatrice let it slip anyway. “As I am sure you have done as well.”
Lord Ivanry’s expression darkened at the mention of his vociferous appreciation for the Saumon’s wealth, and he stepped toward Beatrice, muttering, “Watch yourself, girl. I’ve been keeping an eye on you all morning and witnessed the very indignant display you put on for Mr. Grayson. If you don’t make an effort to seduce him, Iwilldo what I promised.” Beatrice’s blood ran cold at his threat, and she suddenly found herself in a similar position to Penelope from the night before.
Lord Ivanry towered over her, looming imposingly and with an air of authority that was given, not earned, but that did not stop him from leaning in close enough to Beatrice for her to smell the liquor on his breath. “You and I are business partners in a way, Miss Beatrice, and I would hate to think I was being cheated out of a fair deal.” He peered down his nose at her, and Beatrice shrunk under his hawkish gaze.
Though he was not nearly as broad-framed as Mr. Grayson, when her guardian was close enough to lay a hand on her, Beatrice’s courage flew from her soul, replaced with the meekness she had seen Penelope suffer from. “I…I have made plans to do as you require,” she murmured, voice soft and small. “It will just take time.”
He sneered at her excuse, his icy-blue gaze cutting through her, and Lord Ivanry mocked Beatrice. “You don’t have time,my dear. Penelope is in need of a husband, and I am prepared to generously offer myself to her as soon as we leave this estate. I would work quickly if I were you.”
Pausing to think, he added, “You English girls must not be well-versed in the art of seducing a man.” Lord Ivanry smirked lecherously. “If you ever find yourself in need of lessons, my door is always open.” Beatrice blanched at his blatant lecherousness and was prepared to run back to the drawing-room when he laughed loudly.
“Don’t worry, stupid girl, I was only joking – though it does prove my point,” he grinned victoriously. “I’m afraid I must cut our conversation short, but I hope I have made my point clear.” Beatrice only nodded, too shocked to do much else, and the odious man turned to rejoin the party.
CHAPTERNINE
Beatrice felt light-headed as she watched his retreating figure and at the sensation of her knees buckling, she hurried into another, more secluded room. Frightened perspiration beaded at her brow, and her breaths came short, making Beatrice nearly collapse on a chaise positioned by a large window.
Just as she was beginning to find her composure, Mr. Grayson appeared in the doorway and after a quick glance around the room teased, “We must stop meeting like this.” Beatrice’s head whipped up from where it had been perched in her palms at the sound of his voice, and she glared at him.
“May I not get a moment’s peace from the gentlemen in this house?” Her frustrated outburst startled the man and even Beatrice herself, who sighed and apologized tiredly, “Forgive me, Mr. Grayson. I have had a vexing morning and was looking for a place to gather my thoughts.”
He smiled ruefully, stepping into the room fully and closing the door behind him as he inquired, “What has put you in such a foul mood, Miss Beatrice? Surely not the gentlemen whose company you shared a while ago.”
Beatrice wished then to be upstairs in her bed and away from it all, safe from Lord Ivanry’s threats, her grandmother’s prying, and Mr. Grayson’s persistent attitude. Her hands fumbled with a bit of torn lace on the edge of her silk glove and she contemplated telling Mr. Grayson exactly what had been bothering her all morning – his watchful gaze. And she did, looking at him seriously, “To be perfectly honest, Mr. Grayson, it is you who has been plaguing me. You and your impertinence.”
He looked taken aback at her bluntness, very much like he had last night when she lashed out at him “like a viper.” She saw astonishment fill his countenance. “I am the subject of your ire?” he asked incredulously, crossing his arms across his thick chest. “Tell me, Miss Beatrice, exactly how that came to be?”
Ah, so we are playing cat and mouse again, Beatrice thought, keeping her gaze firmly on his face.This time I shall not succumb to his masculine prowess.
She cleared her throat and straightened her posture even further, taking on an air of self-righteousness. “I have made it plain and clear that I do not wish to be acquainted with you in any way other than a friendly manner, and yet you insist on following me around.”
Beatrice felt proud of herself for speaking so plainly, especially after Lord Ivanry’s tongue lashing, until Mr. Grayson spoke. “You and I both know that that is a lie, Miss Beatrice. Last time you were in my arms and happy to remain there, or so I thought.” He kept his voice low so as to avoid being overheard, but that did not make his tone any less harsh.
“You are mistaken, Sir,” Beatrice replied stiffly. “What we did was a mistake, and I would ratherdiethan feel your lips upon mine again.” Her breath caught in her throat at the end, and Mr. Grayson seemed to have taken note, stepping closer as he had the last time they met until he was standing over her, disapprovingly.
“You are full of falsehoods today, Miss Beatrice,” he tutted exasperatedly. “I know what a lady looks like when she is enamored with me, and your form deceives you even now.” He gestured to her hazel irises, almost completely drowned in the black of her pupils. “Your body desires me even if you refuse to acknowledge it – your eyes no longer look as fierce as they did when I entered, your heart is beating so quickly you struggle for breath, and you haven’t stopped picking at your gloves for a distraction.”
When he tilted his head mockingly, Beatrice could not help but stare at how the movement made his black curls glossy in the sunlight from the window behind her. “Now that I have caught you, will you tell me why you keep running from me?” he murmured, not nearly as cruel as he had been the night before. “There was something in the way you kissed me in the library, well, the last library we were in…a feverish passion that surely cannot have been snuffed out in the span of a few hours.”
Though she had promised herself that she would not give in to him, Beatrice found herself once again in his rakish thrall, embarrassed to have paraded around all morning like the lady she knew she was not to try and confuse Mr. Grayson’s affections. It had failed miserably, and now, here she was, playing the fool for him. Unless…she left right at this moment before it could get any worse. Beatrice rose abruptly, nearly thrown off balance by how close they already were without her realizing it.
She looked up at him from beneath her lashes and hesitantly declared, “I have no feelings for you, Mr. Grayson, and I would pray that you leave me be for the rest of our time here, lest I involve others in our business.” Her warning fell on deaf ears, and Mr. Grayson wrapped his hands firmly around her upper arms before she could turn away from him.