And as he extended his hand for the next song, all Beatrice could think was that Anthony had no idea how right he was.
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
After Beatrice had unexpectedly sparred with him the night before at the party, Anthony discovered that he had fallen for her even more. Rarely had a woman of her upbringing and introverted nature spoken to him with such derision, but Anthony supposed he should have guessed that was her true nature since their argument in the library of the grand assembly hall.
He tossed and turned in his sheets that night, plagued by the wicked curve of her lips and the arch of her brow. Anthony had been treating Beatrice like a delicate flower, or at least trying his best to do so, since making her official acquaintance, but it seemed her appetites were stronger. The issue was, he no longer knew how to approach her without squandering the wager for which he now cared very little. Anthony decided that if he wished to pursue Miss Beatrice in the way he intended, he would have to call off the deal with Mr. Laughton.
Though he may risk losing his appetite for the fairer sex should Beatrice ultimately reject him, Anthony knew this was the right thing to do. A decision, he was sure, that the Viscount would be proud of if he ever found out about the wager. And so when Anthony next had the chance to speak with Mr. Laughton, he acted on these impulses.
The night after the party, Anthony suggested taking Mr. DeLancy into town to a reputable gentleman’s club, and Mr. Laughton had agreed, saying, “Yes, we ought to take the future groom out on the town one last time.” Anthony had nearly rolled his eyes at that sentiment, for Mr. DeLancy was not one to avoid his bride-to-be nor wish for her absence, but there they were, piling into a carriage after supper. Mr. Thyme and Mr. Kinsley eagerly chatted among themselves the entire ride, reminding Anthony of schoolboys who rarely got out of the classroom, while the rest of their group rode in dignified silence. When they finally arrived, Anthony selected a private corner of a room where he could announce the wager was off.
“You cannot be serious, Mr. Grayson,” Mr. Laughton chided, his voice dripping with condescension. “Look at all the progress you have made. We have seen the pains you have taken to get this far. Surely, she is not that far from your grasp now.” Anthony grimaced, shifting in the large, leather armchair, now very glad that he had taken this conversation well out of Beatrice’s earshot.
“It is indecent,” Anthony argued, “and I know that may sound humorous coming from the likes of myself, but I can no longer in good conscience toy with this girl’s heart.” Mr. DeLancy looked over at him with an expression Anthony would describe as admiration, but Mr. Laughton’s only grew crueler.
“So, you were unable to make her fall for you after all?” he mused, running a finger along the rim of his glass half full of whiskey. “Was it really that much of a challenge, Anthony, for you to seduce a quiet, innocent girl? My goodness, I thought you thrived on such a thing.” Mr. Thyme and Mr. Kinsley snickered nasally at that barb.
“Bartholomew,” Anthony replied, adding a twinge of annoyance to his tone, “I am withdrawing from the deal because I believe I have successfully charmed Miss Beatrice and would like to pursue her honestly. I obviously cannot do so if the foundation of my courtship is based on falsehoods.” Mr. Laughton looked at him curiously at that admission, and Anthony could clearly see the cogs in his mind working furiously.
“This is absurd,” he said at last, gesturing to their small group. “You may still win our wager, not that I wish you to, if you simply go to the American and ask for Miss Beatrice’s hand in marriage. If what you have said is true, she will no doubt readily agree to a betrothal, and you can have both the girl and your triumph over me.” Mr. Laughton took a sip of whiskey, giving Anthony time to school his disgusted expression into a calmer one. “Besides, do you think that gentlemen are meant to be honest with their ladies?”
He said “honest” with such contempt that it made Anthony’s skin crawl. Even as a rake, Anthony had always tried his best to be fair with the women he sought out and had only recently slipped with Beatrice – a mistake that he intended to rectify tonight. “It is in our very nature to pursue them by whatever means necessary,” Mr. Laughton continued as though he was giving a lecture. “These ladies we court are so simple, so lovely, that if we must lie to them on occasion, it makes no difference.”
Anthony glanced over at Mr. DeLancy who was tapping his fingers on the arm of his chair with a dark expression on his face at hearing someone like Miss Saumon be spoken of so poorly. Anthony then looked around the room at the portraits of various men on the walls and thought about the biting strength the young woman had shown only just the night before. Finally, he fixed his stern gaze on Mr. Laughton, ready to tactfully destroy the man’s argument.
“In all the time I have spent enjoying a woman’s company, I have never met one that was undeserving of good intentions,” Anthony began, straightening his posture, “whether she was pure or not, wealthy or working class, outspoken or as quiet as a summer rain.” He smiled to himself then before continuing, “Admittedly, I have chased after all of them at one point or another, and I thought that by entering this wager with you that I could add Miss Beatrice to that list without much thought. But now, I have come to realize what an exquisite woman she is, and as I said, I wish to propose marriage when I feel the time is right.”
“All for Miss Beatrice?” Mr. Laughton asked incredulously, his chocolate-brown eyes full of confusion and distaste. “Surely she is not worthy of such a consequence. What if she will not have you, Mr. Grayson?”
Anthony stood, and Mr. DeLancy joined him, seemingly understanding that he intended to leave. “That is a risk I am willing to take for her. Now, I am afraid that all of this talk has made me tired and yearning for the comfort of my bed. I shall make sure to send the carriage back here when I return to the Saumon Estate. Goodnight, gentlemen.” And with that, Anthony strode toward the front doors of the establishment with Mr. DeLancy at his side, feeling more excited than ever about the prospect of marrying Beatrice.
He did not spare a glance back at Mr. Laughton and his goons, but if he had, Anthony was sure they would be as he left them, staring wide-eyed with their mouths open in silent protest.
* * *
While Anthony was making his decision and cutting ties with Mr. Laughton, Beatrice was stewing in her room. At the moment, she had been proud of her ability to stand up to Anthony, but now, in solitude, Beatrice found herself even more confused. She decided to mentally walk through each of their encounters to make sense of it all.
First, there was the night in the library at the assembly hall where he had kissed her, and Beatrice had not fully understood it but enjoyed the sensation anyway. Then, they found each other again in the library here where Beatrice had tried to push him away after their second kiss. There was their moment by the lake which still brought butterflies to Beatrice’s stomach and his subsequent attentions that were all more than welcome. But then, last night when he was talking with the strange woman, something had changed.
Certainly, she still felt a strong connection to Anthony – she would not have danced with him otherwise – but it was tainted by the reminder of his wager that she overheard. There was a possibility, Beatrice knew, that all of it was an act, and any feelings she may have sensed were carefully crafted to make her think he was falling for her. Of course, Beatrice knew she was no better, having accepted his affections under threats from Lord Ivanry. It seemed to her that neither of them knew the intentions of the other in full, and Beatrice knew this would only cause havoc should it be discovered.
As she ruminated on that possibility, her grandmother knocked on her doorframe and gently asked, “You seemed troubled, dear, so I have come to check on you. May I come in?” Beatrice bade her enter and moved to stand from where she had been slouched on her bed, but her grandmother stopped her.
The old woman let out a quiet groan as she joined Beatrice, leaning heavily on her cane as the tasteful beads around her throat clacked together. “Tell me, what troubles you, child?” she asked, peering at Beatrice with wizened eyes.
“I am not sure what to do,” Beatrice answered, wringing her daytime gloves in her hands. “Last night, while I looked for Mr. Grayson, I saw him talking animatedly with another woman, and I…I suppose I was reminded that our relationship is not as it seems.” The wise woman nodded, motioning for her granddaughter to continue. “I think I may be in love with Mr. Grayson, but I am not sure if there is even validity to it.” Beatrice purposefully neglected to tell her grandmother about the wager Mr. Grayson made and hoped that this explanation would still suffice.
“It has been many years,” Pandora murmured, “but I still remember the thrill of a man’s affections and what they inspired in me when I was your age.” She closed her eyes and smiled as though reliving a beautiful memory before adding, “You must do what your heart thinks is best, Beatrice. I know this advice is what many grandmothers have said before, but it is true. There are certain things one must come to terms with in one’s life, and the most important of those is love, right or wrong.”
Her grandmother opened her eyes, and they held all the shining youth that had long since passed by her. “Now, you may choose to continue your relationship with Mr. Grayson, but you must eventually tell him about your deal with Lord Ivanry. It may cause heartache, but I know you, my girl, and you would not wish to have a relationship without complete honesty,” she continued, and Beatrice suddenly felt awful at having lied to Anthony. “And if you cannot do that,” Pandora finished, “then you must let him go once everything is settled with Penelope.”
Beatrice nodded, understanding the importance of maintaining the charade for as long as it took for Mr. Morrison and Penelope to form a courtship. There were several moments of silence before Pandora stood, leaning heavily on her cane, and patted Beatrice on the shoulder. “You will do the right thing, I am certain, Beatrice,” she assured, shuffling back to the doorway. “Who knows, perhaps this gentleman is more trustworthy than he appears – unlike his grandfather.”
The young woman was left with that statement and a sense of dread in her bones. Her grandmother, it seemed, still wished for Beatrice and Penelope to love their husbands and not enter a marriage for duty, but would Beatrice be able to love a man like Anthony? She knew one thing for certain, and that was that her body lusted for him even if it was all a lie. Still, despite her recent brush with ruination, Beatrice supposed that did not mean that she loved him.
And she was unwilling to expose her own deception, as her grandmother had suggested, so Beatrice once again found herself at a crossroads. It felt unfair to ignore her feelings and release him once Penelope was taken care of, but Beatrice could think of no other alternative. She did not want to be made a fool of by Anthony and similarly did not desire that for him either, so Beatrice made a decision.
She would enjoy his attention for as long as they were at the Saumon Estate and push for Penelope to secure an engagement with Mr. Morrison so that after Minnie’s wedding, Beatrice could gently free Anthony. Though it pained her to think of such things, Beatrice knew this was a necessity given the entanglement they had been forced into by others which knotted further with their own doings.