Tears slipped down Beatrice’s cheeks, soaking the chestnut curls framing her face, and for once, she found herself wishing she had never followed Anthony upstairs to the library in the first place.
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
The next morning, Beatrice moved about her day like a ghost. Her emotions had drained from her the night before in a fit of tears and silent sobs. At breakfast, she watched Mr. Morrison softly converse with Penelope and was glad that Lady Saumon had noticed their attraction and made efforts to have the gentleman over more frequently.
“What is your favorite piece to play?” Penelope asked Mr. Morrison, eyes shining with enthusiasm at the opportunity to ask a handsome man so many questions. Beatrice smiled to herself at the innocence of such a question and watched as Mr. Morrison paused thoughtfully before answering her sister. Apparently, he was something of a savant when it came to playing the pianoforte, and Penelope was more than happy to hear about every small concert he had played.
His voice was warm when he replied with a variety of pieces, charmingly claiming, “I have so many favorites, it is so hard to choose only one!” Sitting across the table from them put Beatrice in the fortunate position of being able to witness her sister’s joy without needing to participate in the conversation. And Beatrice was especially thankful for this vantage point when it allowed her to see Mr. Morrison’s fingers graze innocuously against Penelope’s a few times.
Beatrice ate quietly, observing her sister and her potential suitor while the rest of the table conversed cheerfully. This morning, the butler had placed everyone next to someone they seemed to get along with, so there was very little arguing – the only chaos was caused by Lord Ivanry, who as usual, was boasting about his wealth. To Beatrice’s surprise, the victim of his tirades today was Anthony, who appeared to be taking it all in stride.
She stared while picking at her piece of bread and examined the nuances of Anthony’s expressions. For example, when Lord Ivanry exclaimed, “You wouldn’t believe the amount of money I spent on my last carriage, Mr. Grayson. I haven’t even taken it out yet, but the second I got it, at least ten girls asked for rides in it, so I should say it was money well spent!” Anthony’s eyebrows shot up in mock astonishment, and the corners of his mouth twisted in a smile that did not meet his eyes.
Beatrice wondered to herself if Anthony felt as pained to speak to her as he did her guardian and if he only felt obligated to entertain her because of the wager. As she tore off a chunk of bread to put in her mouth, Anthony caught her staring and smiled, the broadness in his shoulders becoming more pronounced as he made an effort to sit up straight. Beatrice had never studied men this intensely, but she supposed that this was his attempt at looking stronger in front of the female who was watching him, much like some birds do to pronounce their colorful plumes to a mate.
This thought made her giggle softly and took her mind off of the nasty business of fooling this gentleman. After breakfast was finished, some of the party retired to the drawing room while others ventured into other rooms of the Saumon Estate. Beatrice noticed her grandmother following the Viscount into Lord Saumon’s office with some of the other guests and assumed her grandmother was plotting to keep Anthony’s grandfather busy so that Beatrice could distract him uninterrupted.
It was a sight to see, her grandmother trying to be on her best behavior so as not to vex the Viscount who really just wanted some peace and quiet, “Have you not other matters to attend to, Lady Ivanry? I have not known you to be this desperate for attention since you were a young lady of barely eight-and-ten!”
“Oh, come now, Lord Randlay,” Lady Ivanry tutted, “I simply wish to let the young people enjoy each other’s company while we older folks find ways to bore each other.”
Anthony’s grandfather regarded the shorter woman with a stern look, asking, “What are you plotting now, Lady Ivanry?”
Beatrice muffled a laugh when her grandmother clutched her mahogany cane tighter at the notion of being labeled a schemer and took a moment to compose herself before replying, “As I said, Lord Randlay, there is plenty of time in the day for the old to mingle with the young, but I am sure they do not wish to spend every moment with us – Lord knows when you were near your grandson’s age, you wanted to be as far away from your elders as possible.”
At this point, only a few people remained in the hallway, seemingly entertained by the bickering between the oldest members of the party.
Beatrice took notice of everyone watching – Minnie and Mr. DeLancy looked amused as did Mr. Morrison while Penelope appeared to be close to fainting from humiliation – and Anthony was the only one who met Beatrice’s eye. His countenance expressed that he was ready to whisk her away from all of this, and Beatrice rather wished he would. Even pretending to be interested in a rake was better than standing there as her grandmother argued with the gentleman she hated.
But then, the mood abruptly changed as Lady Ivanry joked, “Do you remember the engagement party where you hid under the table with Lord Leland Thomas to avoid talking to us girls?” Her aged laugh was bright as she recounted, “You could not have been much older than I was, perhaps six-and-ten, but I could not stop myself from thinking how silly you both looked peeking out at us from beneath a tablecloth.”
There was a beat of silence, and then, to everyone’s shock, Lord Randlay chuckled. “That is quite the story, is it not, Lady Ivanry? You have left out, though, that we were only hiding from you girls because some of you threatened to dance with us, and poor Lord Thomas could not quell his nerves enough to fulfill his gentlemanly obligation.”
Beatrice was astonished then at the similarities between her grandmother and Lord Randlay compared to herself and Anthony. Lady Ivanry was witty enough to keep the Viscount on his toes, but clearly, there was goodwill between them, even if it was from the past. It gave her a sliver of hope that, after breaking it off with Anthony, they might still be friends later in life. She was pulled from her thoughts by her grandmother waving her and Penelope off, saying, “Come, Lord Randlay, let us share some of these tales with Lord and Lady Saumon. I have no doubt it will delight them to hear such stories so close to their own daughter’s wedding.”
Lord Randlay only huffed good-naturedly as he followed Beatrice’s grandmother, seemingly content to relive the past for an hour or two. Beatrice thought everything was in its place and was about to suggest a stroll when Lord Ivanry appeared, leering at Penelope. “My dear, would you care to join me for a walk about the grounds? I’m sure that Mr. Morrison here would like to get to know some of the Saumons’ other guests.” His outstretched hand reminded Beatrice of a spider, and she valiantly fought the urge to swat at it.
Fortunately, Mr. DeLancy stepped in, apparently sensing Penelope’s discomfort at her guardian’s request, to offer, “I was actually hoping to introduce you to some friends of mine, Lord Ivanry. I heard you speaking with Mr. Grayson here about your carriage, and my acquaintance, Mr. Laughton, would very much like to purchase one of his own. Perhaps you could provide the gentleman with a few pointers?”
Flattery, as always, worked like a charm, and Beatrice had barely enough time to grin gratefully at Mr. DeLancy before he and Minnie were whisked away by an energetic Lord Ivanry. That left Penelope, Mr. Morrison, Anthony and Beatrice alone in the grand hall and gave Beatrice the opportunity to ask, “Shall we all get out in the fresh air for a minute or two?”
They all readily agreed and were about to don their coats when another interruption occurred. This time, it was the butler asking for Anthony to join Lord Saumon in the drawing room. “He wishes to hear your opinion on a business venture since you have had so much experience with the Viscount’s, My Lord,” the butler said stiffly, and Anthony was left with no choice but to follow him. Beatrice would have sworn she saw a glint of sadness in Anthony’s blue eyes but dismissed it as him feeling left out, neglecting to realize that they had not spoken all morning.
Beatrice followed behind Mr. Morrison and her older sister as they got some exercise, Penelope stopping every so often to point out unique leaves that were clinging frantically to the tree branches. Beatrice had no doubt that Mr. Morrison was an upstanding gentleman, so her presence did not feel very necessary which left Beatrice time to daydream.
As they neared the lake where Anthony had nearly claimed Beatrice, she thought back to those precious moments, those ripe seconds where he could have given her everything by taking only one. Beatrice’s pulse thrummed at the memory of his naked form and what hung between his legs, so foreign yet so enticing that Beatrice could scarcely force herself to forget it altogether. Not that she wanted to, even after her decision to ignore him following the wedding.
Beatrice prayed then that it would be possible for her to somehow submit her body to Anthony with the time she had left, to be tormented by his touch so that she could carry that pleasure with her forever. In her mind, the carnal understanding between a man and a woman did not need to be tied up in honesty or regret but only in the act itself. She felt she could still seduce Anthony under Lord Ivanry’s orders until the act was complete because it was a simple give and take. No emotions needed to be involved nor promises of the future.
In these thoughts, Beatrice took comfort and noticed for the first time that Penelope was looking at her curiously. Mr. Morrison had ventured further down the path to scout out where they should go, leaving the young ladies behind. “Are you feeling all right, Tris?” Penelope asked, her cheeks flushed girlishly. “I do hope you are not bored with chaperoning us.”
Beatrice pulled herself from her thoughts and grinned, “No, Penny. I am very happy to see you enjoying yourself with a gentleman. It is…quite the change from a certain other gentleman, is it not?”
Penelope laughed and agreed before her countenance softened as she said, “Thank you for all that you are doing, Beatrice. I know it cannot be easy with a man like Mr. Grayson. Hopefully, he is treating you well.”
There was such sincerity in Penelope’s expression that Beatrice almost told her about the thoughts she had just had, but then Mr. Morrison called out to them, “I believe I have found a maze of some sort. Shall we endeavor to solve it?” Mr. Morrison asked this with all the enthusiasm of a young man who had yet to see the world for what it was, and Beatrice envied him for it. It could not possibly be too much to ask for Anthony’s intentions to be just and for him to forgive Beatrice’s own trespasses, could it?
CHAPTERSIXTEEN