He had no idea how long Beatrice had been lying to him – she could have followed him upstairs on the night of the ball with these plans for all he knew – and this idea settled Anthony further into his depressed state. Perhaps his grandfather was right; after all, the Viscount had correctly guessed that Miss Beatrice was trying to trap him and Anthony, in all his wisdom, had defended the girl. He had proclaimed that she was a lady of good morals and, at the very least, an upstanding friend. But, of course, Anthony was wrong because how could he expect that a woman like her would fall for someone like him?
It all made sense – her sudden kindness after Anthony had supposedly offended her in the library of the assembly hall, her mercurial behavior when it came to Anthony knowing her intimately, and the acute manipulation of his heart.
Turning his head, Anthony spied the crystal decanter containing his favorite bourbon that he liked to sip occasionally before bed. His joints felt stiff as he stood, aching from a bruised ego and battered beliefs about the woman he had come to love. He had neither the willpower nor desire to pour himself a glass with any level of decorum, so Anthony was forced to wipe the spilled droplets of his drink from the end table with the sleeve of his white dress shirt.
After pouring himself a tall glass of brown liquor, Anthony slumped into a chair nearby and resolved to finish it all, hoping that it would give him enough courage to return downstairs to face Beatrice.
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
When Beatrice had returned with her sister and Mr. Morrison after nearly half an hour of deciphering the Saumons’ maze, they had been greeted by their grandmother and Lord Randlay. “I hope you girls had fun,” their grandmother said, extending her arms toward the small group of their acquaintances gathered by the door. “I believe Lady Saumon is taking some of our friends into town. Would you care to join them?”
Beatrice waited for her sister to respond, fully intending to keep them company if Penelope wished so that she could spend more time with Mr. Morrison. “If it pleases you, Grandmother,” Penelope said, looking first at the older woman and then shyly up at her potential suitor, “I would rather stay here with Beatrice and Mr. Morrison. He has promised to play for us on the pianoforte upstairs, and I should like to hear him.”
Their grandmother smiled knowingly, tapping her mahogany cane on the ground in satisfaction. “Yes, that would be all right with me, Penelope. Perhaps you could even learn a thing or two from Mr. Morrison!”
That made Lord Randlay laugh behind her, and Beatrice watched bemusedly as he chuckled good-naturedly. “If your granddaughters have your skill for music, Lady Ivanry, I think they will need more than one lesson.” Penelope giggled quietly and Beatrice remembered the hours her grandmother had spent tutoring them and the mock frustration she would express when they could not get their scales quite right.
“Oh, hush, Lord Randlay,” their grandmother chided teasingly, waving him off with an elegant hand. “The pursuit of a hobby is noble no matter what one’s skill in it is.” Beatrice fully expected the Viscount to rouse an argument, but he simply shook his head with a small smile. The lack of bickering clearly shocked Penelope too, for she was quick to glance at Beatrice as they shared a look of bewilderment.
“Enjoy yourselves, girls,” their grandmother bid them, “and if you should need me, I will be in the drawing room with Lord Randlay.” Beatrice watched as Anthony’s grandfather extended his arm, and she took it, her lavender gown swirling at her feet as they strolled away.
Mr. Morrison, who had simply observed the interaction, suddenly spoke, “Well, shall we go upstairs so that I may play something for you ladies? Maybe a soothing, midmorning sonata?” He then held his elbow out for Penelope, much like Lord Randlay had for their grandmother, and she took it in enthusiastic silence.
Beatrice knew then why Penelope seemed to be so infatuated with Mr. Morrison for he was everything their guardian, Lord Ivanry, was not. Where Lord Ivanry was cold and calculating, Mr. Morrison was open and gentle. There was no licentiousness in Mr. Morrison’s gaze, only an admiration and a fresh-faced passion that could have made spring blossoms bloom. And though he was taller and broader than Penelope, who was naturally dainty, Beatrice could scarcely consider him ever using those advantages in a cruel way.
In other words, as they ascended the stairs, Beatrice considered herself lucky that Penelope and Mr. Morrison had found each other, considering the ghastly alternative. When they were halfway up, Minnie called from below, “Might I join you? Mr. DeLancy has joined my mother’s group in town, and I must admit I am frightfully bored.” Beatrice looked around briefly to see if Lord Ivanry was with her, but Minnie appeared to be alone, having somehow escaped the gentleman’s less-than-pleasing company.
She was welcomed readily, and the four of them hurriedly gathered around the pianoforte in the conservatory. Mr. Morrison sat down at once and opened the lid carefully, setting his fingers upon the keys in a quick scale or two to warm up. “Oh, that is marvelous!” Penelope squealed, forgetting her quiet nature for a moment. “You have such talented hands, Sir!”
“That was nothing, dear ladies,” he said with an air of well-earned confidence. “Wait until I am plucking the notes from thin air, and then you may applaud.” The girls had to laugh at the notion, and then Mr. Morrison began.
He had not been lying about his innate talent, Beatrice discovered, for his fingers moved so dexterously over the ivory keys that the very rhythm seemed to dance in the air. Penelope stood to his left, turning the pages every so often, gazing down dreamily at the gentleman as he played for her. Beatrice took a moment to admire the peaceful scene, so full of tenderness and harmony, which were, for her, hard to come by as of late.
There, in the conservatory, Beatrice was able to escape Anthony’s longing gaze and Lord Ivanry’s threats. She took it all in – the twinkling vibrations from the pianoforte at Mr. Morrison’s command, her sister’s subtle joy, and the soft, sleepy smile that she shared with Minnie Saumon. It was so ethereal that Beatrice should have known it would all end with the sudden appearance of Lord Ivanry.
“Ah, there you are, my dears,” he crooned, glancing between Penelope and Beatrice. “I see you have found some new entertainment.” It was said with such a sneer that Mr. Morrison stopped playing to stand up, and Beatrice noted how Penelope’s potential suitor schooled his expression much like their grandmother did.
“Won’t you join us, My Lord?” Mr. Morrison asked politely, a tight-lipped smile on his face. “I was merely performing a small concert for these ladies.” And then, in a bold move, he stepped slightly so that his body was in between Penelope and Lord Ivanry. It astonished all in the room and left Beatrice wondering how Mr. Morrison had discovered Lord Ivanry’s ill intentions.
Their guardian took notice, standing straighter in an effort to appear stronger than the young man, and was clearly vexed at this display of protection. His frosty gaze was leveled then, only at Beatrice, as he snidely replied, “Thank you, but no, Mr. Morrison. Though I’m sure you’re a great piano player, I came up here to ask Beatrice to speak with me privately.”
The air in the room got denser, lush with pressure, and Beatrice could feel all their eyes upon her. She halfway wished Mr. Morrison would shield her body as well, but Beatrice had taken on the responsibility of defending Penelope as he had. From behind, Minnie brushed her right hand against Beatrice’s, a silent offer to make up some excuse to keep her here, but Beatrice knew she could not show her fear, not when they were so close to outwitting Lord Ivanry.
“Of course, My Lord,” she said firmly, forcing her expression to harden so that there would be no objections. Beatrice turned to the man guarding her sister with a forced smile. “Thank you for playing for us, Mr. Morrison. Please, do not halt your concert on my account.” Penelope tried to fearfully catch her eye, but Beatrice ignored it and followed Lord Ivanry out of the room.
They walked in silence, her guardian with a sly grin on his face and Beatrice with a solemn stare as he lead her to the back of the Manor. She barely had time to take note of any of the paintings on the hallway walls before Lord Ivanry was ushering her into an empty room. It looked like a smaller version of the drawing room where her grandmother and Lord Randlay currently resided, meaning there was not much space for Beatrice to separate herself from the awful gentleman.
“I see you’re learning to make my happiness a goal of yours,” Lord Ivanry chuckled, nearly shutting the door behind him. “If only your sister could do the same.”
“Do not speak to me about Penelope,” Beatrice sighed, keeping her voice from wavering with anxiety. “Please, just tell me why you have brought me here so that we may go our separate ways again.” There was a tiredness to her voice that Beatrice could not bring herself to hide, and she hoped the annoyance in it frustrated her guardian.
“Very well,” he mused, tucking his hands behind his angular back like a vulture. “I’ve noticed lately that you’re spending an awful lot of time with Mr. Grayson, and yet I haven’t received any proposals. I simply want to know why you’re choosing to drag this out.”
“I am merely taking my time so as not to scare him away,” Beatrice lied, knowing full well that she was the one who was hesitant. “I think I will be more desirable if Mr. Grayson has to chase me to get what he wants.”
Lord Ivanry huffed, “Don’t be coy with me, Beatrice. I saw the way Mr. Morrison was looking at Penelope upstairs. If I had to guess, I would say you’re biding your time until he makes an offer so that you can weasel out of our deal.”
Trying her best to appear astonished and exasperated, Beatrice raised her brows, arguing, “I do not have a hand in Penelope’s affairs, My Lord. What she does and whom she meets here are strictly her business, and if I appear happy that she has found a suitor, is that so wrong considering I am her sister?”