Her Tiger of a Duke (Dukes & Beasts #4)

Chapter 1

Three Summers had passed since her final friend had married, and Beatrice was convinced that she had turned mad.

As she pulled a dark brown curl loose, she tried to convince herself once again that she was perfectly happy, and that there was no need to think about being a spinster in the way that she so often did.

There was no shame in living as she did.

While Beatrice had never had the good fortune to fall in love, she’d also avoided, being sent off to live with a stranger—as if she were a prized pig.

Her friend Cecilia had been the most forthcoming about it, but that was easy to say when she was a beloved wife and mother of two brilliant little children.

She sighed, fixing her own rouge. She had lost her lady’s maid a week prior, her father deciding instead to send the young woman to a cousin of theirs.

The family did not need to be thrifty, but there was no harm in saving what they could, and if Beatrice was no longer searching for a husband, there was no need for her to be perfectly preened.

Not only that, but she was not attending a ball or anything of the sort. She was going to tea with a friend.

Helena had been there for her during the last summer, and she was the only one who Beatrice could count on completely.

That was through no fault of her other friends, and Beatrice did not extend any blame to them.

They were all wives and mothers, and so their lives were different to hers.

They had other priorities, ones that did not involve her, and she was resigned to the fact that they had stopped making the extra effort to make her feel included.

It was precisely what she had asked of them.

All the same, it was nice to have a friend who understood her.

“I do not know what to do with myself,” Helena sighed as she poured tea later that afternoon.

“The same as always, I presume,” Beatrice replied, handing her a carefully wrapped cake. “You will paint in the morning and dance at night. Perhaps you will find a suitor, perhaps not, but you do not need one either way.”

Helena tensed, hazel eyes widening slightly.

“Yes,” she agreed, “of course.”

Beatrice could tell that something was amiss with her friend, but it was not like her to keep it to herself. Beatrice remained quiet for a moment, hoping that Helena would soon speak of her own accord.

“I mean,” she continued, “suppose the matter was settled for me, and I had no need to attend events to find a man anymore.”

“But you do not want that. You have also wanted to marry for love.”

“And that was childish of me.” Helena laughed sadly. “It is all well and good when you are nineteen and believe you have all the time in the world, but I am two and twenty now, and I have very little to show for it. I am without suitors and gentlemen callers.”

“And I have never understood that.”

This was true. With her blonde ringlets and perfect complexion, not to mention her many talents, Beatrice had expected her friend to find a match very soon after they met, but she had not. For reasons unbeknownst to her, it seemed that she was off limits to any man who glanced in her direction.

“I came to know the reason last night,” Helena whispered. “It transpires that I… I have a fiancé already.”

Beatrice narrowed her eyes, waiting for the laugh to come, the admission that it was a joke, but nothing came. When Helena looked around the room helplessly, then focused on Beatrice, her eyes were damp with tears.

“Oh, Helena, what do you mean? Your parents cannot do that to you, surely?”

“Well, they have. They had a Duke lined up for me the day that I was born, an agreement between friends, and there is nothing that I can do to change it. I have no say in the matter.”

“Have you met him, at least…this Duke?”

Helena shook her head, taking a bite of her cake.

“My father will not allow it. He says that it presents too great a risk, and that he fears I may do something to stop the wedding. Therefore, I shall meet my husband on my wedding day. It is frightening, but I am not the only lady who has been forced into such an alliance.”

Beatrice thought back to Dorothy, who had her own husband chosen for her. The couple were very happy now, with four beautiful children. She gave Helena a weak smile, trying to encourage her to think positively.

“The Duke and Duchess of Urkinshire had the same arrangement made. They are blissfully happy. Perhaps you may have the same?”

Helena shook her head again, smiling despondently.

“Your friend is fortunate. A love like that does not typically come from a decision one has not made for themself. I do not see it happening for me, and though I have had some time to think about it, and I understand the reason for it, I do not want to be in this predicament. I do not want any of this.”

Beatrice sighed, for she agreed with Helena. Dorothy had a love that was impossible to replicate.

“Is the ton aware of your engagement?” she asked.

“Not as yet. The banns will be posted next week, and so I shall have one final ball and then that is it. I will be a wife.”

“Then we shall enjoy it thoroughly. You shall dance and laugh and spend the night exactly as it pleases you. One final party for the both of us. Would that help, even a little?”

Helena nodded softly, trembling. Beatrice, in part, wished that she could take her friend’s place, and allow Helena to find a love of her own.

She was aware that she had not tried to find a husband as hard as she could have, and that thought plagued her.

She was a burden to her family, and though her mother swore the contrary she knew the truth.

Her father was all too eager to remind her of how many Seasons had elapsed and yet, here she was, without a beau of her own.

“Helena?” Beatrice said, noticing the wretched expression on her dearest friend’s face. “You look almost green.”

“I am rather unwell at the moment,” she explained. “It will pass.”

Her friends looked at one another, clearly not believing a words that she said, but they did not question her any further.

The Everton ball was held the following day, and Beatrice wore a gown of peach silk.

It was her favorite, and with the importance of the night she felt it merited a beautiful dress.

When she arrived, she looked at the other carriages in the hopes that she would see Helena’s.

She did not, meaning that she would have to find her friend inside.

“I cannot believe how late we are,” her father thundered. “They shall have already begun the first dance.”

“The fault is mine,” her mother said softly. “I was helping Beatrice with her gown.”

“Yes, well, she would have had a maid to do that had she done what was expected of her. She has nobody to blame but herself.”

Beatrice pressed backward into her seat, pleased that they were talking about her rather than to her.

They exited the carriage, and Beatrice entered the ballroom to see a host of people on the dance floor. She glanced around the outskirts, but Helena was nowhere in sight, and so she had nobody to speak with immediately.

Then she looked at the throng of people and actively searched for her friend.

Helena was on the arm of a gentleman, and her smile had returned.

It was a real one, not the sad one that she had been forced to wear at tea.

She was the girl that Beatrice had befriended.

There was a sharp moment of relief before a knife twisted in Beatrice’s chest at the thought of seeing Helena’s happiness taken away from her abruptly.

The music came to an end, and Helena noticed her, joining her on the outskirts with pink cheeks.

“That was wonderful,” she breathed.

“And the evening has only just begun. Go, dance with any gentleman you like. You are free for now, so make the most of it.”

“As should you,” Helena reminded her, disappearing on another gentleman’s arm.

Beatrice knew that she should listen to her friend, as it had been the same wish that her other friends had for her.

Even so, she could not bring herself to speak to any men.

She did not want the ridicule that would follow, and she knew that it would.

Lady Beatrice Jennings did not have a voice, and that had always been the case.

The day of the wedding came sooner than Beatrice expected, and before she knew it Helena was walking down the aisle in white.

She was not happy, far from it, but there was resolve in her eyes.

She may not have had a say in her marriage, but she was choosing to go along with it.

Beatrice wanted to resign herself to it too, but suddenly there was a flare of anger in her.

Of course, the voiceless Beatrice would watch as her friend gave her life to a stranger.

Naturally, she would stand aside, say nothing and allow the imposing gentleman to take her closest companion with him and do with her as he pleased.

She could not even speak for herself, so why would she be any different when it came to a friend?

She sat in her place, the rage burning in her chest as the vicar began the ceremony.

She looked at the groom, tall with dark hair and eyes that were almost yellow.

He looked like a tiger, one ready to pounce, and Beatrice could see the fear in Helena’s eyes.

He was not the man for her, and Beatrice wondered why Helena’s father would ever allow the match to take place.

“And if there is anyone here who has a reason as to why these two should not be married,” the vicar said, “speak now, or forever hold your peace.”

Beatrice no longer wanted her peace to be held. She rose from her seat swiftly. All in attendance turned to her, including Helena, who was bright white.

“I object,” she said, louder than she thought she was capable of. “On the ground that she does not love this man.”