Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
“It is a lovely evening, is it not?” Lord Milton asked, guiding Beatrice to a quieter part of the terrace.
“It is beautiful,” Beatrice said automatically, following him gracefully and glancing around to politely acknowledge all the ladies and gentlemen enjoying the night air.
“Might this do, Miss Klane?” He asked. The viscount had discreetly turned away from prying eyes and towards the grounds of the great house, gesturing towards the corner of the terrace.
They were further away from the light of the doors here and thus, the warmth of the ballroom, meaning it was slightly less populated.
They were at least six feet away from the nearest people.
It was not privacy, not by a long way, but it was perhaps the closest thing to it that they could expect in the circumstances.
Beatrice was now used to every aspect of her life being on display.
“Good evening, Lady Granger,” she said softly as she moved through the crowd. “Good evening Mr. Barret.”
These people were nothing to her, just regular faces she knew from balls, and yet they would be partially privy to her quiet conversation with the viscount.
She found it utterly absurd that courting was still somehow imagined to be a private ritual, especially when it felt like every single person and their mother knew exactly what was going on in her romantic life.
Still, she pushed aside these angry thoughts and politely stood beside Lord Milton, looking out over the rose garden.
“It shall do nicely,” she said, smiling up at him.
She had expected him to push forward with the conversation.
She had found that most suitors were extremely talkative, often chattering away about their lives and estates and boring her silly.
She was not used to this kind of silence.
Nervously, she took a large sip of her champagne glass, even though she had consumed one already.
“The moon is bright,” she said, watching for his reaction. He nodded and smiled, but seemed quite happy to watch her, as if enraptured by her beauty. She supposed he thought this was flattering, but she found it a little off-putting.
“The roses are exceptionally fair this summer,” Beatrice added, her eyes resting on the white arrangements of garden roses in ceramic vases at the patio’s edge, some painted with gold leaf.
“They are, indeed.”
The viscount plucked a long-stemmed white rose from the arrangement, handing it to her with a tilt of his head. She was aware of the eyes of the Ton watching them.
“They complement your gown exquisitely,” he added softly.
She wished the words came from somewhere real, but she had the overwhelming sensation that he was also slotting into a role that he was familiar with playing.
She wondered how many roses he had given out this season.
She wondered how many gowns he had complimented.
Yet it didn’t stop her from following her lines. This was a dance she knew well now.
“Thank you,” Beatrice said.
She took the rose, carefully ensuring that she kept her eyes lowered, trying not to look too eager.
As one of the most eligible debutantes of the season, she had to constantly consider how she would be perceived by those watching her.
She could hear the ladies’ intrigued mutterings behind their fans, and knew that the news would be spreading back to the ballroom that Lord Milton was courting Lucifer of London’s sister.
Breathing in the sweet scent of the rose and allowing herself to close her eyes briefly, she was suddenly overwhelmed with how exhausting it all was.
Or perhaps it was all the champagne and the little food in her stomach. The world started to tilt slightly.
“Are you quite well, Miss Klane?” Lord Milton asked.
Beatrice opened her eyes quickly and smiled generously, trying to assure him that they were still on script, but the words wouldn’t quite come out.
“Oh,” she said, unable to find the perfect excuse suitable for an elegant debutante. She had learned them all by rote, but now not a single one would come to her tongue.
“I - I am fatigued,” she blurted out, reflecting on her old habits. If in doubt, speak the truth. “I find this whole thing... a little overwhelming.”
She immediately cursed herself inside her own head. This is exactly what Anna taught you not to do!
“I understand,” Lord Milton nodded. Beatrice stared at him in surprise, unsure what to say. It was not what she had expected him to respond with.
“You do?” She asked, a little incredulously.
He must have picked up on her tone, because he smiled a little sardonically and said, “Sometimes I find balls to be quite overwhelming, too. So many people…” Lord Milton trailed off, looking over the gardens, his blonde hair catching slightly in the cool breeze.
Beatrice was utterly surprised by his confession and all of her interactions with him thus far.
How rare it was to find a gentleman who was so kind, so considerate, and didn’t try to talk her ear off about some boring old thing.
She titled her head to one side, examining him for a moment.
He really was very handsome. Beatrice could hardly fault Anna’s taste.
She decided to at least try to give the man a chance.
It was not like the man she preferred was falling over himself to court her.
On the contrary, Giovanni was probably busy flirting his way around the room at that very moment.
The champagne inside her curdled to fury at the idea.
She turned her attention to the viscount, dismissing all thoughts of Giovanni.
“You prefer solitude to company, then?” She asked, sipping the dregs of her champagne and setting the glass down on one of the small patio tables.
With her hands free, she rested them on the terrace edge, leaning forward slightly and smiling up at Lord Milton in what she hoped was a teasing, flirtatious manner.
The same way she had seen that red-headed woman inside look up at Giovanni.
“I prefer the company of those I know,” he corrected, his words resonating with Beatrice. “I prefer my own surroundings, my own creature comforts.”
“Me too,” Beatrice grinned, forgetting for a moment to look dignified before quickly covering her mouth with her fan. However, she thought she might have been too late because the viscount’s smile had quirked too, turning into something more goofy than aloof.
“And those comforts are found here in London?” Beatrice asked, trying to bring the conversation back on track.
“My London house is very comfortable,” he nodded. “But I prefer to spend my time in the country if I can. Do you like the country?”
“I do,” Beatrice said. A country man too, Beatrice thought, slightly frustrated. Is there anything wrong with him, or has Anna used some magic spell to create the perfect gentleman?
“My family seat is in Devon, and most lovely,” he said, spreading his fingers wide on the terrace edge. “I understand that Mr. Klane’s estate, Fallenbrook, is most grand indeed?”
“Oh, it is,” Beatrice smiled, happy for any excuse to talk about the home she loved, and a little loose-tongued from too much brandy.
“It is a castle, and most delightful. Quite isolated, you see, aside from our villagers and tenants, and very beautiful in all weather…” Beatrice stopped herself, realizing that she was gushing.
She glanced over her shoulder surreptitiously and saw several ladies of the Ton standing nearby, eyes flicking between her and Lord Milton.
Of course, they would be thinking what a fool she was to compare the viscount’s country house, which would be grand but passed down generations, to the sprawling, great castle of Fallenbrook, which had once been the seat of a great duke and that Silas had purchased at a high price.
They would be thinking it was quite improper of her to remind Lord Milton that her brother had a grander estate, even if he had no title.
She hated it but remembered the horrible comments that followed her when she first entered society.
Tradespeople. Unrefined. Common. New money.
Even though Beatrice’s family had more money than most any of her suitors, she knew that there was only one attitude she was allowed to have towards them: submissive, humble, and grateful.
“But I am sure it is nothing to - to Milton house,” she said, hurrying to backtrack, hoping she could save the conversation. However, Lord Milton held up his hand, smiling and shaking his head.
“Do not worry, Miss Klane,” he chuckled. “I am under no illusions as to the comparative grandness of Milton house to Fallenbrook, but I care not. Milton house is my home—I love it for its memories, not its size.”
“I feel similarly about Fallenbrook,” Beatrice replied.
His words had struck her—it was unlike a gentleman of the Ton not to be intimidated by Silas and his fortune, and Beatrice often found their sycophantic need to compete with her brother very off-putting.
The viscount was not like that. He seemed... different.
But is he different enough to compare with Giovanni? A voice said inside her. Is anyone? Does his touch or his voice make you feel the way Giovanni does?
Giovanni is a girlhood infatuation! Beatrice scolded herself tersely. He doesn’t feel that way about me, and I would be a fool to hold every man to the standards of a fantasy...
“Did you grow up there?” Lord Milton asked. “I had understood a part of your childhood was spent on the continent.”
“It was,” Beatrice nodded smoothly, the lie of her past slipping easily into place. “My brother’s work took us all over Europe, and we moved regularly until I was thirteen years old when Silas purchased Fallenbrook. It has been my only home ever since.”
“I imagine it was quite a childhood,” Lord Milton commented. “Roaming all over the continent. I love to travel. I suppose you speak many languages?”