Chapter 15
As Beatrice watched the incident with the bird unfold, she was deliberately looking at everything except the duke. She knew that if she did, she would burst out laughing and humiliate Lord Pembroke.
That was not what she wanted. And yet, not laughing as the man flustered and turned red, then made his excuses and hurried away, was a Herculean effort. She had never found anything so amusing in her life.
And that it should happen to poor Lord Pembroke in front of the Duke of St. James! A man notorious for his suaveness in front of ladies. She could only imagine what Lord Pembroke must be feeling, and what he would tell her brother.
At the thought of her brother, she felt a twinge of guilt in her stomach.
He would not approve if he knew that she was now being escorted on the Serpentine by the Duke of St. James.
Worse still, he would be hurt, knowing that she was spending time with someone who had caused him so much distress when he was young.
She glanced sideways at the duke. He was smiling to himself, as if he were also trying not to laugh, and her heart seemed to constrict at the sight of his dark, mischievous grin.
She looked away quickly. These were the feelings that she knew she should be having for Lord Pembroke, but she could not conjure them no matter how hard she tried.
“Oh, would you look at the time?” Mr. Grenville, the real Mr. Grenville, she supposed, said, theatrically pulling a pocket watch out and examining it. “I really ought to be going. Would you mind terribly, Miss Ashford, if I left you in the very capable and responsible hands of the duke?”
“No, of course not,” she said quietly. Thomas smiled at her, bowed, shook the duke’s hand, and then returned to his horse. He gave them both a small wave before he disappeared along the Serpentine, leaving Beatrice and the duke standing awkwardly next to one another.
Beatrice suddenly felt very aware of her body, just as she had in the library. She did not know what to do with her hands. Usually she was so coordinated and elegant, but ever since seeing the duke at the ball, she had felt ungainly and unsure of how to correctly move her body.
“Would you care to continue walking?” The duke asked. “It is a lovely day, and I will admit, I am pleased to see you again.”
Beatrice hesitated. On the one hand, she very much wanted to say yes. After the hour walk with Lord Pembroke, during which she had felt as if she might be bored senseless, she would love to spend time with someone intelligent, witty, and amusing like the duke.
And the way her heart was racing and her stomach was tying itself in knots was not entirely an unpleasant feeling.
Even if it was one she knew her brother would disapprove of.
“I think I ought to return home,” she murmured, looking down at the ground. “My brother will be expecting me.”
“Of course,” the duke said, and she was surprised to hear that he sounded not at all put out. She looked back up and saw that he was offering her his arm. “Let me take you home, then. It is the least I can do.”
“Oh, no…” she began, then she straightened. “I do not need an escort.”
“But of course you do! You came here with Lord Pembroke, did you not?”
“Well…”
“Then you cannot go back across London on your own!”
He had a point, and she hesitated. She had not brought a carriage, but had walked with Lord Pembroke. To walk from Hyde Park to Mayfair would look very scandalous indeed for a young, unmarried lady.
Then again, walking on the arm of the Duke of St. James would also look quite scandalous…
“I really think I shall be fine walking on my own,” she said, making up her mind.
“I do not think that is such a good idea,” the duke retorted, although she thought she saw a glint of amusement in his eyes.
She put her hands on her hips. “And why not?”
“Well, if we recall what happened to you the last time you ventured out on your own…”
“This is hardly the same! I have my maid with me, and the streets of Mayfair are not dangerous.”
“Well, there might not be any bandits, but what if you mean to jump in the stream again? You might get washed away once more, and I shall have to save you!”
Beatrice was beginning to laugh. The idea of her jumping into the stream along the Serpentine and swimming in front of the entire ton was comical, as was the idea of him jumping in and saving her from a stream that moved at the leisurely pace of an old man with a cane.
“I think I shall be fine,” she said, but she couldn’t keep herself from grinning. The duke grinned back at her.
“Just let me escort you,” he said, his voice lower and a bit rougher. “I shall feel better knowing that you got home safe. It is unlikely that something ill will befall you in Mayfair, but I cannot be sure with you, Miss Ashford. You have a habit of drawing danger to yourself.”
She arched an eyebrow. “On that, we can agree. But you, Your Grace, might be the most dangerous thing in my life, which is why I cannot allow you to escort me home.”
They stared at one another, the tension between them like a drawn string on a violin, ready to be plucked. Beatrice’s whole body felt abuzz, her skin flushed and her heart racing. Something was coursing through her, making her feel alive and focused.
But whatever this was, she knew she was right in her assessment of it: it was dangerous. And she could not allow herself to continue feeling it.
“I cannot allow that,” she said at last.
The duke’s smile flickered. “Then it seems we are at an impasse,” he said languidly. “For you shall not allow me to escort you, but I cannot allow you to go alone. Will you force me to walk behind you, Miss Ashford, like some kind of shadow?”
She opened her mouth to respond with something acerbic, something in the vein of, I will force you to do nothing, you are the master of yourself, when, to her enormous relief, she saw Vivienne and Nathaniel making their way toward them down the path.
A sigh escaped her, and she raised her hand and waved at them, grabbing their attention. Immediately, they waved back, and began to move deliberately toward her and the duke.
“We are in luck,” she said, smiling triumphantly at the duke. “My friends are here, and they will escort me back home.”
The duke looked somewhat put out. Vivienne and Nathaniel would be joining them within a minute, and when he looked at her again, there was urgency in his expression.
“Is Lord Pembroke courting you?” he asked.
Beatrice stiffened. “I do not think that is any of your business,” she said.
“Please, I must know,” he insisted. “Is he courting you?”
She stared up at him, her body quivering. “Yes,” she said at last. “He is courting me. My brother believes he will make me an excellent match.”
“I do not think…” the Duke began, but before he could finish, Vivienne and Nathaniel had arrived.
As they sauntered up, both of them looked curiously between Beatrice and the duke. Vivienne was smiling knowingly, but Nathaniel’s expression was more concerned and harder to read.
“Good afternoon,” Nathaniel said. His voice was pleasant, but Beatrice could tell, from the small hesitation before he bowed to the duke, that he was uncertain about this situation. “I thought you were walking with Lord Pembroke this afternoon, Beatrice?”
“I was,” she said. “But he had a rather unfortunate encounter with a bird…” the duke laughed, and her own lips twitched “…and had to retire. The Duke of St. James was kind enough to offer to walk me home, but…”
“But we shall do that,” Nathaniel interrupted smoothly. He smiled at the duke. “Do not put yourself out, Your Grace. We are going in that direction anyway, and will be dining at Ashford Manor tonight, so it is no trouble.”
The duke blinked slowly, his smile fading away, but he did not argue. Instead, he inclined his head to Nathaniel.
“Thank you, Mr. Carlton,” he said. He then turned to Beatrice and took her hand. Once again, he kissed the back of it, and when he looked up, his eyes lingered on hers for a long moment. “It is good to see you again, Miss Ashford. I hope our paths cross again soon.”
He bowed to Vivienne as well, then turned and strode away. Beatrice watched him go with something like regret. Why did it feel now as if the day was spoiled?
She had gotten exactly the outcome she had claimed to want. And yet, as she watched him walk back to his horse and mount it, she could not help but wish that he would come back and insist that he walk her home.
Most of all, she wished she could have heard the rest of what he was going to say about Lord Pembroke courting her.
All the way back to Ashford Manor, Beatrice was quiet. She couldn’t engage with her friends no matter how many questions they asked her, and at last, they fell silent, letting her walk ahead of them and no doubt giving each other meaningful glances.
Back at the house, Beatrice went upstairs to change. Just as her lady’s maid sat her down at her boudoir to do up her hair, Mrs. Hughes bustled into the room. The moment she saw Beatrice’s expression, she froze.
“Something is the matter,” she said, walking over to the looking glass and gazing into Beatrice’s eyes through it. “Miss Carlton mentioned you were quiet this afternoon, and I can see now that something is bothering you.”
Beatrice sighed. She had never been able to keep much from Mrs. Hughes, but she also knew she could not tell her about the duke.
That would mean revealing what had really happened on the road to Pendleton Manor, and if Mrs. Hughes knew the truth, she would not leave to go visit her daughter. She would be too worried about Beatrice. And Beatrice could not do that to her.
“I am just thinking about Lord Pembroke,” she said, looking away. “My brother is determined for me to wed him, but I do not feel for him what a woman ought to feel about her future husband.”
Mrs. Hughes nodded, then slowly lowered herself into a nearby armchair. She looked at her very seriously through the looking glass.
“You are a lady of the ton,” she murmured, “which means that you do not get the luxury of marrying simply from your own free will.”
“I know,” Beatrice began hurriedly, “but…”
Mrs. Hughes raised a hand. “Let me finish, dear. I wanted to add that while you may not have the luxury of choosing simply for love, the way others might, that does not mean you have to settle for someone for whom you feel nothing. A marriage is a life-long commitment, and it should not be entered into lightly. The man you marry will not only be your husband, but your friend, companion, protector, and confidant. You want him to be someone you feel yourself with. Someone you trust. And someone you feel tenderness for. I do not think that is such an impossible goal for a young lady of the ton. And you deserve that, Beatrice.”
To her surprise, Beatrice’s eyes filled with tears, and she had to take several calming breaths to keep the tears from falling.
“That is very kind of you to say, Mrs. Hughes,” she murmured, looking back up at her guardian. “I appreciate your wisdom more than I can say.”
“Well, it may be my last bit of wisdom for a while,” Mrs. Hughes said. “My daughter has written back to me and warmly invited me to visit her. I shall be leaving tomorrow.”
Beatrice swallowed down her sadness and smiled at Mrs. Hughes. “That is wonderful,” she murmured, even as her own heart felt it was about to break. For two years, she and Mrs. Hughes had lived and traveled together. It would be very difficult to be without her.
But it was time. Mrs. Hughes had her own family, and Beatrice was trying to form her own, as well.
That night at dinner, Beatrice had been careful to instruct the footman to seat Vivienne next to Theodore, while she and Nathaniel were seated together a little further down the table.
As she ate her soup, she kept stealing surreptitious glances at her brother and Vivienne, who were speaking animatedly to each other. Theodore looked as if he was barely able to contain his laughter, while Vivienne kept blushing prettily.
Nathaniel, meanwhile, hadn’t seemed to notice. And when he leaned closer to Beatrice to speak with her, she had a feeling she knew what topic of conversation he had in mind.
“I see you were with the duke again this afternoon,” he muttered, low enough that Theodore wouldn’t hear.
“Not on purpose,” she said quickly. “I was walking with Lord Pembroke when he joined us.”
“But then the two of you were alone together.”
“My maid was with us.”
Nathaniel nodded, but she could see, from the squint of his eyes, that he was worried.
“I know it is not my place to say anything,” he said after a moment.
“I am not your brother or your father. But the duke has a certain reputation, Beatrice, and it seems clear to me now that he has set his sights on you as his next…”
Beatrice looked at him sharply. “His next what?” she asked. “Surely you cannot think that I would ever be pulled into anything untoward, can you?”
“No, of course not,” Nathaniel said quickly. “I should just hate to see you get hurt. Or have your reputation even slightly marred by association.”
Beatrice grit her teeth. He had a point there. She need not do anything for the ton to turn against her. They often did not need proof, only a whiff of scandal.
“And there is something else,” Nathaniel said, frowning. “Something I have been hearing whispers of recently… that the duke might lose his title.”
Beatrice stared at him, her soup spoon frozen halfway to her mouth. “Lose his title?” she repeated. “Is such a thing even possible?”
“I do not know,” Nathaniel admitted, shaking his head. “But something does not sit right about all of it. I do not trust St. James, and I do not want you to get caught in the crossfire of whatever is going on in his life.”
But I have already been caught in the crossfire, she thought to herself, as she returned to her soup. Quite literally.
Nathaniel’s warning was not making her want to stay clear of the duke. In fact, it was making her want to warn him. Because if he did not know what others were saying about him, he ought to. After the number of times he’d saved her life, she owed him that much at least.