“I could do with a bit more incentive, my lord. Your dubious charms aren’t nearly enough,” Beatrice replied.
“My lord,” Lady Blythe intoned, no longer speechless.
“You recall the Duchess of Castlemare, do you not, Lady Blythe?” Ellis said in a firm tone. “We became reacquainted during my time in the country. I extended an invitation on your behalf.”
The plump canary bobbed. “Your Grace. Welcome.” She gestured to the two women beside her. “Lady Pierce and her daughter, Lady Anabeth Swift.” Lady Blythe, oddly enough, didn’t seem terribly upset to find Beatrice at her party now that she’d overcome her shock.
“Delighted.” Beatrice greeted both women politely with just the right amount of boredom.
Lady Pierce glanced down at Beatrice’s skirts, where Blythe’s hand was firmly entwined with her own. “A pleasure, Your Grace. If you’ll excuse us, I see Lord Norris has arrived. Come, Anabeth.” The two retreated in a flurry of silk, Anabeth casting one last wistful gaze at Blythe before disappearing into the crowd.
Lady Blythe, clearly unsure how to proceed, said, “I must check on the refreshments. Excuse me.”
“You’ve rattled my mother,” Blythe murmured once she’d disappeared. “No easy task. I approve of the gown, by the way.” He cast a glance at Andromeda who was engaged in conversation with another young lady a few paces away. “You apologized and received a spectacular gown as a reward. I’m very proud of you, Bea.”
Beatrice’s fingers slid over the small carving in her pocket. “Andromeda is kind in the most annoying ways. Forgiving.” She gazed at the Duchess of Granby. “Another thing I must dislike about her.”
“You are a cause she has championed. Remind me to tell you the story of Granby’s elderly tailor one day. You’ll find it amusing.” His fingers tightened on hers. “I’ll assume your entrance tonight means you won’t be handing me over to Lady Anabeth.”
“That pale, mousy thing? I can’t believe you’d have any interest.”
“Well, she’s no snobbish harridan, I grant you. But she adores me.”
Beatrice rolled her eyes. “Iadore you. But do not expect fawning of any sort.”
“I was prepared to live in Chiddon indefinitely.” His voice grew solemn. “It would have been difficult but not insurmountable. Your comfort is most important to me.”
Beatrice tightened her fingers around his. “I—have a house here. I will tolerate London for you. Ride in carriages. Be gossiped about. Have children scream at the sight of me.”
A bark of laughter left Blythe. He really was glorious when he laughed.
“It isn’t all that bad, Beatrice. Not with your hair styled just so. Barely noticeable. But society will whisper a great deal after tonight. Speculate over the accident. Your mysterious departure from London. How even so, you managed to snare the eligible, charming, and magnificent Earl of Blythe.”
“Fop.”
“You’ll have to show me later how Andromeda managed to give you the appearance of an earlobe.”
Beatrice discreetly stepped on his foot.
“Mrs. Farthing doesn’t look at all distressed to be away from the good vicar. I found him a post, by the way. Prestigious, but far from London and Chiddon. Cornwall, to be exact.”
“In that case, I am in desperate need of a lady’s companion. I simply can’t release Mrs. Farthing from her duties to me.”
Blythe’s jaw hardened abruptly, the blue of his eyes becoming frosty.
“I’ll tell the vicar, Blythe. I thought you liked Mrs. Farthing.” Beatrice looked up at him, puzzled he was so concerned over the state of Melinda’s marriage or the vicar’s feelings. “I know it’s a bit unusual, but I doubt Farthing will care overmuch. Not if you’ve awarded him a decent post.”
“Your Grace.” A hesitation. “Beatrice.” The voice of Lady Foxwood, crisp as a glass of chilled white wine came from behind her.
Beatrice pressed a hand to her stomach, the contents of which had recently settled with Blythe’s presence but now, pitched once more. She’d hoped, foolishly, that Lord and Lady Foxwood might ignore her if they were here. After all, they’d done little else but pretend Beatrice didn’t exist since the carriage accident.
She turned to face her mother, who was garbed in rich purple silk. Diamonds dripped from her throat and wrists, glittering in the muted light. “Lady Foxwood.”
Her mother made a great show of greeting her, pressing a perfumed kiss to Beatrice’s cheek, aware of those watching. “I’ll confess I’m delighted to see you in attendance. I hadn’t thought to see you in town. You’ve preferred the country for so long.” Her voice carried to those listening with rapt attention.
Lady Foxwood fell back, discerning gaze trailing over Beatrice’s hair, the edge of her cheek, and settling on the swath of scarred skin at her neck. “Why, your little tumble healed quite well,” she said in a low voice. “Your father will be so pleased.”
Her little tumble.Lady Foxwood made it sound as if she’d merely tripped on her skirts, not lain screaming beneath a carriage.
