A Scandalous Bargain Page 7

  “That would be lovely,” she said, trying not to grit her teeth.

  Maybe this would be fine. She could get to know him. Hopefully he wasn’t interested in her romantically. But why else would he ask to be introduced to her?

  He offered his arm, and Beatrix went with him to the dance floor. “I understand this is your first time at Almack’s.”

  “Yes. This is my first Season in London.”

  “You are most fortunate. Many people are never awarded a voucher.”

  “So I’ve heard. And you must be an exceptional dancer, for I’ve heard that is the easiest way for a gentleman to get one.”

  He barked out a laugh. “You’re a saucy one! I think you just suggested I couldn’t get one on my own merits.”

  Oh dear, she rather had. Wasn’t that a good thing? If he thought her rude, he wouldn’t be interested in her. “It’s my understanding that merit has nothing to do with who’s invited.” She lowered her voice. “Whether one of the patronesses likes you is far more important.” She glanced toward the dais where the patronesses held court and lorded over the attendees. “Which one likes you?”

  He laughed again. “I’m not entirely certain, but right now, I only care if you like me. What a captivating woman you are.”

  Damn, she hadn’t meant to be captivating. Not to him, anyway. The music began, and she did her best throughout the set to step on his toes and be a generally bad dancer. Fleetingly, she wondered if her voucher could be revoked. Did she even care? Almack’s might be the place to be and be seen, but so far, she wasn’t impressed.

  When the set was finished, he guided her from the dance floor. “My, but you’re an…exuberant dancer,” he said.

  Beatrix nearly smiled. She was beginning to like him, and with that realization came a desire to forge an actual sibling relationship.

  “Thank you, I do try. Do you come to Almack’s every week?” she asked.

  “Not every week, no. My father hopes I will wed this Season.”

  “Your father is the Duke of Ramsgate?”

  He nodded.

  “Is he here this evening?” Beatrix hadn’t seen him, but perhaps he’d been hiding in an alcove.

  “No, Father has no need to come. Though, he has threatened to attend and ensure I am making good use of my time.” Worth rolled his eyes.

  “Why is he so eager for you to wed?” Beatrix wanted to know all she could about her father.

  “By my age, he was married with an heir.”

  “And what age is that?”

  “Twenty-nine.” He looked at her askance. “You are full of questions.”

  She lifted a shoulder. “How else can we get to know each other?” As soon as she said it, she wished she hadn’t. There was a distinct gleam of satisfaction in his gaze.

  Worth was twenty-nine? That was about the age her father had taken Beatrix’s mother as his mistress. Beatrix wondered if Worth was aware of that.

  “My turn for a question,” he said, stopping and turning toward her. “How many suitors do you have?”

  “Er, none.”

  He smiled. “How fortunate for me.”

  Bloody hell. “I’m not certain I’m ready for marriage this Season.”

  His brow pleated. “Then why bother with any of this?”

  “Because it’s entertaining and…educational? How can one determine if they are ready for marriage if they don’t get out and meet people?”

  “I suppose that’s true. Be careful, however. Young ladies who aren’t successfully wed within a Season or two are often judged a failure.”

  She pursed her lips at him. “And how many Seasons have you participated in without becoming betrothed?”

  He laughed again. “You are utterly delightful!” He continued taking her back toward Selina. “May I call on you?”

  Beatrix swore to herself again. “Yes, I suppose you may. I can’t imagine your father would approve, however. I’m not from a titled family like you.” Hopefully, that would deter him.

  “But your sister is Lady Gresham, and she is marrying the son of the Earl of Aylesbury. And you did get a voucher to Almack’s. You would almost certainly pass his inspection.”

  A laugh gathered in Beatrix’s throat, but she coughed instead. Perhaps she should just tell him the truth.

  Thankfully, they arrived at Selina. Beatrix withdrew her hand from his arm. “Thank you for the dance, my lord.”

  “Please, call me Worth.”

  The name brought to mind the word worthy and the fact that he was worthy and Beatrix was not. She gave him a tight smile. “Thank you, Worth.”

  He bowed to her and to Selina, then took his leave.

  “Can we go yet?” Beatrix asked, turning toward Selina.

  “It’s scarcely one o’clock,” Selina said, blinking. “That’s early, from what I understand. But we can certainly go. Goodness knows I’m bored.”

  Beatrix finally let out the laugh that she’d kept trapped inside. “Then let us depart.”

  They’d borrowed a coach from Rafe for the evening, and once they were settled inside, Selina kicked off her slippers. “I’ve decided it’s nice to have a wealthy brother.”

  “I’m so glad.”

  When Selina had been reunited with him a few weeks ago, Rafe had offered support, but she’d declined. After so many years on their own, it was difficult for Selina to accept help. Especially when she’d felt abandoned by her brother. He’d taken her to the boarding school when she was eleven and had stopped writing to her after a while. Like Beatrix, she’d felt utterly forgotten. In Rafe’s case, however, he’d been trying to keep her safe. He didn’t want her returning to her old life in London or to him. But now that he had reinvented himself as a prosperous gentleman away from crime, they had reestablished their sibling relationship. Beatrix hoped for the same with her father.

  “That doesn’t mean it’s easy allowing him to pay for things,” Selina said. “I hate that, actually.”

  “I know,” Beatrix said softly. “But there’s no reason not to. Our lives have completely changed. You’re getting married. You’re in love. You’re secure.”

  Selina turned her head toward Beatrix beside her and reached for her hand. “You’re secure too. Always and forever. I will never abandon you.”

  Beatrix gave Selina’s fingers a quick squeeze before letting her go and putting her hand down at her side. There was something in the pocket of her dress, she realized. A flash of alarm sparked through her. Had she taken something? She couldn’t investigate it now.

  “So how was your dance with your half brother?” Selina asked. “It looked as if you were struggling.”

  “On purpose. I was trying to deter his interest.”

  “Did it work?”

  Beatrix exhaled with disappointment. “I don’t think so. He asked if he could call on me.” She shot Selina a disgruntled look. “Can you imagine anything worse than being courted by your half brother?”

  Selina laughed. Eyes dancing, she clapped her hand over her mouth. After a moment, she lowered her hand to her lap. “I can think of worse things, actually, but that would still be rather unpleasant. What do you plan to do?”

  “Continue to deter him?” Beatrix lifted her hands and shrugged. “What can I do? Tell him we share a father?”

  “Will you? If it comes to that, I mean.”

  “I don’t know. I suppose I’ll have to see what happens when I finally meet my father.”

  “Well, you’ll meet him on Friday at the masquerade. Hopefully, you will have a private interview shortly thereafter.”

  “Yes, then I can determine how I will go on.” This entire journey to London to have a Season had been for Beatrix to reconnect with her father and forge a future. She just wasn’t sure what that future looked like.

  “Did you like any of the other gentlemen you danced with?” Selina asked. “The Earl of Daventry seemed nice.”

  “He was.” Except the only man that came to Beatrix’s mind was Rockbourne. She d
esperately wanted to tell him how tonight had gone. Because he’d asked and was clearly interested. And since he knew who her father was, she could tell him about the awkward interlude with Worth.

  When they arrived at home, Beatrix quickly went upstairs to her room to discover what she’d stolen.

  Alone in her chamber, she removed her gloves and kicked her slippers off. She reached into her pocket and withdrew a small, oval, silver snuffbox. She ran her thumb over the design on the top—a stamped, diamond-shaped pattern—then turned it over looking for any identifying marks such as initials. There were none. And she had no idea from whom she’d taken it.

  Scowling, she closed her hand around the object and stalked to her dresser. Crouching down, she opened the bottom drawer and reached into the back, where she’d put a piece of wood as a false backing. Pulling that out of the way, she located the wooden box and extracted it from the drawer.

  She sat on the floor, her skirts billowing around her as she put the simple oak box on her lap. About five inches wide and five inches tall, it provided the perfect place for Beatrix to stash the objects she’d stolen without realizing.

  Opening the lid, she gazed at the collection of odds and ends. There was jewelry, writing implements, silverware, and now a snuffbox. The items were familiar to her now, but each one had been a mystery as to where she’d gotten it and to whom it truly belonged.

  Not quite all of them were familiar. She put the silver snuffbox inside and picked up the last thing she’d added—an ivory-handled penknife with the initials DC carved into an intricate design.

  Beatrix set the knife back into the box and frowned at the contents. Why was she keeping all this?

  A light knock on her door made her slam the box closed and thrust it back into the dresser. She shut the drawer and got to her feet. “Come in.”

  Selina slipped inside, closing the door behind her. “I thought you might need help with your gown.”

  Of course. They didn’t have a lady’s maid. “Yes, thank you.” She presented her back to Selina, who unbuttoned the garment.

  “Are you all right?” Selina asked. “You came upstairs so quickly.”

  “I just wanted to change out of this gown.” But had apparently forgotten to request assistance.

  “Are you disappointed your father wasn’t there tonight?”

  Beatrix pulled her arms from the sleeves. “A little.”

  Selina helped pull the gown over Beatrix’s head. Turning, Selina took it to the armoire. “Now that I’m to be married, I can imagine you want to map your own future.”

  Beatrix supposed that was true. “I’m not concerned, if that’s what you’re wondering. Things will work out.”

  “You’ve always been so optimistic.” Selina smiled warmly. “It’s one of the things I love most about you. And it kept me from becoming too lost.”

  Beatrix thought of what Rockbourne had said—that he needed people like her in his life. She suddenly wanted Selina to leave.

  “I wanted to ask you about Rockbourne,” Selina said.

  Freezing, Beatrix wondered how Selina had managed to read her mind.

  Selina untied the petticoat at the back of Beatrix’s waist. “You seemed interested in him the other day.”

  “I wasn’t—not specifically.” Beatrix stepped out of the petticoat, and Selina took it in hand. “I suppose I just found his story fascinating.”

  Selina walked the petticoat to the armoire too. “Harry told me Bow Street is investigating his wife’s death.”

  Beatrix’s fingers fumbled as she unlaced her stays. Giving up before she finished, she went to sit at her dressing table. “Why would they investigate?”

  “Apparently, his mother-in-law thinks Rockbourne may have pushed his wife from the balcony.” Selina’s eyes met Beatrix’s in the mirror. “You mustn’t share this information of course. But then, we aren’t gossips.”

  “Of course not.” Beatrix’s heart was racing. She had to see him. Tonight. She pretended to yawn. “I’m glad we came home. I’m quite fatigued.” She turned on the stool and smiled at Selina. “You don’t need to linger. Isn’t Harry waiting for you?”

  Selina blushed. “No. I told him we’d be late.”

  “So he’s not coming?” Beatrix would prefer if her sister was distracted.

  “No, he is.” She blushed even harder.

  Beatrix laughed softly. “I love seeing you in love.”

  “Thank you.” There was an edge of sisterly sarcasm to her tone. She blew Beatrix a kiss and said good night.

  As soon as Selina was gone, Beatrix leapt up and changed her attire. A short while later, she slipped out of the house and made her way to Grosvenor Square.

  Chapter 5

  Half past two. She was probably still dancing.

  Thomas set his empty glass on the sideboard. He was tempted to pour another, but he ought to turn in. It wasn’t as if she would come. He’d told her it would be too late, and it was.

  Still, he could see her in his mind, her blonde locks curling about her face with ribbons and silk flowers entwined in the style atop her head. Her ivory gown was trimmed with lace and dark coral ribbon that matched those in her hair. The costume was simple but elegant, allowing her beauty to shine instead of the garments and accessories.

  He’d stood in the shadows nearby and watched her enter the assembly rooms. It was as close as he could get in his current state of mourning, and he was grateful for the glimpse. He’d lingered for a while before returning home. Since then, he’d imagined her laughing and dancing, captivating every gentleman at Almack’s. How he envied them.

  Blowing out a breath of frustration, he turned toward his chamber. The soft snick of a door drew his head around.

  A black-clad figure stood just inside the sitting room. If he didn’t know better, he would have been concerned. Instead, he pivoted, unable to keep from grinning.

  She swept her hat off and set it on the writing desk as she’d done on her last visit. “I know you said it would be too late, but I had to come.” She cast off her gloves as well, setting them atop her hat.

  “It is late, but not as late as I thought it would be. Miss Whitford, you should still be at the ball.”

  “It was so boring.” She waved her hand and strode toward him. “And do call me Beatrix. It’s past time. I heard Bow Street is investigating you. You must tell me everything.” She took him by the hand and pulled him to the settee.

  She sat, and he squeezed in beside her, pleased she’d chosen to sit with him here.

  Angling herself toward him, she stared at him expectantly. “Well? Why didn’t you tell me Bow Street was conducting an inquiry?”

  He stifled the urge to laugh. He adored her enthusiasm. “Do you wish to hear about it, or would you rather I answer that question first?”

  “Both.” She clasped her hands in her lap. “Tell me about the inquiry.”

  “The other question is simpler. I didn’t mention it because I haven’t seen you. Furthermore, there isn’t much to share. Two constables came to interview me and the entire household on Friday.”

  Her hazel eyes rounded. “The entire household? You didn’t let them speak to Regan?”

  That she had the same reaction he’d had and with apparently the same affront made him want to kiss her.

  It did?

  Many things made him want to kiss her.

  “Of course not. They wanted to speak to her nurse, but she was too busy with Regan and I refused to let them speak to her when Regan was present.”

  Beatrix flattened her palms on her lap and leaned slightly toward him. “What did they ask you?”

  Distracted by her spicy floral scent, he had to think about her question. “Ask me? Ah, they asked what happened that night.” Dammit, he didn’t want to talk about that. He wanted to ask her about Almack’s.

  She narrowed her eyes at him briefly. “You seem rather unconcerned.”

  He put his arm along the back of the settee. “Sheffield said it was
a formality.”

  “Harry was one of the constables who came?”

  “Yes. He accompanied the lead investigator—a young man called Dearborn.”

  “I don’t know him, but I’ll find out what I can.”

  “There’s no need. As I said, the inquiry is a formality. My mother-in-law is causing trouble, that’s all.” His hand was close to her head. Her hair was still dressed as it had been for the ball, though the ribbon and flowers were gone. He could almost touch her curls. Or her cheek. Or the slope of her neck. His fingers twitched with want.

  “Why would she do that?”

  Thomas was having a hard time keeping his focus on the conversation. He didn’t want to talk about his mother-in-law—ex-mother-in-law—or his deceased wife. “Because she’s upset that her daughter died, and she dislikes me.”

  “So she wants to blame you for her death? That’s awful.”

  “I’ve survived worse.”

  She studied him, her gaze inquisitive. “Such as what?”

  Hell. He hadn’t meant to open up that line of discussion. “Her daughter. I promise you, living with Thea was much, much worse.”

  Beatrix’s features softened. “I hate hearing that.” She reached over and touched the hand that rested on his thigh.

  The contact jolted through him—and perhaps through her as well. Her gaze lifted to his and that connection was just as potent.

  “She’s gone now,” he managed to say.

  “Yes. It must be a…relief.”

  He expended great effort to not twine his fingers with hers. “I shouldn’t say so, but it is.”

  “Anything you tell me will be kept secret. We have a bargain, remember?” Her fingers moved across the back of his hand, sending sparks of heat up his arm and into his chest. They spread lower, stoking a long-buried desire. He should get up and put some distance between them. Instead, he let his hand glide a bit lower on the back of the settee toward her neck.

  “And anything you tell me will be treated the same,” he said. “Why did you find Almack’s boring?”

  “Haven’t you been before?”