Page 69 of The Duke's Vice

Charlotte pushed out a breath and pouted. “Oh fine. Well, if something changed at the garden party, what were you talking about with him?”

Beatrice shrugged. “That’s just it. We barely spoke past the cordial greeting. Then he said he forgot about a meeting and left. It was as if a bee stung him and he ran off.”

“Perhaps one did.” Charlotte said with a chuckle.

“Mama. You’re not helping.”

“It’s hard to help if I don’t know of whom I am talking about.” Charlotte pursed her lips.

Beatrice remained quiet and looked at her mother.

“Fine.” Charlotte sighed. “If you have had spoken to this gentlemen several times in the past, why don’t you write to him?Perhaps there was something that he needed to attend to and he has just forgotten about you.”

Beatrice blinked at her mother. “Thank you, Mama. I feel so much better now.” Beatrice went to stand while her mother pulled her back down.

“Now, Beatrice, you know that’s not what I meant. You are a fascinating young woman and a treasure to anyone who meets you. But life has a way of getting in the way of things. Write to him.” Charlotte grabbed her hand and gave it a little shake. “Refresh his memory of what he’s missing out on.” She winked at her daughter.

Write him a letter.

Why didn’t she think of that? Of course! He had written her when he wanted to see her, why couldn’t she do the same?

It felt as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. “You’re right, Mama. I think I shall do that.” She leaned over and embraced her mother. “Thank you.”

She saw the glimmer of hope in her mother’s eyes. “Mama. I’m just concerned I upset a friend. You would be worrying yourself over a similar situation as well.”

Charlotte opened her mouth but thankfully closed it. “I believe you.”

Beatrice had a sneaking suspicion that Charlotte did not in fact believe her, but she had other things to consider.

She ran to her room and pulled out her paper. She tapped her quill pen on her desk. She wanted to speak plainly, he liked it most when she was brutally honest with him, but considering she felt she wronged him in some way she didn’t want to come off too abrasive.

With a deep breath she settled with a balance of honesty and curiosity. She sealed the letter and handed it to Anne to see that it was delivered. She made Anne swear on her mother’s life that she would not tell Charlotte who the letter was being sent to.

Now that the letter was off being delivered there was nothing left for her to do but wait. Unfortunately for her, she had to wait longer than she cared to.

CHAPTER 19

Beatrice slammed her book shut. It’s been four days since Anne smuggled her letter out of the house and delivered it to Graham’s house. When she didn’t receive a response the day after she told herself he may have needed time to come up with a cheeky response.

When no letter arrived the following day, she convinced herself that he was busy doing important Duke things, like riding, or counting, or doing whatever it was Duke’s did.

The third day came and went and her mother declared her unfit for social events. To her mother’s defense Beatrice admitted to throwing the muffin at her mother when she asked Beatrice to pass to the basket of muffins to her.

Yesterday was one of the longest days of her life. She started the day declaring she absolutely done with the Duke and she was glad he didn’t respond. By lunch she was in tears in her room. The afternoon brought the calm before the storm and she enjoyed a nice walk around her mother’s gardens.

That was until she tripped on a stick and declared war against nature and vowed to seek revenge against the tree that lost it’s branch. She stomped back to her house and went straight up to her room to pace the room long into the night.

Beatrice looked at her reflection. Her head fell into her hands. This was pointless. No matter what she did she couldn’t focus on anything. If she kept losing her temper with everyone her mother may send her to an asylum, and rightfully so.

She looked back up and met her eyes in the mirror. She saw hurt and embarrassment but she something else. The small glimmer of the defiance and rebellion sparking from deep within and Beatrice knew exactly what she needed to do.

Beatrice’s fist pounded on Graham’s door. She took a step back, collecting her thoughts. She knew exactly what she was going to say him, she repeated it to herself on her fast paced walk over here. All she needed know was for someone to open the door.

She knocked again. No answer.

Beatrice leaned over the railing and tried to peer through the sidelight window next to the door. The entryway has dark and empty from what she could see.

“Drat.”

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