Page 84 of The Duke's Vice

He removed them as gently as he could. “As if we needed any more proof that I am not the man for you this night should have quelled that need.”

He watched as the realization settled within her. He dropped his gaze, he couldn’t bear to see her hurt any more.

Beatrice looked back to the veranda then back to him. She pointed to the ball. “If I go back in there, that’s it. This,” her finger wagged between them, “whatever this is between us is over.”

Graham nodded as he cleared his throat. “As it should be.” He nodded towards the ballroom. “Go on. I’m sure Duncary is wondering where you are.”

Beatrice took another breath and turned. Her steps started slow but quickened in time. He watched with his heart in his throat as she began to run back towards the ballroom.

He was right. He did this for her. She’ll see that in time, she had to. Their situation got away from both of them. Hell, Frederic was right. But, now it’s done. She’ll marry Duncary, and he’ll go on with his life.

So why was he still staring at the door to the ball room wanting to go back in and carry her out over his shoulder?

CHAPTER 22

“Is everything suitable to your needs, Lady Beatrice?”

Amos’s question brought Beatrice’s attention back from her wondering. She looked down at the tea cup in her hand. It took every ounce of strength she had to get out of the house this morning and accept the invitation for tea.

If it weren’t for her mother and Candace constantly pushing her to get out she would still be stuck in her room, wallowing in self pity.

“Oh yes, Lord Duncary, everything is most pleasant.” She forced out. “Thank you for inviting my mother and I over for tea.” Her eyes drifted to the charming parlor. “You have a lovely home.”

A soft smile graced Amos’s lips as he took in his parlor. “Thank you. I spend a lot of time traveling and I like to bring a little piece of the world with me when I return. It also helps calm me whenI start to get that itch to travel again. If timing isn’t right, I can come in here and the memories of past travels soothe me.”

Charlotte sighed contently. “That is a wonderful sentiment, isn’t it Beatrice?” Her weighty question forced Beatrice to look her way. Her mother’s eyes were pleading with hers to engage in the conversation.

Beatrice nodded silently as her eyes fell to a small bowl with gold lines threaded throughout it.

“It is.” Her head nodded to the bowl. “That is a beautiful bowl. Where is it from?”

Amos’s eyes lit up. “You have a good eye, Lady Beatrice. That is one of my favorites.” He stood and walked over to the bowl. He picked it up and handed it to her, ever so carefully.

“I got it from my travels to Japan. It is a remarkable tradition of Kintsugi, the art of using gold to fix broken things. The belief behind the practice is that nothing is truly broken and sometimes, in fixing it, the object can actually become more valuable and unique.”

Beatrice traced the lines of gold that ran across the porcelain. The ancient practice was right. While it was a beautiful bowl to begin with, the connecting lines of gold added depth and meaning to an otherwise normal looking bowl.

She lifted her eyes to Amos. “That is beautiful.”

Amos lowered his eyes and cleared his throat as he took the bowl back from Beatrice. “Would you like to talk a walk, Lady Beatrice? It’s a pleasant day and I would love to show you the gardens. They don’t rival your mother’s or sisters, as it’s just me here, but I find solace in them when I am down.”

Beatrice rolled her lips. “You are very astute, Lord Dunary. I apologize, I seem to carry an air of melancholy wherever I go these days.”

Charlotte bristled and groaned to herself. “Beatrice.” She muttered.

Amos waved her mother’s worry off. “No need to apologize, Lady Beatrice. We all have those days. Fresh air can help. If you don’t mind I would love to test that theory with you.”

He extended his hand in such a gentle manner Beatrice couldn’t help but take the offered hand.

“How kind of you to understand, Lord Duncary. I would love to take a walk.”

“Amos.” He supplied.

Beatrice looked up quizzically. “Hmm?”

“Amos. I would be honored if you called me by my given name.”

Beatrice smiled. “Amos.”

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