Page 14 of A Bargain with the Rakish Duke
For a split second, she saw the Duke glance down at her lips. Her heart skipped a beat, her limbs tingling with a vibrant yet dark excitement she’d never experienced before.
It was desire. Hungry, ravenous desire.
“I look forward to seeing both of you at dinner,” Kenneth said curtly, bowing gracefully before turning to leave.
Beatrice watched him go, her thoughts racing.
Did I offend him?
She replayed their conversation in her mind, searching for any hint of displeasure on his part.
He was nothing like the man from the night before, the man who spoke about desire… and its fulfillment. Still, to know he was so well-versed in art did little to satiate her curiosity.
The Dowager Duchess chuckled. “He needs a bit of scolding about his manners, I’m afraid. But he has quite an eye for art. His family’s gallery is one of the most renowned in England, and he has added quite a few remarkable pieces to their collection.”
Beatrice’s expression softened slightly, considering the Dowager Duchess’s words.
“Perhaps I was too hasty in my opinions,” she murmured though she remained unsure.
The Duke had a way of provoking her, but perhaps there was more to him than met the eye.
“Give him time, my dear,” the Dowager Duchess said kindly. “You might find that there is much to admire beneath that stern exterior.”
Beatrice nodded, taking a deep breath. “Thank you, Your Grace. I shall keep that in mind.”
“Good,” the Dowager Duchess said with a nod. “Now, let’s continue our tour. I believe there are a few more pieces that might catch your interest.”
The gallery faded into the background as Beatrice’s mind raced with thoughts of the enigmatic Duke of Dunford, contemplating what future encounters would bring.
Chapter Five
“Beatrice, you must participate. Standing on the sidelines does nothing for your prospects,” Prudence insisted, her voice low but firm.
Beatrice stood on the manicured lawn, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows on the green expanse. The air was filled with the sounds of laughter and the gentle clink of mallets striking balls.
Pall Mall was the game of the hour, and while Beatrice had hoped to simply observe, her mother had other plans.
“Mother, I am not skilled at this game. I would rather not make a fool of myself,” Beatrice replied, trying to keep the frustration out of her voice.
“Nonsense,” Prudence said, her eyes narrowing. “Viscount Haddington is here, and you must make a good impression. He is fabulously wealthy and would be an excellent match.”
Beatrice sighed inwardly. Viscount Haddington, a man with a rabbit face and an arrogant air, was not someone she found remotely appealing.
She overheard him speaking to another player nearby and could only wince as his pompous tone grated on her nerves.
“You see, Lady Smythe, the only way to truly appreciate a fine wine is to have an extensive collection of your own,” Lord Haddington declared, his tone dripping with self-importance. “Of course, not everyone can afford such luxuries. It requires a certain level of sophistication and, naturally, wealth.”
Lady Smythe nodded politely though her eyes seemed to glaze over as the Viscount continued his monologue.
“And then there’s the matter of proper estate management,” he went on. “I’ve always maintained that only those with a keen intellect and a firm hand can truly succeed. Lesser men simply do not possess the necessary attributes.”
Beatrice could barely suppress a groan.
The Viscount’s incessant need to assert his superiority and his complete disregard for the thoughts or interests of others made him profoundly unappealing. His conversation was a relentless monologue about his own accomplishments, interspersed with patronizing remarks about the inferiority of others.
But she understood her duty to her family. She needed a good match to secure their future, and her feelings had little bearing on that necessity.
“Very well, Mother,” she relented, forcing a smile. “I will play.”
