Page 23 of A Bargain with the Rakish Duke
Kenneth’s scowl deepened at her display of interest.
Why is he looking at me like that?
A small thrill ran through her at Kenneth’s reaction, even as she endured Lord Hartley’s endless prattling about pupae and metamorphosis.
“The transformation from larva to adult is nothing short of miraculous,” Lord Hartley said, “and the study of their life cycles offers such profound insights into nature’s marvels.”
Beatrice nodded politely, her thoughts far from the entomological details being shared.
She caught Kenneth’s eye once more as he made his way towards the garden. She could only read the frustration in his expression. However, there was something else too, something she could not quite pinpoint again—a combination of emotions that made her senses heighten.
With one final glance, Kenneth stepped out into the cool evening air, leaving Beatrice to navigate the remainder of the dull conversation with Lord Hartley.
As Lord Hartley continued to drone on about the life cycles of insects, Beatrice made noncommittal noises of agreement, wishing she could be one of the twenty-four-hour life insects he mentioned, if only to escape his monotonous lecture.
“Oh, and did you know that some of these insects live for only a single day?” he asked, his tone somehow both excited and condescending. “Imagine such a brief existence!”
“Yes, quite fascinating,” Beatrice murmured, her attention waning.
Just then, Lady Featherwell passed by and ‘accidentally’ stumbled into Beatrice, causing her to spill wine all over her gown. Beatrice gasped as the red liquid spread across the delicate fabric.
“Oh dear, how clumsy of me,” Lady Featherwell said with a fake apologetic smile, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
Lord Hartley, being a fool, stifled a laugh at the sight, clearly finding the incident amusing.
Beatrice clenched her hands into fists at her sides, and she had to fight the urge to slap the smug smile off Lady Featherwell’s face. Instead, she took a deep breath and composed herself.
“It is quite all right, Lady Featherwell,” she said evenly. “Excuse me, I need to change.”
She turned and walked away, her steps measured despite the burning humiliation she felt. As she made her way upstairs, she was cornered by her mother in a quiet corridor.
“Utterly useless!” Lady Afferton hissed. “You cannot converse with any gentleman like a proper lady, and now, the Duke is leaving before you have had a chance to secure his attention. You have made a fool of yourself twice tonight.”
“Mother, Lady Featherwell did it on purpose,” Beatrice protested, trying to keep her voice steady.
“Don’t give me excuses!” her mother snapped. “You are a terrible daughter. You don’t care about this family. Unlike Patrick, who was unfairly shunned by Society yet still sends us money because he cares so deeply.” The final blow came with a sneer. “I wish it had been you who went away instead of Patrick.”
Beatrice felt a surge of emotion she could no longer contain.
“Your son? Your son, whoassaultedmy friend?” she retorted, her voice shaking with anger and hurt. “You want to know the truth about your son? Patrick has squandered our fortune abroad on gambling and mistresses. He has not sent us any money or letters for months. I have been the one caring for this family, not him.”
Lady Afferton’s eyes widened in shock and then narrowed in anger. “How dare you speak to me like that? Patrick is the only one who understands the burden of this family’s legacy. You, on the other hand, are a disappointment. Always making excuses, never taking responsibility.”
“Taking responsibility?” Beatrice’s voice rose. “I’ve been the one holding this family together while Patrick squanders our resources. I’ve sacrificed my happiness, my future, to ensure we survive. And all you do is criticize and belittle me.”
“I am tired of your excuses, Beatrice,” Lady Afferton snapped back. “If you had done your duty properly and found a husband, we wouldn’t be in this mess. Patrick is doing everything he can to help us from afar. We are lucky he sends us money.”
“He doesn’t send us anything!” Beatrice growled, her control slipping. “Everything you think he’s done is a lie. He’s abandoned us, and I’ve been the one picking up the pieces.”
Lady Afferton recoiled as if struck. “You… you’re lying. You? Picking up the pieces? Don’t be ridiculous, Beatrice.”
“I wish I were,” Beatrice said, her voice breaking. “But I’m not. I’ve been the one sacrificing, the one struggling, while you put your faith in a son who doesn’t care about us. I won’t let you belittle me anymore. I’ve done everything I can for this family, and I won’t be your scapegoat any longer.”
Lady Afferton’s face twisted with rage. “How dare you speak to me this way? You ungrateful child! Everything I have done is for this family, and you repay me with insolence? I will not stand here and listen to you speak ill of your brother. He is a good son, and he would never abandon his family.”
Beatrice took a step back, her own anger boiling over.
“Everything you have done is to keep up appearances! You care more about what Society thinks than the well-being of your own children. I will not be your pawn any longer.”
