Page 54 of A Bargain with the Rakish Duke
When the final notes of the waltz died down, Kenneth reluctantly released her, his eyes dark with unspoken promises. They made their way back to their friends, but the spell was not entirely broken. Beatrice’s skin still tingled from his touch, her body thrumming with unfulfilled desire.
Catherine and Thomas greeted them with warm smiles, but Beatrice could hardly focus on their words.
The Dowager Duchess’s voice broke through the haze. “You two were wonderful.”
Beatrice managed a smile, her heart still racing. “Thank you, Duchess. It was a lovely dance.”
Kenneth’s hand remained on the small of her back.
As they stood with their friends, Beatrice couldn’t help but feel a sense of longing, wishing they could escape the prying eyes and finish what they had started on the dance floor.
She smiled at Kenneth as she excused herself, taking Catherine’s arm. “We’ll be back shortly,” she said, nodding to Thomas as well.
The two women walked towards the refreshments table, their steps light and quick.
Catherine squeezed Beatrice’s arm affectionately. “It seems you and Kenneth are getting along rather well,” she observed, her voice tinged with curiosity.
Beatrice glanced back at Kenneth, who was deep in conversation with Thomas and Lady Featherwell. A pang of jealousy surged through her as she saw Lady Featherwell lean closer, her flirtatious laughter carrying across the room.
“We are managing,” she replied carefully. “Our marriage is mostly practical, just as our relations are.”
Catherine stopped, looking at her friend with wide eyes. “Practical? What do you mean?”
Beatrice sighed, lowering her voice as they reached the lemonade stand. “We have a… somewhat particular agreement. We satisfy each other’s needs, but there are no expectations beyond that.”
Catherine looked genuinely surprised. “That doesn’t sound like the Beatrice I’ve known all my life. You always dreamed of a love match.”
Beatrice poured them both lemonade, her gaze sweeping over the crowd. “I’ve changed, Catherine. I’ve had to grow up. Life isn’t always what we dream it to be.”
Catherine placed a gentle hand on Beatrice’s arm. “I didn’t mean to insult you. I was just noting the change. Kenneth seems different now too, compared to what he was like when we first met him.”
Beatrice nodded, feeling a pang of guilt about keeping her secret from her friend. “A lot can happen within a year,” she agreed, taking a sip of her lemonade.
Catherine tilted her head slightly, concern evident in her eyes. “I understand that you’re different now, but are you really satisfied with your arrangement with Kenneth?”
Beatrice thought back to the girl she once was, full of dreams about falling in love with a handsome duke.
Her eyes fell on Kenneth, who was still talking to Thomas and Lady Featherwell. She watched as Lady Featherwell laughed, her head tilted back, fanning herself dramatically in Kenneth’s direction. The woman’s hand rested lightly on Kenneth’s arm, her touch lingering longer than necessary.
She recalled the cruel words Lady Featherwell had said after the news of their engagement, warning her that Kenneth would soon tire of her and seek a mistress. The memory of those harsh words stung anew, amplifying her discomfort.
Beatrice clenched her fan tightly, the delicate ribs biting into her palm. Lady Featherwell’s flirtatious behavior was unmistakable, her every move designed to capture Kenneth’s attention.
“Yes, I am fine with it,” Beatrice replied firmly, even as uncertainty gnawed at her.
At that moment, Viscount Eastfold approached them, his face lighting up with a smile. “Your Graces, what a pleasure to see you both.”
Catherine returned his smile before the Dowager Duchess came over to whisk her away. “Catherine, dear, I must introduce you to some of Thomas’s extended family.”
“Of course, grandmamma. If you’ll excuse me, Bea. I’ll be back,” Catherine said and gave Beatrice’s hand a squeeze before following the Dowager Duchess.
Beatrice was now alone with Lord Eastfold.
The Lord turned to Beatrice, his eyes twinkling. “You look enchanting tonight, Your Grace. May I have the honor of the next dance?”
Beatrice glanced towards Kenneth, who was still deep in conversation with Lady Featherwell.
A surge of defiance spurred her decision.
