Page 55 of A Bargain with the Rakish Duke
“I would be delighted, Lord Eastfold.”
As they moved to the dance floor, Lord Eastfold took her hand, leading her into the waltz. His grip was firm but gentle, and he guided her expertly through the steps.
“You seem to be enjoying the ball,” he remarked, his gaze warm and appreciative.
Beatrice nodded, her eyes briefly meeting Kenneth’s across the room before she quickly looked away. “It’s a lovely event,” she replied, focusing on the rhythm of the dance, pretending not to notice his gaze burning into her.
“Indeed, it is,” Eastfold agreed, his eyes twinkling with warmth. “And might I say, Your Grace, you look particularly stunning this evening. That gown suits you beautifully.”
Beatrice felt a blush rise to her cheeks at the compliment. “Thank you, My Lord. You’re too kind.”
Eastfold chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “Not at all, Your Grace. I’m merely stating the truth. I’m sure I’m not the only one who has noticed your radiance tonight.”
Beatrice smiled politely, unsure how to respond to such flattery.
Her mind flashed back to Kenneth’s flare of jealousy the last time Lord Eastfold had flirted with her, a reminder of the tension it had caused.
She glanced around the room, searching for a safer topic of conversation. Her eyes landed on a large painting hanging on the far wall, depicting a serene landscape.
“I must say, Lord Eastfold, the artwork in this ballroom is quite impressive. Have you had a chance to admire it?” she asked, hoping to steer the conversation in a more neutral direction.
Eastfold followed her gaze, his expression brightening with interest. “Ah, yes. It is a fine collection. I particularly admire the use of light in that landscape. It’s quite masterful.”
Beatrice nodded. “I couldn’t agree more. The artist has captured the essence of the scene beautifully.”
“You have a remarkable understanding of art, Your Grace,” Eastfold commented, his admiration evident.
“Thank you, My Lord. Art has always been a passion of mine,” Beatrice replied, her smile genuine.
“As it should be,” Eastfold said warmly. “There’s something truly magnificent about a piece that captures the essence of its subject.”
Beatrice’s smile widened, but then the conversation took a more practical turn.
“However, not all pieces of art hold the same value. The true worth lies in their potential as an investment. The right piece can bring in a substantial profit if sold to the right buyer.”
Beatrice’s smile faltered. “You see art primarily as a commodity, then?” she asked, trying to mask her disappointment.
Eastfold nodded, oblivious to her dismay. “Indeed. It’s all about knowing the market and seizing opportunities. A well-timed sale can make all the difference.”
Beatrice’s eyes narrowed slightly though her tone remained polite. “But isn’t the true value of art found in its ability to evoke emotion and inspire? To capture the beauty of a moment and connect with the soul of the viewer?”
Eastfold chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “You have a romantic view, Your Grace, but the world is moved by money more than beauty. Art that doesn’t sell is simply a pretty picture collecting dust. The greatest masterpieces are those that fetch the highest price.”
Beatrice’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Is that why you’re so eager to discover more about Westback? Because you see potential profit in his work?”
Eastfold nodded without hesitation. “Yes, precisely. Westback’s growing reputation makes his pieces a valuable investment. Uncovering his identity could be quite advantageous.”
Beatrice felt a wave of disillusionment wash over her. She had always viewed art as a form of expression, a way to capture and convey the essence of the human experience. Hearing Eastfold reduce it to mere financial transactions was disheartening.
Despite her disillusionment, she kept her thoughts to herself. She didn’t want to let Kenneth see how much Eastfold’s words had affected her. Instead, she used this moment to get back at Kenneth, who was still watching them intently.
“I see,” she replied lightly. “It’s an interesting perspective.”
As the dance came to an end, Eastfold led her back to the edge of the dance floor. “I hope we can share another dance later, Your Grace,” he suggested, his hand lingering on hers.
Beatrice curtsied politely, her smile barely reaching her eyes.
“Perhaps, My Lord,” she said before turning and walking away.
