Page 7 of A Bargain with the Rakish Duke
He forced a smile. “Work at Dunford delayed me, and I found it pointless to join so late.”
“Politeness is not a matter of practicality,” Lady Bernmere pointed out, raising an eyebrow.
“I wish it was,” Kenneth replied, his voice tinged with a hint of frustration.
Lady Bernmere sighed. “Well, let me in. We need to talk.”
Kenneth quickly stepped in front of her, blocking her path. “I am exhausted from the trip, Aunt. I simply need sleep now and would appreciate my privacy. We can talk tomorrow after breakfast.”
Lady Bernmere looked unconvinced, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.
“Kenneth, are you with a mistress? Under the Dowager Duchess’ roof?”
From the corner of his eye, Kenneth saw Beatrice’s eyes flash with anger again. He knew he had to get his aunt to leave before Beatrice spoke up.
“Aunt Marjorie, I truly am just exhausted. Please, we can discuss whatever it is in the morning.”
Lady Bernmere studied him for a moment, clearly not entirely convinced. “Promise me we will talk after breakfast?”
“I promise,” Kenneth said firmly.
He hoped that would convince her.
With one last searching look, Lady Bernmere finally relented. “Very well. Goodnight, Kenneth.”
“Goodnight,” he replied, and relief flooded through him as she turned and walked away.
He closed the door and let out a breath.
Beatrice darted forward and gripped the doorknob.
Kenneth grabbed her wrist. “Are you mad? She will see you in the corridor. Wait until she leaves.”
Beatrice froze, her eyes darting to his hand around her wrist. The warmth of her skin sent an unexpected jolt through him.
They listened intently as Lady Bernmere’s footsteps retreated down the hallway, each step seeming to echo louder in the heavy silence of the room. Kenneth’s breathing was deep and even, contrasting with Beatrice’s rapid, shallow breaths.
He opened the door a crack, his body tense as he peered into the corridor. After a moment, he turned back to Beatrice and nodded. “It is clear. Go now.”
Beatrice did not hesitate. She slipped past him, her skirt brushing against his leg as she moved.
Kenneth watched her hurry down the hallway, her figure a blur of lavender in the dim light.
He began to close the door, the tension in his muscles slowly easing.
But just as the door was nearly shut, he heard a voice call out, “Beatrice?”
Chapter Three
“Mother,” Beatrice said, trying to steady her voice as she turned around.
Her heart was still pounding as she took in her mother; she was standing in the hallway, her expression stern and disapproving.
She noticed the door to the Duke’s room slowly close with a soft click, and she breathed a sigh of relief.
The Dowager Countess looked furious. “Beatrice, where have you been? I have been looking for you ever since you made a spectacle of yourself.”
“I… I got lost,” Beatrice stammered, not entirely lying but far from revealing the whole truth.
