Page 8 of A Bargain with the Rakish Duke
Her mother seized her arm with a vice-like grip, dragging her down the corridor. “You got lost? How could you be so careless?Do you have any idea how much embarrassment you have caused me?”
Beatrice kept her head down, murmuring apologies. “I am sorry, Mother. I did not mean to…”
“Of course, you did not mean to,” Prudence snapped. “You never mean to. You need to think, Beatrice. We are here to secure a match for you, not to create more scandal.”
They ascended another flight of stairs, the harsh light of the sconces casting unforgiving shadows on the walls. Beatrice’s relief that her mother had not seen her come out of the Duke’s room kept her silent. She knew defending herself would only make things worse.
When they finally reached the rooms assigned to them, Prudence released her daughter’s arm.
“Get some rest,” she said sharply. “And try not to cause any more trouble.”
“Yes, Mother,” Beatrice whispered, watching as her mother disappeared into her own room.
Beatrice slipped into her bedchamber, closing the door behind her and leaning against it for a moment.
The familiar, comforting scent of lavender greeted her, and she took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart.
“Lady Beatrice, there you are,” came the soft, soothing voice of her maid, Alice.
Alice was in her late twenties with warm brown eyes and a gentle demeanor that had always been a balm to Beatrice’s troubled soul. She had been with the family for years and was one of the few people Beatrice could truly confide in.
Alice helped her out of her gown, her movements calm and efficient.
“How was the evening, My Lady?” she asked, a hint of curiosity in her voice.
Beatrice shrugged. “It was… uneventful.”
Alice chattered on, her voice a comforting murmur. “You looked absolutely stunning tonight. Undoubtedly, the belle of the ball. All eyes were on you.”
Beatrice smiled weakly, her mind replaying the evening’s events. “Thank you, Alice. They were but not because of my gown.”
Alice continued, unaware of Beatrice’s inner turmoil. “I overheard some of the other lady’s maids talking. They were all quite envious of your beauty. And your gown! It was simply exquisite.”
As Alice helped her prepare for bed, Beatrice’s thoughts swirled. The evening had been far from a success. She had nearly ruinedher family’s already fragile reputation and found herself in a situation that could have been disastrous. The memory of the Duke’s piercing blue eyes and the tension between them was still vivid in her mind.
Once she was finally in bed, Alice lowered the wick on the lantern and gave her a reassuring smile. “Goodnight, My Lady. Tomorrow is a new day.”
“Goodnight, Alice,” Beatrice replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
As she lay there, staring at the ceiling, she could not shake the feeling that her encounter with the Duke of Dunford was only the beginning of something far more complicated.
How am I going to face him tomorrow?
Embarrassment flooded her cheeks once more.
The next morning, Beatrice descended the grand staircase to the dining room where breakfast was being served.
Long tables were covered in white linens, adorned with silver dishes of eggs, bacon, sausages, breads, and pastries.
She wore a pale blue muslin morning dress, trimmed with delicate lace at the cuffs and neckline. Her hair was styled simplywith soft, loose curls framing her face, a few secured with a pearl comb.
Her mother had insisted on the simplicity of the outfit, reminding her that she was here to secure a husband and that she must appear both demure and desirable.
As Beatrice took her seat beside her mother, Prudence leaned in, her voice a harsh whisper. “Remember, Beatrice, stay out of trouble. You do not want to ruin your chances any further.”
Beatrice nodded though her mind was elsewhere, preoccupied with the events of the previous night and her encounter with the Duke of Dunford. She could still feel the lingering tension, his hand gripping her wrist, his eyes boring into hers.
The dining room buzzed with the quiet chatter of other guests, all dressed in their finest morning attire. Gentlemen in tailored coats and cravats, ladies in colorful morning gowns, their hair covered with delicate bonnets or styled in intricate fashions. Footmen moved silently around the room, refilling cups and replenishing dishes with practiced ease.
