Page 42 of Defying the Earl
“Since I’m rather involved in the matter, don’t you think I ought to have been consulted?”
Beatrice blinked, surprised by his vehemence. Her withdrawal was evident even though she didn’t move away from him.
“How could you possibly consider yourself to be involved in this rather personal matter?”
“Since I have been publicly courting you, it would have been nice to know I had competition.”
“Competition?” she asked, clearly appalled by his words but trying to maintain her composure. “I suppose that is why your showing interest in me suddenly made me so much more interesting to others.”
Nathan could see her gaze shift toward her viscount and he cringed. “He’s not the sporting type,” he said scathingly.
“I would consider that a point in his favour if it’s true.”
“Are you doubting my word now?”
Nathan felt as though he had slapped her. He would never do so of course, but the expression that flitted across her face before she quickly schooled her features made him feel like the worst sort of cad. But he couldn’t seem to stop himself. Jealousy was eating his insides and turning him into a beast.
“It really doesn’t matter, does it, Braxton?” she asked quietly while still keeping step perfectly. “You weren’t truly courting me. My decisions or actions don’t really matter to you except perhaps as they might reflect on your aunts. You really are in no position to reprimand me or whatever is happening here.”
“Didn’t you want to have a chance to reject me publicly? Now would be the perfect time.”
“Why court controversy when it’s not necessary? Another possibility has presented itself, why don’t we leave it at that? The end result is the same.”
“So you’ve accepted his offer then?”
She didn’t answer him and they were interrupted by the change of partners. Before he could question her further the dance was over and she managed to avoid him for the rest of the evening.
Nathan went home feeling inexplicably disconsolate, stirring up a fire in his library and trying to settle himself with a glassof his finest brandy. It didn’t do its job. It felt as though nothing would. He was the world’s greatest fool.
Chapter Twenty-One
What a disaster. An unmitigated disaster at that. Beatrice sighed as she settled into the corner of the carriage with her Ladies. The old dears. She would miss them if she did accept Lord Henley’s proposal.
She still hadn’t made up her mind. Lady Frampton had been shockingly furious over the matter until Lottie had calmed her down. It had been Frampton’s idea in the first place that Bea ought to wed so Beatrice couldn’t understand why the older woman hadn’t been happy about the development.
There was nothing questionable or shady about Lord Henley, at least not that anyone had told her about. Of course, she hadn’t known the man for any length of time aside from very peripherally. Having attended Society events for the last four years with the Ladies, Beatrice was distantly familiar with everyone in theton. It was only since Nathan’s fake courtship that she had become far more acquainted with the individual members of Society.
Beatrice didn’t want to think about Nathan. She wasn’t certain what had caused his uncharacteristic behaviour that night. Perhaps it wasn’t really uncharacteristic. What did she know? She felt as though she knew nothing any more.
She sighed. But it was uncharacteristic. She knew Nathan. Was it possible he was jealous? Her heart picked up its pace suddenly and she felt almost faint. Had he thought to make their courtship real as she suspected his aunts had secretly hoped? Asshehad secretly hoped?
She had been an idiot. She ought to have talked to him clearly. But how could she have done so in a crowded ballroom? During a dance that continually separated them? What if she was wrong? But what if she wasn’t wrong? Her heart surged even as she tried to keep her conflict to herself. She couldn’t discuss this with the Ladies. Not until she knew for certain if she could possibly be correct.
Beatrice resolved to confront Nathan in the morning. She would send for him. Or go to him if he wouldn’t come for her. To do so would be to court the greatest scandal of all. But was leaving her happiness to chance better?
Lady Frampton and Lady Charlotte were quietly discussing the ball amongst themselves, seemingly not in the least disturbed by Beatrice’s silence.
“Have you decided what you’re going to tell Viscount Henley when he comes round tomorrow?”
“Not entirely.”
“You could do worse, I suppose,” Lady Frampton answered grudgingly. “He’s rumoured to be plump in the pocket. And even though he has inherited, his father was late marrying so rather long in the tooth to be siring children. He remained healthy for a good long while. That bodes well.”
“That’s a very practical consideration,” Bea replied with a light laugh that sounded forced to her ears, but the Ladies didn’t remark upon it, so perhaps they didn’t even notice.
“But he’s not terribly handsome,” the more romantic Lady Charlotte pointed out. “You do have to think of the children.”
“Beatrice is pretty enough, that’s less of an issue for her to worry about,” Lady Frampton argued, leading Bea to genuine amusement this time.
