Page 2 of Her Tiger of a Duke
Helena nodded softly, trembling. Beatrice, in part, wished that she could take her friend’s place, and allow Helena to find a love of her own. She was aware that she had not tried to find a husband as hard as she could have, and that thought plagued her. She was a burden to her family, and though her mother swore the contrary she knew the truth. Her father was all too eager to remind her of how many Seasons had elapsed and yet, here she was, without a beau of her own.
“Helena?” Beatrice said, noticing the wretched expression on her dearest friend’s face. “You look almost green.”
“I am rather unwell at the moment,” she explained. “It will pass.”
Her friends looked at one another, clearly not believing a words that she said, but they did not question her any further.
The Everton ball was held the following day, and Beatrice wore a gown of peach silk. It was her favorite, and with the importance of the night she felt it merited a beautiful dress. When she arrived, she looked at the other carriages in the hopes that she would see Helena’s. She did not, meaning that she would have to find her friend inside.
“I cannot believe how late we are,” her father thundered. “They shall have already begun the first dance.”
“The fault is mine,” her mother said softly. “I was helping Beatrice with her gown.”
“Yes, well, she would have had a maid to do that had she done what was expected of her. She has nobody to blame but herself.”
Beatrice pressed backward into her seat, pleased that they were talking about her rather than to her.
They exited the carriage, and Beatrice entered the ballroom to see a host of people on the dance floor. She glanced around the outskirts, but Helena was nowhere in sight, and so she had nobody to speak with immediately.
Then she looked at the throng of people and actively searched for her friend.
Helena was on the arm of a gentleman, and her smile had returned. It was a real one, not the sad one that she had been forced to wear at tea. She was the girl that Beatrice hadbefriended. There was a sharp moment of relief before a knife twisted in Beatrice’s chest at the thought of seeing Helena’s happiness taken away from her abruptly.
The music came to an end, and Helena noticed her, joining her on the outskirts with pink cheeks.
“That was wonderful,” she breathed.
“And the evening has only just begun. Go, dance with any gentleman you like. You are free for now, so make the most of it.”
“As should you,” Helena reminded her, disappearing on another gentleman’s arm.
Beatrice knew that she should listen to her friend, as it had been the same wish that her other friends had for her. Even so, she could not bring herself to speak to any men. She did not want the ridicule that would follow, and she knew that it would. Lady Beatrice Jennings did not have a voice, and that had always been the case.
The day of the wedding came sooner than Beatrice expected, and before she knew it Helena was walking down the aisle in white. She was not happy, far from it, but there was resolve in her eyes. She may not have had a say in her marriage, but she was choosing to go along with it. Beatrice wanted to resign herself to it too, but suddenly there was a flare of anger in her.
Of course, the voiceless Beatrice would watch as her friend gave her life to a stranger. Naturally, she would stand aside, say nothing and allow the imposing gentleman to take her closest companion with him and do with her as he pleased. She could not even speak for herself, so why would she be any different when it came to a friend?
She sat in her place, the rage burning in her chest as the vicar began the ceremony. She looked at the groom, tall with dark hair and eyes that were almost yellow. He looked like a tiger, one ready to pounce, and Beatrice could see the fear in Helena’s eyes. He was not the man for her, and Beatrice wondered why Helena’s father would ever allow the match to take place.
“And if there is anyone here who has a reason as to why these two should not be married,” the vicar said, “speak now, or forever hold your peace.”
Beatrice no longer wanted her peace to be held. She rose from her seat swiftly. All in attendance turned to her, including Helena, who was bright white.
“I object,” she said, louder than she thought she was capable of. “On the ground that she does not love this man.”
CHAPTER 2
Owen knew that something would happen at his wedding.
They had planned for every outcome, but he knew that his life was marred by misfortune, which meant that something would have to go wrong on the biggest day of his life.
What he had not expected, however, was a soft little lady with wild blue eyes to look at him and his bride and say that the match could not go ahead.
The event dissolved into chaos, of course. Regardless of whether the lady’s claim held water, an objection had been made and so the wedding had to be stopped. The guests looked among themselves, nobody knowing quite what to do, and all eyes fell on the lady standing frozen in place.
Suddenly, she ran out of the building. Owen turned to Lady Helena, who followed the peculiar young lady. Not knowingwhat else to do, and grateful for the excuse to leave, he trailed after them.
As he strode purposefully from the church, he saw the shorter lady pressed against the wall, breathing heavily through her tears. Lady Helena was comforting her, which left Owen bewildered. She had ruined the ceremony and caused quite the commotion, yet Lady Helena spoke to her in soft, soothing tones. Owen could not understand why his fiancée was so prepared to make this young lady feel better about being the cause of all their problems.
