Page 8 of Her Tiger of a Duke
Owen was certain that he would be a better husband to Lady Beatrice than that man had been as a father, but of course he did not say that. It was not the correct thing for one to say to his father-in-law.
All the same, he did not particularly like Lord Jennings. From what Owen knew of him, he was not liked among thetonbut given his fortune he was respected. Owen wondered, for a moment, if said fortune would mean that Lady Beatrice would have a decent dowry, but he shook the thought from his mind. He did not need the money, and he would ensure that she was taken care of regardless of it.
They both returned to the drawing room, Lady Beatrice looking at him with wide eyes. It seemed as though she had not believed him before, but suddenly she had realized the truth of the matter. There was nothing that could be done now.
They would be married.
“I have brought this for you,” he explained, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small box and handing it to her.
She opened it, and her mother gasped beside her. It was his mother’s engagement ring, small but with a large sapphire in the center. She slid it onto her finger uncertainly, and it fit.
“No alterations needed, then,” he nodded. “Good. I shall have the ceremony arranged for in a week’s time.”
He turned to leave, but Lady Jennings called him back. He had hoped to spend his day organizing the event, but he wished to be polite and so he turned around once more.
“Might you have time to promenade with my daughter?” she asked. “It would be prudent, for a sudden engagement might not be looked kindly upon, given the circumstances.”
“If Lady Beatrice is amenable, then I do not take issue with it.”
In an instant, Lady Beatrice removed the ring as if it was burning her, and she walked out of the door, gesturing for him to follow her. They left the household with a maid in tow, boarding a carriage hastily and leaving for Hyde Park. Once the carriage pulled away, she exhaled deeply, her hand on her chest and her cheeks flushed.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I believe so. My apologies. I am not usually like this, but I was terrified of my father there. He is furious with me for what I did– which of course he has every right to be, and–”
“Why were you frightened? What did you think he would do?” he interrupted, causing her to quickly fall silent.
“He… well, he is as good of a father to me as I could ask for. Given my reluctance to mingle with Society, he has been very understanding. It is my own fault for not doing my duty and marrying when I was younger.”
“Spinster or not, it is his duty to protect and care for you. He did not seem very happy to be in charge of your well-being at all.”
Lady Beatrice’s brow furrowed. “What did he say to you?”
Owen dismissed the question with a derisive snort. “Nothing of consequence. But I got the feeling that he was surprised to see someone…anyone…ask for your hand.”
“Well, it is not as though I have made it easy for him,” she laughed sadly. “I was never the right daughter, I suppose. While the other ladies were practicing their piano forte and mastering their watercolors, I was hiding away in the kitchens. I have always been happier there than anywhere else.”
“Then you shall be happy to know that mine are vast, and as well-equipped as they can be. You will enjoy spending time in them.”
She tilted her head to one side in disbelief.
“You do not mind that I spend my time in the kitchen?”
“Certainly not. All ladies must have a hobby and cooking is interesting. I would much rather be presented with food than linger around an instrument smiling and pretending to enjoy it.”
She softened, and he liked the faint smile she had. She was a very pretty lady, though she lacked confidence, except when interrupting the wedding ceremony. Their carriage halted, and as he reached out to help her down, he noticed her hesitation.
“Is everything all right?”
“Yes, of course, but I prefer to help myself down.”
“In that case, I will not provide any assistance.”
He watched as she mulled over that option.
Owen did his best to stifle a dry laugh at the disconcerted expression on her face. “Once you alight, perhaps you should take my arm.”
“Yes,” she murmured. “That will do.”
