Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

B eatrice stared up at the Duke, bewildered. He only stared back at her, his expression blank as always.

And then, in a sickening rush, she realized.

“It’s a joke,” she murmured. “You’re making fun of me, aren’t you? Who’d want to marry me, is that what you are saying? You are an awful man, Your Grace .”

She made to spin on her heel and march away, but he grabbed her wrist and hauled her back.

Now that was shocking. Gentlemen did not touch ladies, except to perhaps grasp the tips of their fingers in a handshake. Beatrice was not sure that anybody had ever grabbed her wrist in that manner before. What was worse, his long, cool fingers had managed to slip underneath those ridiculous, billowy sleeves, touching bare skin.

“Unhand me, Your Grace,” she hissed.

His grip was sudden but not tight, and she managed to whip her arm away from him.

Far from being cowed, the wretched man only chuckled.

“ Unhand me? Are you some sort of heroine, my dear? Are you going to swoon right here in front of the church at the sheer horror of my villainy? May I remind you that you agreed to my terms? One favor is owed, to be called in at my discretion. You should have read the fine print, I think.”

“You can’t possibly want to marry me,” Beatrice tried again. It had to be a joke. “A man like you could marry anyone he wants. Why would you need to compel somebody to marry you?”

He winced. “I have a reputation to uphold, Miss Haversham. And while there are plenty more… adventurous young women who might fancy themselves as Duchess Blackheart, they are not exactly suitable. Not what I am looking for, dare I say.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I had no idea that you were looking. ”

Abruptly, he leaned forward, coming almost nose-to-nose with her. Beatrice flinched, despite herself. She was suddenly conscious of a musky smell, of petrichor and something spicy. It was his cologne, she realized.

For all the man’s flaws, he certainly smelled pleasant enough, and he was clean.

“Miss Haversham,” the Duke said thoughtfully, as if the idea just occurred to him, “you strike me as a clever woman. Observant. With good instincts, into the bargain. However, I consider myself a man who defies interpretation, if you understand me. My point is that you don’t have the faintest idea of who I am and what I want. You owe me a favor, and I believe I have already hinted at dire consequences if you refuse to oblige me.”

She clenched her teeth. “I didn’t know you were going to make me marry you. I would never have agreed to that!”

“Oh, but you did agree. You agreed to a favor . I’m sure you guessed that my favors are more than invitations to tea. I expect to be repaid. In full.”

Beatrice squeezed her eyes shut, lifting a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. She was getting a headache. It had been building since that morning, the tension abruptly released when she realized that she was not going to marry the Marquess after all.

And now, unsurprisingly, the headache was back.

She opened her eyes to find the Duke leaning back again, eyeing her curiously. She couldn’t interpret his expression. She doubted that anyone could.

“I did not ask for you to free me,” she said, carefully, “only to find myself trapped by somebody worse. No offense, Your Grace.”

He chuckled. “None taken. And my proposal is not quite a traditional marriage. I shall make sure that you don’t feel trapped, I can promise you that.”

“How on earth could you promise such a thing?”

He folded his arms across his chest, eyeing her critically. “Imagine this, Miss Haversham. No doubt you do not need me to tell you that life as a single woman is… limiting. You are all but owned by your father until you come of age, with no access to your own money or to any means of earning some. When you marry, you become your husband’s property, more or less.”

“Thank you for reminding me.”

“Rich widows, as we all know, are the most free women in our society. Let us not get into a debate about the fairness of this matter, I’m sure we feel the same. To do anything, to have any sort of respect or status, a woman must be married . That involves giving up her freedom.”

“I am familiar with the plight of my sex, thank you,” Beatrice remarked dryly. “Go on.”

He began to circle her, standing entirely too close. She felt the urge to turn and keep her eyes on him as he paced behind her, but she forced herself to stay still as if his pacing did not concern her at all.

“Suppose you were married to a man. A rich man who would give you a massive allowance as well as property and land, and would not give a fig about where you went or with whom you spent your time. How would that suit you?”

There was a long pause between them. Beatrice blinked up at him.

Is this part of the joke?

“Such a man does not exist,” she said, at last. “What would he gain from such an arrangement? An heir? I might as well tell you now, Your Grace, I have no interest in children or in producing any.”

The Duke chuckled. “Heavens, no.”

He paused, his gaze flitting over her shoulder. “Our friends approach, I see.”

She glanced behind her. Sure enough, Theodore and Anna were stepping out of the church, deep in conversation. They would see them in a moment and head right towards them.

“Let me be straight with you, Miss Haversham,” the Duke said, speaking a little quicker now. He clearly wanted to get the matter over with before his friend approached. “You are under no legal obligation to give me my favor. Some might argue you have no moral obligation, too, but you strike me as a remarkably honorable woman, my dear. I have upheld my end of the bargain—rather nicely, if I do say so myself—and now it is time for you to uphold yours. That requires agreeing to my proposal. I cannot force you to marry me, naturally, but this is my favor. This is what I want. And if I were you, I would not risk turning me down, Miss Haversham.”

“Can I think it over?” she managed, her voice a trifle hoarse.

He chuckled. “You may. But don’t take too long. There are some rules we must agree on before anything is announced. You’ll want to hear these rules.”

Beatrice frowned. “ Rules ?”

Before she could say anything else, there was a distant yelp, and she heard her name being called. It wasn’t a surprise when she turned to see Anna, red-faced, racing towards her, Theodore hot on her heels.

Anna’s condition was beginning to show, her belly gracefully curving out, pressing against her dress. Probably, she would be expected to go into confinement soon, but Beatrice couldn’t imagine her friend doing anything of the sort.

“Anna, I—” Beatrice was cut off when her friend threw her arms around her neck, squeezing her tight.

“Oh, Beatrice, that was awful,” Anna whispered. “You poor dear.”

“I’m… I’m not exactly heartbroken, you know.”

Anna pulled back, eyeing her carefully. She’d always been too sharp for Beatrice to hide much of anything from her. Flushing, Beatrice glanced away.

Theodore, the Duke of Langdon, was staring at his friend, his eyes narrowed. “That was quite a show, Stephen,” he said.

“Yes, but necessary, I think,” Stephen answered blandly. “A private matter might have allowed the Marquess to talk his way out of it. Or worse yet, do more harm to that poor woman he has already wronged. You know how I hate dramatics, Theodore, but it was quite necessary.”

Theodore and Anna exchanged a pointed look, and Beatrice felt as though she were eavesdropping on a private conversation, somehow.

What would it be like to have that kind of connection with somebody? It was more than what she felt with her friends. It was different, somehow. She bit her lower lip, hard, and averted her gaze.

“Beatrice, I’m sure you’re very upset after all of this,” Anna said abruptly, making her flinch. “And, Theo, I’m sure you have a great deal to talk about with your friend, don’t you?”

That sounded distinctly ominous. Judging by the furrow between Stephen’s eyebrows, he thought so, too.

“Indeed,” Theodore drawled, meeting his friend’s eyes. “What do you suggest, my dear?”

“I shall take Beatrice home,” Anna answered firmly. “Lord and Lady Stanley are quite lost after all of this, and I assured them that I would take care of her. I’ll take her home in our carriage, and you can walk His Grace here home yourself. How does that sound?”

Theodore shot her another meaningful look. “As you say, my dear.”

Anna gave a brief nod. And then, before anyone could say anything, or protest in any way, she grabbed Beatrice’s arm and towed her away, leading her away from the church and down towards a little grassy hill, besides which the wealthier members of the congregation would park their carriages.

Beatrice spotted Anna and Theodore’s carriage at once, the ducal crest standing out against the smooth lacquer. Anna hustled her towards it, a footman barely getting the door open in time before Anna pushed her friend forward, up into the plush, newly upholstered interior.

Beatrice obeyed—it was generally easier to go along with whatever Anna wanted—and sat there meekly, waiting for her friend to rearrange her skirts and speak first.

Anna knocked on the roof of the carriage. “Drive on,” she commanded, sounding equal parts tired and annoyed. “So, Beatrice, are you going to tell me what, exactly, is going on here? Why did you look so relieved when Stephen made that fuss? Didn’t you want to marry the Marquess?”

Beatrice took a breath to explain—and burst into tears.

The two women sat in silence for a while. Beatrice had told the story of how she came to be engaged to the Marquess, and how she had gone to the Duke of Blackwood for help. She hadn’t yet mentioned the favor he had asked for. The carriage trundled along the paved streets, the world passing by right outside the curtained windows.

Beatrice privately thought that Anna and Theodore’s carriage was much nicer than theirs. For one thing, it was pretty clear that the carriage had just been recently resprung, and there was no John to kick at her shins when he was bored.

Honestly, that boy is just an overgrown child.

“I had no idea things were that bad,” Anna murmured. “Oh, Beatrice, I’ve been such an awful friend.”

Beatrice bit her lip, shaking her head. “No, Anna, I’m not blaming you for anything. You’ve been through a great deal, and now you and Theo are in love, and I’m so happy for you. Truly, I am.”

“It doesn’t matter. I ought to have been there for you.”

She shrugged. “I haven’t seen much of Henry, either. Why should you be the only one responsible? I’m a grown woman, aren’t I?”

Anna sighed, reaching out to take Beatrice’s hand. “When I heard you were marrying Lord Hampton, I thought… Oh, I don’t know what I thought. It was too late when I heard, anyway. The banns were read, the engagement settled, and I suppose… I suppose I wanted to stay wrapped up in my own little world. I did think it odd when you didn’t talk to me about it but I thought that perhaps I was just being selfish.”

Beatrice snorted. “It gets worse than this, Anna.”

“Worse than going to Stephen for help? I don’t know him well, but Theo jokes that he’s earned his nickname. He can be cruel, and he’s far too clever for his own good. You should have steered clear of him, Beatrice.”

“What else should I have done?” Beatrice responded, a little more sharply than Anna deserved. “Nobody else could help me. I needed a way out of the wedding, and I couldn’t… I couldn’t think of anything! I can’t hurt Mama and Papa, not now. Not after Jane’s death. I don’t know why I thought that this would be better. I had no idea he would make such a scene in the church. I thought it would be… quieter, somehow.”

Anna chewed on the inside of her cheek. “Stephen does not do things quietly , from what I’ve heard. But why did he agree to help you, Beatrice? To be frank, he is not a kind man. He always wants something in return.”

The unspoken question hung between them. What did you promise him?

For a moment, Beatrice considered lying. It might make the whole business seem less real. As if she might wake up in the morning, in her bed, and realize that it was a nonsensical dream.

Except it was not a dream. She could still feel the Duke’s fingers curling around her wrist, even though he had not applied enough pressure to leave even the slightest mark. Absently, she lifted her other hand to her wrist, circling it with her fingers.

“In exchange for his help to expose the Marquess—and I had no idea about the woman and her child, by the way—he said I would owe him a favor.”

The color drained from Anna’s face. “Oh, Beatrice, tell me you didn’t agree.”

Beatrice looked away. “I think you know I did.”

“I shall talk to Theo. He’ll talk to Stephen and convince him that?—”

“No,” Beatrice said, louder than she’d intended. “No, Anna. I’m not so dishonorable as to back out of an agreement.”

“It is hardly dishonorable !”

“How differently we feel.”

There was a taut silence after that.

Anna began to nibble on her thumbnail. “Well, are you going to tell me?” she asked.

“Tell you what?”

“Tell me what the favor was. Why the infamous Duke Blackheart agreed to investigate the Marquess and expose him so publicly. It must be a large favor.”

Beatrice closed her eyes briefly. “He says that he wants to marry me.”

There was another silence, longer and heavier this time.

“You cannot be serious,” Anna said, at last.

Beatrice’s temper flared. “Why? Because a man like him would never wish to marry a bespectacled, plump, bluestocking spinster like me?”

Anna flinched back. “ Of course that is not what I mean! How could you imagine that I would ever think that way about you, Beatrice? Really, I am most offended! You are entirely too good for the Duke. Even Theodore, who is his closest friend, would agree. I am only shocked because the Duke has never shown the slightest inclination to marry. And to marry in such a way is… well, it is not done , to say the least.”

Beatrice looked away. “I’m sorry, Anna. I should not have assumed. I suppose I am not feeling very… honorable… at the moment.”

“That hideous dress cannot be helping. You’d look nicer in a sack. Nobody would look pretty in that gown.”

Beatrice let out a huff of laughter. “True, true.”

“Anyway, you needn’t worry about Stephen. As I said, I shall talk to Theodore, and this whole mess will be?—”

“I can’t do that, Anna,” Beatrice interrupted. She felt almost hysterical, as if she were about to burst out laughing and never stop. “I entered into an agreement with him. Of my own free will. It is a matter of honor. It was to be an unusual arrangement, he said. Oh, Anna, I think I am going to have to go through with it. I think I will have to marry the Duke of Blackwood.”