He recalled the flavor of her mouth from their shared spoon. “Yes.”
* * *
Beatrix had not been ready for the song to end, but it did.
Hero let her go.
Valiant turned from the pianoforte. “I am certainly glad that is settled. Now, Beatrix, do go and get your bonnet. We must go.”
“Where?” Beatrix asked.
Valiant grinned. “My house. You’ve a few social calls set to arrive in an hour or so. I’ve arranged for them to take place at my father’s residence, since I plan to see him anyway, and it would be the height of impropriety for anyone to come here while you are alone. We can’t have your reputation ruined.”
For a moment, she felt irate by the thought of callers and realized it was because she knew Hero would not be one of them.
He made that clear as he moved to the door. “I’ll see you both at my father’s residence. After that, if I am needed, you can simply send word to my residence.” He looked bored.
Did he not care that she was to meet with other men and one who would likely marry her one day?
Of course, he didn’t. This had been Hero’s plan all along.
While she’d been overcome by their dance, he’d likely been thinking of every way to ensure she married quickly.
Why had he volunteered to teach her the dance if he was that anxious to get away from her?
“I won’t be but a moment.” She rushed from the room and didn’t bother to look at Hero as she passed him.
She grabbed the bonnet that Joanna had set out for the day and met the Curbain siblings downstairs. “I’m ready.”
They left the house quickly, and Beatrix listened to Valiant talk about the men and women who’d be coming by as the carriage conveyed them to Lord Ayers’ residence.
When the carriage stopped, they all climbed out and, with barely a bow, Hero was gone.
Goodbye and good riddance! Her mind shouted with great heat, though she knew Shakespeare's line would not take root in her heart until she truly faced the facts.
Hero didn’t want her and the sooner she realized it, less of her heart could be broken later.
∫ ∫ ∫
1 8
Hero was a fool.
He was allowing his heart to be carried away in his relationship with Beatrix, yet all the while, she was set to marry someone else.
While they’d waltzed, he’d forgotten everything but her. She’d become his world, and he’d begun to gravitate around her, lost in her at the moment.
And for a while, it had felt like she was his. It had not felt like their first dance, but one of many they’d danced over their lives.
Yet she was not for him.
He was going to India. The military wished for there to be a man of a diplomatic mind leading the fight against the Burkha Kingdom. England wanted peace and for some reason, everyone wished Hero to be that peacemaker.
He thought about Murray again.
The position as Secretary of Foreign Affairs was not so dissimilar, only instead of going to India himself, he’d be sending someone, which would give him the opportunity to stay in London.
Stay and do what? That was the question.
There was London during the Season and his own country estate during the winter. There were the races that Lore invited him to watch him participate in whenever Hero was home and the parks to visit.
But did he truly wish to do all of that alone?
He’d never had trouble being alone before. So why this need to be with someone?
Not, not just someone, he admitted.
Beatrix Gillingham.
He leaned back in his carriage and closed his eyes as he recalled the look in her eyes as they’d danced. Had it been only his imagination, or had she purposefully moved closer to him?
What was this obsession with one woman when there were so many in London he could choose from?
If it was bed sport he wished for, he knew where a clean willing woman could be obtained.
But the thought of a courtesan didn’t appeal to him in the least.
He went to White’s instead of heading to the terrace he rented and hoped to find a bit of distraction while he was there.
He soon found that distraction was to be found in the form of political debate. The topic was not one Hero was inclined to join, but it took his mind off Beatrix and her suitors for half an hour or so.
Then he went to the dining room and shared a meal with another general who happened to be present. They discussed the Congress of Vienna, and Hero shared all he’d seen and heard while he was there.
But once the meal ended, the gentleman excused himself with a confession of wishing to see his wife. He looked quite pleased as he strolled from White’s. He’d been one of the lucky soldiers who’d found a woman capable of contenting herself with friends and family until her husband’s return.
His thoughts returned to Beatrix just as soon as the thought came.
Hero looked at his pocket watch and realized only an hour and a half had passed. He decided it was time to head home and was surprised when his butler handed him a note that had arrived just moments after he’d departed his father’s home.
Apparently, Asher had seen him deliver the women to the house and wished to meet with him.
Hero looked at his pocket watch again. Two hours had passed. There was a chance that Beatrix had returned to her own residence by now and he’d not run into any of her beaus on his arrival.
When he approached his father’s residence, he realized he’d have no such luck.
The carriages in the drive told him there was indeed company about.
He walked into the house and handed the butler his hat. “Where is Redgrave?”
Even from a distance, he could hear laughter from the upstairs drawing room.
“Lord Redgrave is not here,” the butler said, regaining his attention. “But he is set to be back within the half hour. May I see you to the drawing room where the others are?”
Hero shook his head. “Have a maid bring a tray to the library. I shall wait there.” He walked off toward the library, which took him closer to the noise. The library was in the other wing of the house.
He made it to the top of the stairs and heard the door to the drawing room open before he could turn away.
“My lord!” Mr. Carey shouted from the doorway. “I heard movement in the hall and thought you Valiant. Hurry, you must come and see.”
See what?
Hero narrowed his gaze. Where was his sister? Surely, she’d not left Beatrix alone with a group of lords.
He entered the pale green drawing room and found Beatrix surrounded by people, both men and women. Her skin glowed and amusement was on her face. A young lady he didn’t know sat at Beatrix’s side. Her ungloved hand was in Beatrix’s— who also happened to not be wearing gloves. The other woman was blonde with brown eyes and may have been considered pretty if she weren’t so very near Beatrix’s radiance.
Beatrix was unaware of his presence as she concentrated on the woman’s hand, sliding her fingers over the woman’s palm.
“Can you feel it?” Beatrix asked her.
The woman laughed. “Oh, yes! I can! Oh, Beatrix, you’re amazing!”
Lore, who’d walked over to Hero the moment he’d arrived in the room, explained what was going on. “Beatrix has sown into her hand and now pulls the invisible string away. You should let her do your hand. I tell you it is quite interesting.” Then Lore added in a low voice, “I daresay, it’s nearly erotic.”
Hero didn’t need a trick performed on him in order for Beatrix to pull his strings. She was already holding far more than she should.
He didn’t like that Beatrix had touched Lore, Carey, or anyone else in this intimate fashion. For all her thoughts on propriety, she had to know that being without her gloves was unseemly.
But from the dozen expressions of wonder that surrounded him, it was clear he was the only one who cared.
Where was his
sister?
Valiant came charging in then. “I have found them.” She was holding a deck of cards.
Everyone cheered with great enthusiasm without a thought of his ailing father, who was likely trying to rest in another room in the house.
“Why are you letting this happen?” Hero asked Lore accusingly. “Our father needs his rest.”
Lore narrowed his eyes. “I saw to Father the moment their voices began to rise. He said he liked to hear the laughter. It has been some time since merriment has filled the house.” Lore looked at him closely. “I care for him just as much as you do.”
Of course, he did.
Hero tried to calm himself, but at that moment, he looked over at Beatrix and noticed her eyes were on him.
She was no longer smiling.
His presence had clearly ruined her good time.
The noise in the room lowered and many of the lords made their bows to him while the women greeted him properly.
The once-cheery atmosphere was gone.
He felt old standing in a room full of men and women who’d yet to reach their thirtieth year. “Good evening to you all.” He bowed. “Please, carry on.”
“Where are you going?” Valiant asked when he turned away. “Beatrix was just about to show us a card trick. I dare say, I’ll never play whist while she is at the table.” Valiant then introduced him to those who he’d not met before.
Hero was forced to invade more of the room until he came to the woman at Beatrix’s side. Miss Lily Rider was the widow Lady Pellton’s daughter, and Hero imagined her to be the old friend Valiant had told him about on the morning of Beatrix’s presentation at court.
“My brother is a skeptic,” Valiant said to Beatrix, which was not at all true. “Show him a trick.”
“Oh, please,” Miss Rider said. “I always loved when you did them.”
When Mr. Carey rose to give him a place at Beatrix’s side, Hero was left with little choice but to take the position.
∫ ∫ ∫
1 9
Beatrix stared into Hero’s eyes. The card in his hand faced himself. The back of it was to her. The others who’d crowded around him could also read the front. Only Beatrix was left out. They waited with anticipation for her to tell them what card he held. Was it a king? A queen?
They’d watched as she’d allowed Hero to shuffle the deck and then as she shuffled it before instructing him to select a card at the top.
He seemed reluctant to do any of it. She’d seen the anger in his eyes when he’d been standing at the entrance of the room. Did he disapprove of tricks? She told herself it didn’t matter, especially since everyone else seemed to be having a pleasant time.
Now the trick was to read Hero’s mind in order to know which card he’d pulled, but of course, Beatrix had no actual psychic abilities.
Without them being aware, she’d selected Hero’s card long before he’d touched it himself. It was a skill her brother had learned from the gypsies who had lived on their lands for a summer.
“Well?” he pressed impatiently. “What do I have?”
“You are a servant to the king,” she said. “A wealthy one at that. There would be no better card for you than the knave of diamonds.”
The crowd around them made sounds of astonishment and clapped.
Hero’s gaze narrowed as he placed the card down on the table.
She’d been right. He had the knave of diamonds.
“How did you know?” Hero asked.
“Beatrix the trickster,” Lore declared from behind his brother. He was grinning wildly at her as he leaned on the back of his brother’s chair. “You grow more fascinating every day, my lady.”
Hero grunted.
Beatrix felt a flash of irritation with him. She knew he was impressed. His eyes had widened just slightly when she’d told him his card. Yet now he was all blasé.
She’d performed five tricks in the last half hour and, with every moment, she’d begun to wonder if their waltz from earlier that morning had taken place at all.
One of the lords announced that it was time for him to depart, and it seemed the rest of the room was of the same conscious.
Beatrix distracted herself with telling her friends goodbye. Mr. Carey kissed her hand far longer than need be as he met her eyes. She gave him a genuine smile. At least someone didn’t detest her at the moment. She continued to smile until only she and the Curbain family remained.
Lore chuckled. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall by the door. “Well, I’ve not had that much fun here in quite some time. I have never seen such a display of dexterity.”
“Yes,” Valiant agreed from her position on the couch next to Hero. “Wherever did you learn those tricks?”
Beatrix kept her gaze focused on Valiant alone. “My brother.”
Hero crossed one knee over the other. His expression was unreadable. “I don’t believe it proper for a lady to demonstrate a series of skills that are close to those of a pickpocket.”
It was high-handed of him, given the fact that he was her benefactor. If he actually did wish for her to stop, she would have to, she supposed. But if he truly pressed the issue or any other issue, Beatrix was certain she’d never forgive him.
She would not be controlled. She’d escaped such a fate before. She’d leave everything behind and do so again.
“Hero, what has gotten into you?” Valiant turned to him with a lifted brow. “You were always the one to drag us to the circus.”
“Yes,” Lore cut in. “He practically begged to go every year. He adores small wonders.”
Beatrix was not surprised by the information, for it was clear that she was the one Hero currently had an issue with, not the tricks or games. He did not adore her, and he was showing it in the most hideous way.
“Your brother would have best used his time teaching you something of value like riding,” Hero said tersely and quite high in the instep. “And not something that required vulgarly touching men with your bare fingers.”
“Hero!” Valiant said with reproach.
Beatrix had had enough. “Well, my lord, I’m afraid we didn’t have the money for horses or riding instructors. My father nearly went poor from hiring me a tutor. We had to make due if there was to be any joy in our house. We didn’t have coin for trips to the circus so that we could watch others demonstrate… what was it that you said? Vulgar touches?”
“Brava, Lady Gillingham!” Lore called out. “That was a nice set-down—”
Hero wasn’t quite finished. He had the ability to look down his royal hooked nose at her from his seated position, and she could clearly feel the angry heat that poured from him, all of it directed at her as though she were one of his soldiers. “I’m sure your brother didn’t imagine you’d display such impertinent behavior in the house of a duke.”
“Impertinent?” Beatrix whispered.
“Dear me!” Lore moved to Beatrix’s side and glared at Hero. “What has gotten into you?”
“Hero, apologize this instant.” Valiant was staring at her brother as though she’d never seen him before. Beatrix dearly wanted to give him the same look but couldn’t.
Because truly, she didn’t know him at all. Perhaps, she was seeing the true Hero, which happened to be no hero at all.
She was wounded in a way she’d hadn’t felt since the day she’d left her brother’s house, which meant somehow, she’d allowed Hero in when she’d not allowed anyone else close in many years. Mr. Thump, Joanna, not even John had held the ability to hurt her, but he had.
She’d never allow it again, she vowed.
He continued to look at her haughtily, and she refused to crumble before him.
“I wish to return to the terrace,” Beatrix said to Valiant before she turned on her heels. It took Herculean strength not to dash from the room.
* * *
Hero stood the moment Beatrix departed.
“What is the matter with you?” Valiant asked him in a hard whisper. “You
’ve embarrassed her for no reason.”
Hero would not let go of his rage. “She embarrassed herself with that ugly display of trickery.”
Valiant took a step back and pursed her lips. “If this does anything to my friendship with Lady Beatrix, I will not so easily forgive you, brother.” She fled after her friend.
Lore was glaring at him, but then his expression cleared, and he grinned. “You’re jealous.”
Hero didn’t bother to meet his brother’s eyes. “Of what? The attention Beatrix gathered while entertaining the room with some slight of hand? I think not. I’ve never been a fan of attention.” He moved to the window and made it just in time to see Beatrix disappear into his sister’s carriage.
“Not of the attention,” Lore said. “But of the men who were crowding her when you entered the room.”
Hero furrowed his brows. “Likely not. Beatrix is on the marriage market. Of course, she will gain attention. I simply thought she’d know to be less impetuous.”
“You came late so you were not here when Miss Rider explained the significance of Beatrix’s… impetuousness.”
Hero frowned. “What reason could she have had for doing as she did?”
Lore walked over to his brother and stood before him by the window. It hadn’t bothered Hero in years that his brother was better looking than him.
Lore lived a very leisurely life and seemed to enjoy every minute of it, but Hero’s life had purpose. He’d not bought his position as a general in His Majesty's army. He’d earned it. He’d come in a lower officer like many other sons of lords but had proven himself to be a leader of men.
Yet at the moment, Hero would have enjoyed nothing more than to punch Lore in the face. He’d wanted to do so every time he and Beatrix had smiled at one another. It was as if they shared a secret, one that was only shared with those who were beautiful.
“When Miss Rider was a little girl,” Lore began. “She witnessed her father fall from a horse toward his gruesome death. He hit his head on a stone and bled to death.”
Hero frowned. “That is terrible. A child should not have to see such things, especially a woman.”
The Perfect Lady (Valiant Love) (A Regency Romance Book) Page 10
