What the Marquess Sees (5 page)

Before they left St. George’s, he’d
strongly encouraged
Lady B to write a letter to her father stating that she and Stonebridge had determined that they didn’t suit, and thus, they had agreed to call the wedding off. She really hadn’t wanted to write anything; she’d just wanted to get out of there. In the end, she’d finally agreed. And he’d dispatched a footman to deliver the letter to the earl at the church as soon as they had arrived safely at Stonebridge House.

So, a few minutes ago, when another footman arrived at Stonebridge House bearing a letter from the earl, it was not a complete surprise. And of course, the duke was still away, so he couldn’t respond. And so, Dansbury just had to read the letter on his behalf. Obviously.

Duke,

Your Grace, it has come to my attention that, this morning, my daughter intimated that she did not think you would suit each other in that holiest of states: matrimony. The result being that you have mutually agreed not to marry after all. I am embarrassed and appalled by her erroneous thinking in this matter, and I hope that it does not reflect poorly on me in your illustrious eyes. Further, I appreciate your desire to handle this situation discreetly.

Dansbury laughed. Discreetly? A thousand guests were witness to the fact that the wedding hadn’t occurred. He continued reading, shaking his head in the process.

I apologize profusely for her misguided behavior, and I pray that you suffer no insult as a result of her foolish actions. Or bear any ill will toward me, specifically. She is thoroughly aware that she made a wrong and hasty decision and that she behaved dishonestly. Should you seek my counsel, I am able to suggest several suitable punishments that work most effectively as a reprimand for her disgraceful behavior.

Please know that she fervently desires this union between our families; thus, I strongly believe this unexpected behavior is a singular case of nervous anxiety and not an indication of any weakness in her character. But you know women; they have perversely weak constitutions compared to us men.

Therefore, I beg you to reconsider the matter. Unfortunately, Lady Beatryce is currently indisposed as she recovers from her irrationally frightful experience. But I remain confident she will be ready to reassess the situation in a few days. I will be in contact with you when she is thinking sensibly again and ready to speak with you further on this subject of great import. I am sure, then, she will be of a much more amenable disposition.

Swindon

Dansbury doubled over laughing. He held his sides as he tried to stop. She was no longer in danger, so he could suppress his inexplicable and unsuitable level of concern to the obvious threats leveled at her.

But to suggest that she suffered from a nervous anxiety, even a singular one?
Ha!
Frightened?
Double Ha.
Reassess the situation? And, then, to grovel so completely? It was so despicable as to be laughable. And he did laugh. And laughed. It might have been inappropriate. Lady B was definitely not amused.

The lies about her being at home but indisposed were a bit alarming. It was interesting that he did not admit that his daughter was missing. And he did not understand how the earl could possibly think he was going to find Lady B in the interim. He was awfully sure of himself.

It didn’t matter. She was safe with him…er, at Stonebridge House. The earl would never look for her here; it was too impossible to think she would actually be hiding in the duke’s residence of all places after calling off the wedding.

* * * *

Stonebridge House…

Ten Hours Later…

It was time for dinner. They’d been here. In the same house. Under the same roof together. For ten. Hours. Ten long hours.

The dining room was a grand affair. The walls were red silk damask. The table, large enough to seat sixty, was walnut and stained a dark, rich hue making the silver sparkle in the flickering candlelight with the contrast.

And it all looked beautiful as a backdrop to the stunning Lady Beatryce Beckett. Her blonde hair and blue, almost violet eyes looked alive amidst the splendor and opulence of the room. It was as if the room had been decorated with her visage in mind.

Too bad her inner soul did not match her physical beauty, else he would be mesmerized by her presence. It only took her opening her mouth to remind him that a pretty package does not necessarily contain a worthy gift inside.

“La, Dansbury, you have encouraged the cook to outdo himself this evening. Thank you.”

“Thank you, but I had nothing to do with it. Stonebridge’s staff is the best. They deserve all the credit.”

She pursed her lips as if she’d just swallowed something bitter. “Well. In my experience, most of the serving class does not possess the intelligence to complete the smallest task without guidance. Stonebridge’s servants must be exceptional.”

Her attitudes never ceased to amaze him, and not in a good way. “The servants are people, too, Lady Beatryce. Just like you and me. And like you and I, most are quite keen. You do them, and yourself, a disservice if you cannot acknowledge that fact.”

She waved her hand in the air. “Goodness, Dansbury. I didn’t realize you were so…liberal.”

“Lady Beatryce, there are a great many things you do not know about me. And I intend to keep it that way.”

That shut her up. For the moment. They began to eat in blessed peaceful silence for at least two minutes before the witch opened her mouth. Again.

“It must be hard to know a commoner, one planning a future in trade no less, would choose your best friend over you. Does it keep you up at night, wallowing in remorse, that Grace chose Stonebridge over you?”

He smiled. “Likely not as much as Stonebridge choosing Grace keeps you pacing the floors at night.”

He couldn’t resist saying it. Her smile fell, and he was almost ashamed. Almost.

In truth, he wasn’t bothered in the least. He threw her a false smile.

She quickly composed herself and pursed her lips as if she would argue the point further, likely with something disagreeable, so he added, “Lady Beatryce, your sour tongue turns my stomach. Please refrain from speaking if you cannot be pleasant.”

She knew how to get under his skin better than anyone. Hell, she was the only person who ever managed to do so. Lady Beatryce. Lady.
Ha! Some lady.
The term lady brought to mind manners and graciousness, innocence. Not so this harpy who called herself a lady.

Admittedly, her spoken prejudices were common amongst many in the ton. He still hated to hear them expressed, regardless.

Lady Beatryce was the only person in the world he actively disdained, and if he were honest, he’d admit that that fact disturbed him on some deep level. Even though she deserved his contempt.

He enjoyed people. He enjoyed charming them and putting them at ease, it was an asset in his line of work…but he could never be that way with her. He didn’t look too profoundly at the reasons for it.

“Hmm. Touchy…”

He just looked at her, daring her to continue her line of thought. She wisely chose to remain silent, though he could see her mind was churning. Clearly, she needed to speak. He decided he would be the one to choose the topic.

“Since you are so keen to hear the sound of your own voice, tell me, Lady Beatryce, what information do you have to impart? What do you know of our investigation?”

Silence.

And now she refuses to speak.

He waited patiently a few minutes. Then, “Lady Beatryce? You were quite determined to speak earlier. Pray do not stop now. I asked you a question. What do you know of our investigation?”

She set her fork down and dabbed at her lips. So ladylike. She was wasting time. His time.

“Lady B…”

“I won’t speak until Stonebridge is here. He is the man in charge, is he not?”

“He is. But I want to understand why I brought you here. Why I am lying to your father on your behalf…”

“La, I certainly cannot speak to the reasons behind your actions. Surely, you, of all people, would know the answer to that…”

He wanted to strangle her. She was being deliberately obtuse. She threw him a smile that confirmed this fact.

“Lady Beatryce. You try my patience. I suspect you would try the patience of the most benevolent saint.”

“La, Dansbury. You should find a way to deal with your ill humor. A foul disposition is not good for your heart, you know.”

He really wanted to strangle her. “Why? Why are you deliberately provoking me?”

“Why, Dansbury, whatever do you mean?”

At that, he stood up and left. Without another word lest he actually strangle the witch.

“We all have faults, and mine is being wicked.”

― James Thurber

Stonebridge House…

London…

The Library…

Day Two of Torture…

Lady Beatryce paced the perimeter of the library, glancing over the selection of books without actually taking any real note of the titles before her. She was bored. Utterly bored. And a bored Beatryce was a dangerous thing; she always managed to find her way into trouble when her hands were idle. This time, the tedium had driven her to the point where she made up things with which to goad Dansbury…At dinner. After dinner. During breakfast. In passing…La, she would even consider waking him during the night if she thought she could get away with it.

When she thought about it, provoking him was really quite fun. Though he did not seem to agree with her assessment at the moment. In fact, he reacted strongly to the silliest of things now, which made it all the more amusing. For her.

After a day and a half of this, she no longer had to put forth any effort to needle him. La, he took offense to everything she said, regardless of her intent. Why only yesterday, she made him angry by telling him that his cravat wasn’t tied properly. It was true, so she didn’t see why it should make him so angry, but it did.

She was the one unable to leave the house, even to walk in the back garden, and it was about to make her crazy. Even if it was for her safety. And all her doing.

But still, Stonebridge House was quickly beginning to feel like gaol. She was sure of it. Yet he was the one walking around like he had a burr in his boot, while she was taking it all in stride. At least, as much as could be expected given the circumstances.

Besides, she had the upper hand. Knowledge was power. And she had the knowledge he wanted.

It was noon of their second day at Stonebridge House and Dansbury was due to press her for information any minute now. Every two hours, he sought her out and tried to get her to speak of her father’s machinations. The city of London could set their schedules to his predictable timing. She looked up at the large, ornate Ormolu clock on the fireplace mantle. La, it was time. She braced herself.

“Ah, Lady Beatryce…”

Speak of the devil.

“Ah, Lord Dansbury. Right on schedule…”

He gave her a confused look, as if to ask her meaning. She declined to explain, though she suspected he knew what she meant anyway.

He stood beside a chair, all polite manners. Like a gentleman ought.

“I don’t intend to sit, but please feel free if it suits you, to rest,” she told him with a quirk of her head.

He attempted to suppress a scowl. She supposed her comment had sounded an awful lot like a negative remark upon his age.

But then his smile abruptly returned. “I will stand, thank you.”

He clasped his hands behind his back and bounced on his heels. It made his jacket, his waistcoat…everything pull tight across his broad shoulders. She appreciated the view. He wasn’t really advanced in age; he was in his youthful prime. A fine man. And she was a woman who cherished fine things.

“I’ll save you the trouble, Dansbury, the answer is still no. I’ll not be revealing anything until Stonebridge returns. You are wasting your breath if you are here to press me further.”

His response surprised her. “Why, Lady Beatryce, perhaps I simply want to enjoy the company of a delightful lady?”

La! Was Dansbury attempting to approach her with his infamous charm? This was novel. And a bit alarming. Already his words involuntarily melted a small amount of her resistance.

It was unacceptable.

“I am flattered.” She gave him a sultry smile and approached him slowly and deliberately. She could see him swallow and swore he almost pulled on his cravat. “…but you still won’t convince me to divulge my secrets.”

His smile remained fixed. “Ah, Lady Beatryce, were I to put forth a considerable effort to charm you into submission, I have no doubt of my success. I can be…very…” he took a step, “very…” he took another, “convincing.” His lowered his voice as he spoke, a bass that rumbled like distant thunder. The sound was like a caress; her skin tightened in response.

She swallowed and shored up her defenses. She lifted her chin and countered with, “…and I can be relentlessly stubborn.”

He nodded his head in agreement. “A character trait I have come to understand over the past twenty-four hours.”

“Good.”

“Excellent.”

Oooh.
He just had to have the last word.

He stepped closer. They were almost touching now, definitely within each other’s personal space. She tried desperately to steady her breath. This man was more dangerous than she had realized. For a moment, they simply stared at each other. Each trying to read the other’s thoughts, each coming back with naught.

He broke the silence first. “I simply saw you in here and thought to offer conversation.”

She laughed. “I cannot deny that your proposal is intriguing, but, Dansbury, I am no naïve girl. You pretend to gain my favor in order to convince me to divulge my secrets. I will not fall for your charms, even as appealing as they are.”

“You find me appealing? I can work with appealing…” He stepped forward again.

Oh God, he was good. Too good.