Page 57

Downstairs, a footman was sweeping up a broken wineglass from near the door, away from the dried red wine stain on the ground, ostensibly from where the glass had fallen and shattered. Beatrice bit back her guilt.

We really should have cleaned that up.

Stephen was standing near the door, his back turned, adjusting his cravat in front of the hallway mirror.

“Ready?” he said, not turning around.

“As I’ll ever be,” Beatrice murmured, reaching the foot of the stairs. “If you don’t like my dress, please keep it to yourself, by the way.”

“Why would I not like your…” Stephen began, turning around.

As soon as his gaze landed on her, his voice died down. Was it her imagination, or did his eyes bulge out of his head?

The silence formed a solid block between them, and Beatrice found her heart thumping inside her chest as if it were trying to get out.

“… dress,” Stephen finished lamely. “That’s not one of the gowns I bought for you before we got married.”

She swallowed. “Well, no. I bought it myself. It’s not exactlyfashionable, but I do like it very much, and I think it suits me.”

Stephen snapped his gaze back up to her face and cleared his throat abruptly. “Yes. Yes, it does suit you. It’s a nice dress. Now, shall we go?”

She nodded, not sure where the flutter of nerves in her stomach had come from.

Stephen opened the door, revealing their largest, nicest carriage waiting outside.

There was nothing for Beatrice to do but snatch up her shawl and follow him, wondering where onearththe night was going to take them.

Either way, she realized with a sinking heart that she could notwaitto find out.

“Almack’s?” she yelped, her eyes nearly popping out of her head. “We’re going toAlmack’s? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Stephen grinned at her. “Haven’t you been there before?”

“Of course I have, but not in… not in a gown like this one! You know how strict Almack’s patrons are about wearing the proper attire.”

She fingered the low neckline of her gown nervously. Stephen glanced down, his eyes following the movement.

“You worry too much,” he remarked. “Why, do you think we’ll be banned?”

“People have been banned from Almack’s for less.”

“Certainly they have, but those people are not the Duke and Duchess of Blackwood. Come, the music has started already. Are you coming or not?”

“I hope you don’t intend to entertain your opera singers at our home,” Beatrice said suddenly, staring out the window. “No matter what we agreed upon.”

He glanced at her, his expression unreadable in the dark. “Do you think that’s what I’ve been doing, then? In France? Entertaining dancers and opera singers?”

She met his eyes squarely. “Wasn’t that what you were doing?”

He only smiled in response. “I think that what I was doing is my own business, but I assure you that there were fewer opera singers than you can imagine.”

“Just one, then?”

He said nothing, and Beatrice frowned, feeling unsettled for reasons she could not explain.

He climbed out of the carriage first and then twisted around to look expectantly at her, his hand outstretched. Beatrice stared at him, her heart thumping.

In the weak lamplight, mixed with silvery moonlight, Stephen seemed younger than before, his hair ruffled in the breeze, his eyes wide and innocent.