Page 33

He refused to allow her pain to linger. She was innocent in all this and didn’t deserve to have her heart ripped from her chest.

.. again. He was also innocent, but for some reason, he felt a strange connection to Lady Beatrice, and he wanted to help her.

Someone needed to take the young lady under their care.

But a nagging suspicion in the back of his mind told him this dilemma needed to end and fast, or he would lose Emmeline.

For ten years, the circumstances of their lives and the decisions they’d made had kept them apart. Well, no more.

After dressing for the ball, he climbed inside his carriage and left. The closer he came to the Marquess and Marchioness of Tremont’s home, the tighter his muscles coiled up and the more queasy his stomach became.

The receiving line was dastardly long, and he kept pulling at his cravat as the warmth from the crowd overwhelmed him. He had never been one for attacks of nerves, but he’d swear he was experiencing one now. Finally, it was his turn, and he felt sweat soaking through his clothing.

He bowed. “Marquess, thank you for welcoming me into your home.”

“You are most welcome, Your Grace.”

“Marchioness Tremont,” he said as he bowed over her hand and brought it to his lips. “How lovely you look.”

“Silver-tongued as always, Your Grace,” she giggled.

Once inside the ballroom, his eyes roamed for Langford and Caldwell. Thankfully, he spied them in a corner toward the back. He strolled toward them but was waylaid by the Earl and Countess of Hartford and Lady Beatrice. So much for the earl sending the countess off to the country.

“Your Grace,” Hartford said with a nod, relief visible on his face. “I thought perhaps you would leave us in a lurch.”

“I gave my word,” he said with a frown and a narrow gaze, shocked that the man dared insult him at this point.

“Forgive me,” Hartford mumbled. At least he had the decency to apologize for the slight.

“Your Grace.” The countess curtsied with a twinkle in her eye and a frightening smile. She must be elated at the turn of events, even though they were false.

No words came from him, nor did he bow or acknowledge her in any way. Instead, he turned to her daughter. “Lady Beatrice,” Andrew said, “how beautiful you look this evening. I will be the envy of every gentleman here.”

“Your Grace.” She curtsied with a weary look in her eyes. “Thank you, but I highly doubt it.”

As the four of them stood on the outskirts of the ballroom, every eye scrutinized them openly.

Were there no members of the ton who hadn’t read the scandal sheets that morning?

Andrew never favored himself for the stage, but he would perform his part of this farce in a manner worthy of a standing ovation during the upcoming days.

To save his mind, he thought in days instead of weeks.

Letting this fake engagement go on for weeks was something he refused to allow to happen.

“The orchestra leader is signaling me. I must take the stage for our announcement,” Lord Hartford said, looking pleased with himself.

Andrew’s neck itched. He had a terrible feeling the countess wasn’t the only Hartford enjoying this little subterfuge.

Could they truly be that delusional, thinking it would become something real?

Blast it! Perhaps he needed help in controlling them.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the earl said in a deep, booming voice as the room quieted, “I have wonderful news to share. The Duke of Blackstone and my daughter, Lady Beatrice, are betrothed.” Murmurs, loud voices, gasps, and clapping bombarded Andrew’s ears; he wanted to cover them and run and hide like a young child.

Not even when Aiden had told him he and Emmeline were getting married had he felt this devastated.

Standing here now, his mind far away and looking on, as though someone else stood in his place, was an odd feeling.

He wanted to yell out and explain to the two hundred people in the ballroom that it was false.

Instead, he stayed silent, his body trembling and sweating again.

He thought there was a very real chance he might fall unconscious for the first time in his life. And wouldn’t that be a shock?

“I want to thank the Marquess and Marchioness of Tremont for letting me make this joyous announcement at their lovely ball.” He held up a glass of champagne. “Let the dancing begin.”

As always, the dancing began with a quadrille, and he begged off, instead escorting Lady Beatrice to Langford, Lilly, and Caldwell as all eyes followed them.

“Congratulations, Blackstone,” Lilly said in a clipped voice with an angry look.

He bowed. “Thank you, Countess.”

“It’s fake,” Lady Beatrice whispered, looking pale and embarrassed, so only their close circle could hear. “It will be over soon, and he can return to Mrs. Fitzpatrick. I hate that she was dragged into my mother’s delusions. It’s not fair to either Blackstone or her.”

“Indeed,” Lady Langford said. “However, sometimes fake things have a way of becoming real.”

“Not this time,” Andrew said. He turned his attention to Langford and Caldwell. “Do you know of anyone seeking a bride besides Hollingsworth?”

“No,” Langford replied. “But let me mull it over.”

“Me as well,” Caldwell said. “My brother needs a wife and keeper, but I’m afraid Lady Beatrice won’t do.” He nodded his head toward her. “You are gracious and kind, and my brother needs a lady capable of leading men into battle against France.”

Lady Beatrice laughed, then covered it up. “Forgive me.”

“Not necessary—I speak the truth. I wouldn’t want to foist him off on someone so innocent and kind as yourself,” Caldwell said thoughtfully. “He would make you miserable.”

“Please,” she begged, “if he’ll have me, I will marry him anyway. I refuse to allow this sham of an engagement to go on longer than necessary. At this point, I have resigned myself to a loveless and unhappy marriage, and it’s nothing I don’t deserve.”

“Nonsense, Lady Beatrice,” Caldwell said. “None of this is your doing.”

“No, it is not,” she replied. “Yet here we are.”

Listening to Caldwell and Lady Beatrice speak as though they were alone made Andrew think wild things. Despite what he’d said earlier to the earl, the two of them may make the perfect couple after all.

Their conversation was interrupted when the next set began with a waltz, and Andrew knew everyone would expect the newly affianced couple to take to the dance floor. He turned to Lady Beatrice and bowed. “May I have this dance?”

She placed her hand on his forearm, and he escorted her through the crush of bodies onto the dance floor. He led her around the polished floor and noticed how graceful she was. “You dance beautifully,” he said.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” she said with a blush. “I had the best dancing master in London.”

“Indeed. I’m sure he knew if he didn’t take you on as his pupil, your mother would, no doubt, ruin him.”

She looked affronted. “She is not all that bad, Your Grace. She has my best interests in mind.”

“Yes, how well I know. Why is she not on her way to the country by now?”

“My father always forgives her.”

Not liking that answer, he made a mental note to watch his back.

Could he have welcomed the fox into the hen house with his agreement to a fake engagement?

When there was a slowing in the tempo and a reprieve from twirling, he asked, “What did you think when your father told you about the plan?” He studied her face carefully for any sign of deception.

By all appearances, she appeared an innocent young lady, but she was her mother’s daughter after all.

“Truthfully, I was shocked. First, my heart was broken when I found out about Baron Godfrey and how he deceived me, and then when Papa told me about our engagement and that it was fake.” Her eyes looked sad.

“That he was looking for a gentleman to marry me off to.” Her eyes suddenly turned angry and fierce.

“How would you feel, Your Grace, if people toyed with your life and future? If you never had a say in anything?”

“Quite angry, I imagine. Fortunately, I was born a male and am now a duke. However, I understand somewhat, thanks to your mother and what she did to me.”

“I’m sorry, my parents go too far this time, pulling you into their schemes.

And I’m just a pawn in their chess game, as always, being moved from square to square for their benefit.

They get my hopes up, and then, in time, I will be cast aside and thrust onto some other man to do with me as he will.

My feelings and emotions are scattered all over.

One moment, I want to scream, and the next, cry my heart out. ”

The way she described her life sounded terrible. At least it appeared he had Lady Beatrice’s support in ending the ruse as quickly as possible.

When the last chord played, he escorted Lady Beatrice to her parents, made excuses, and left the ball, seeking the solitude of his study and a bottle of brandy. His mind and feelings were scattered as well, and he needed to mull things over before he exploded.