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Beatrice rolled her lips as she shuffled her feet. For some reason, her body felt foreign to her whenever his gaze focused so intently onto her. Under his microscope she felt exposed and she wasn’t quite sure how she felt about that.

She lifted a shoulder. “Those are her favorites.” Her words came out as a hushed breath.

Graham straightened and swirled the punch in his cup.

“Tell me, are they your favorites, Mouse?”

Beatrice swallowed.

She slowly shook her head from side to side.

“No?” He questioned.

“I like mysteries, adventure.”

Graham nodded absently. “Is that why I always find you in the most precarious places, scurrying around?”

Beatrice could hear the pandering in his voice but was too lost in his eyes to care.

Without allowing her to answer he continued. “So, if they’re not your favorite kind of story, why is a scene from them so stuck in your mind that you wish to recreate it?”

If Beatrice had her wits about her she would have replied that recreating a murder scene would be disastrous for all involved, but her mind played a very different scenario.

All she could see was the words of the opera scene playing out in front of her. A woman and a man alone in an opera box with wandering hands, and long, passionate kisses. Beatrice’s eyes fluttered close as she became lost to the scene.

Graham hummed in interest. “Your face is flushed. What are you imagining, little mouse?”

His pet name for her brought her back to reality.

“The book is ‘To Love a Traitor’ I suggest you read it. It is… enthralling.” Movement from her side caught her eye. “I have to go, my mother is motioning for me.”

Graham tilted his head. “Noted. Farewell, Mouse. I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other soon.”

Graham’s parting words caused Beatrice to misstep. She couldn’t control her body’s reactions to him and something told her that would become a problem the more they see each other.

“Was that the Duke of Graham you were speaking with?” Charlotte said as her fan waved in front of her face.

“It was.” Beatrice tugged at the lace around her neck.

“You danced with him as well.” Charlotte added.

Beatrice shook her head. “Yes.”

Charlotte ran a curious eye over her daughter. “Is there… should I…” Charlotte scrunched her nose. “No. There’s nothing there, right?”

Beatrice laughed. “Heavens, no. I ran into him while I was looking for Jane, hoping she’d remind me of Lord Devlin’s son’s name. I figured since I ran into him on the dance floor that I should accept his offer to dance.”

Charlotte gasped. “He asked you to dance?”

Beatrice looked pointedly at her mother. “Well I wasn’t going to ask him.”

Charlotte bristled. “It’s just that he’s not known to be so giving of his time. I’m surprised by his actions, not yours.”

Beatrice didn’t know how to respond to her mother so she stood hoping the awkwardness of them silently staring at each other would drive her mother to change the topic.

“Shall we go? You’d think for a woman who wants everyone to rave about her parties she would invest in some more windows or doors. It is an inferno in here.”

Beatrice smiled. Her mother was an easy read.

“I would love to go. My feet hurt.”

Charlotte swatted at her daughter in excitement. “Oh, we should go find Lady Joynor and tell her. She’ll just love that!”

Beatrice took her mother’s arm. “Wonderful. While we’re add it, we’ll tell her that she should also invest in some more windows or doors. I’m sure she’d appreciate that as well.” Beatrice added with a wink to her mother.

Ezra downed his second whisky of the night. He bit back a groan as the burn coated his throat. He’d been on edge ever since he left Joynor’s ball. He was hoping a stop at the club and some drinks would help soothe him.

“Ah, you’re here.” Frederic clapped him on the back.

So much for relaxation.

“The missus let you out tonight?” Ezra commented as he signaled for another drink.

Frederic sat down next to Ezra with a mock laugh. “Ha. Ha. Very funny. I’ll have you know she lets me do whatever I want… as long as I ask her first.”

Ezra smiled as the barkeep filled his tumbler and brought Frederic is own.

He may still think of Harriet as his little sister in need of protection, but ever since that bastard of a Duke ruined her, she had grown into a strong and capable young woman.

Ezra knew exactly who was the head of Frederic’s household and it wasn’t the man sitting next to him.

“I head Joynor had a ball tonight and that you were in attendance.” Frederic motioned to Ezra with his tumbler.

Ezra grimaced. “People talk too much.”

Frederic laughed. “And I thank my lucky stars for that. I wouldn’t know anything if they didn’t.”

Ezra swirled his drink. “Is there a point to this conversation? Or did you just want to prove that Harriet lets you out of the house every once in a while?”

Frederic took a healthy sip of his whisky, his mouth pulling back at the burn.

“Both.” Frederic said as he coughed.

Ezra reached out to pat his friend on the back. “You’ve gone soft on me, brother. You hardly come out any more.”

Frederic smiled. “When you have a woman like Harriet at home, there’s no need to leave.” His wink had Ezra cringing.

“I’m going home.” Ezra pushed away from the table.

Frederic barked out a laugh. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I swear, no more talk of your sister as my loving and willing wi-”

Ezra stood while Frederic pulled him back down. “That was the last one. I swear.”

Ezra considered his friend before fully relaxing back into his chair.

“So why are you really here?”

“I was in town doing some business and I heard about the ball and, to my surprise, I heard your appearance made quite the stir.”

Ezra furrowed his brows. “How so? All I did was dance with Lady Beatrice.”

Frederic’s eyes widened as a bright smile lit his face. “So you admit it!”

Ezra cocked his head to the side, utterly confused as to what his friend was going on about. “Of course I admit it. Why wouldn’t I? I was there, she was there, we ran into each other on the dance floor and I asked her to dance since we were both out there.”

Frederic held up his hand. “Hold on a moment. You were in the middle of the dance floor?”

Ezra sighed, this conversation was becoming exhausting. “Yes.”

“And you don’t see how people would consider that strange?”

Ezra continued to look on in confusion.

“You,” Frederic drew out. “You. On the dance floor. What? You were just wondering around and found yourself in the middle of a dance floor? Does that sound like something you would normally do?”

Ezra once again swirled the liquid in his tumbler.

“Just because I haven’t done it in the past doesn’t mean it’s odd behavior.

I was walking, trying to avoid people and I found myself in the middle of the dance floor.

What was odd was that there was empty space on the dance floor to walk.

If anything someone should talk to Lady Joynor, she’s losing her grip on exciting balls. ”

Frederic blinked at his friend. “Do you hear yourself?”

Ezra shrugged, tired of this conversation.

“And Lady Beatrice just happened to be there at the same time?”

Ezra nodded. “I didn’t drag her out there if that’s what you’re insinuating.”

Frederic sat back and considered his friend. He rubbed his face then leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“I’m willing to concede that your dance was happenstance, but what about afterwards?People told me you were spotted speaking with her in a darkened doorway.”

Ezra groaned. “This is why I hate the peerage and society events. Vultures. All of them. Each out to make something out of nothing.”

Frederic raised an eyebrow. “Again, you’re not denying it.”

Ezra pushed out a breath. “Yes! I was talking to her, heaven forbid! And it was not a darkened doorway, it was just beside the refreshment table where anyone could have heard our casual conversation about books.”

Frederic sat up with a bewildered look. “Books? Now who’s going soft? You’re semi-alone with a woman and you talk books with her?”

Ezra finished his drink. “I’m done for the night, Frederic. Give my best to Harriet.”

Ezra turned to leave when his friend grabbed him by the arm. “Just be careful, yeah? People are starting to talk and you, of all people, know where talking can lead.”

Ezra’s body recoiled at Frederic’s insinuation that his arrangement with Beatrice would lead anywhere near her ruination.

He shrugged Frederic’s hand off. “I know what I’m doing, Frederic. You worry about yours, I’ll worry about mine.”

Ezra left the club not realizing that, intentionally or not, he had called Beatrice his and it didn’t feel wrong.