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B eatrice stood off to the side with her mother watching Sarah and her husband, the Duke of Stoleton, welcome their guests as everyone entered their home.

“Come,” Charlotte whispered in Beatrice’s ear. “Let’s make our way to the parlor. I think Eleanor is in there already.”

Beatrice followed her mother into her sister’s parlor. There was a drink cart set up and the furniture was moved from its original setting to allow for more people. Somehow the shift allowed for more seating, yet more room to move around.

Charlotte walked them to the cart and poured Beatrice some punch. “I wonder who all is coming. Sarah told me but in my old age I must’ve forgotten.”

Beatrice raised an eyebrow. Her mother was far from her maiden days but she was far from old.

“I know Jane will be here with her parents but that’s all I know.” Beatrice took a small sip of her punch as her sister Sarah walked into the parlor with a peculiar look on her face.

“Sarah?” Charlotte questioned. “Are you all right? Is everything all right with the children?”

Sarah waved her mother off. “Yes, everything’s fine with them.” She turned and looked at Beatrice and she winced.

“Beatrice. The Duke of Graham is here.”

Beatrice looked between her mother and her sister. “Should this concern me?”

Sarah and Charlotte exchanged looks.

Charlotte’s whole body heaved with her sigh. “I told you, Beatrice.”

Ignoring her mother’s dramatics Beatrice looked back to Sarah. “What is she talking about? Why does it matter that the Duke of Graham is here? Didn’t you know who you were inviting to your own dinner party?”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “Well, yes. I know who I invited, but I didn’t know who Charles invited.”

Beatrice still didn’t know how Graham being here should concern her.

“But he’s investing in a venture with Charles so Charles invited him.”

Beatrice took a sip of her punch, nonplussed.

“Beatrice! Are you daft? Have you not been hearing what people are saying?” Sarah exclaimed.

Beatrice’s heart slowed. “People? What are people saying?”

Sarah looked at her mother for help but the woman was too busy fanning herself with a napkin.

Her sister took a deep breath. “It’s nothing too serious… as of yet. But people are starting to note that you and the Duke of Graham spend a lot of time together.”

Beatrice took a breath of relief. No one was talking about their midnight rendezvous at the masked party, only about them dancing. That she could handle.

“Sarah.” She said pointedly. “First of all, we danced and talked at two balls. Oh no! Quick write the banns.” She added an eye roll for emphasis. “And secondly, he’s a Duke, should you have me shun him and not accept his invitation to dance?”

Sarah’s eyes bulged. “That’s just it, Beatrice. He doesn’t usually enter into conversations willingly and he has done so with you.” She stuck another finger up in the air. “And two, he never dances and he’s danced twice with you!”

Beatrice tried the trick of standing in awkward silence with her sister, hoping Sarah was like her mother and would change the subject to something less scandalous. It didn’t work.

“Are you going to say anything?” Sarah cried.

Beatrice shrugged. “What would you have me say? If it were anyone else it wouldn’t register with anyone but because he’s a Duke you are all up in arms.”

Sarah looked at Charlotte sheepishly. “I’m not all up in arms. I just wanted you to know people are talking and where’s there talk, there’s rumors. And where’s there’s rumors, there’s ruins-”

“Don’t say the word!” Charlotte gasped.

Beatrice grimaced. “Oh, Mama. It’s not like by saying the word makes it happen.”

Charlotte’s gaze flew to Beatrice. “Why risk it? All Sarah is saying is to be careful. I told you while the Duke is well respected and reputable, he is seen in some not-so-reputable places and is known to have questionable tastes. You are not granted such allowances. Please be mindful of your reputation.”

Beatrice tightened her grip on her glass she was afraid she’d break it. She was tired of the double standards that allowed men to do as they please with women, but the same women had no such freedom.

It was another reason why the life of a spinster was so appealing to her. The idea she would only have herself to answer to was invigorating.

If she could only complete her list she would feel better about the next phase of her life.

As if the devil heard his cue, Graham walked into the parlor.

It was as if all the air was sucked out of the room and she was standing in a vacuum. There was no one but him, no where else to look but to where he was, no other sound, but the sound of his voice.

“Lady Beatrice.” Graham’s voice spoke to her.

With a breath of new life, Beatrice’s eyes flittered up his broad chest, past his perfectly tied cravat, hesitating briefly on his full lips, before finally landing on his deep green eyes.

Her body swayed under his attention.

“Your Grace.” She dipped her head.

“Your Grace, how lovely it is to see you again.” Charlotte stepped forward, offering her hand.

Without missing a beat, Graham took her hand and placed a chaste kiss upon it.

“Your Grace, the honor is all mine.” His smile was charming, his speech impeccable, his body language perfect.

Beatrice was in awe of his ability to be the dashing Duke when he needed to.

Although, she preferred his more devilish side.

Heat rushed to her cheeks at the turn of her thoughts.

She cleared her throat and placed a wide smile on her face, hoping she didn’t seem as awkward as she suddenly felt.

“Did you enjoy Lady Joynor’s ball?” Charlotte asked. “I hope my daughter didn’t occupy too much of your time.” She quipped with a quick look to her youngest daughter.

Beatrice took a breath to steady her breathing. She crossed her fingers behind her back, hoping her mother wouldn’t say anything to embarrass her.

Her mother rose an eye brow in the Duke’s direction.

Who was she kidding? Of course her mother would embarrass her.

Beatrice looked helplessly to Sarah.

With a sigh Sarah stepped forward. “I’m sure she didn’t, Mama. You know Beatrice would much rather be alone with her books than at a ball. She most likely retreated to a corner to read one of the books she smuggled in. Isn’t that right, Beatrice?”

At the mention of books Beatrice’s mind switched from proper etiquette in a parlor setting to the opera scene in ’To Love a Traitor.’ Her heart began to beat faster and nervous laughter bubbled out of her.

“Beatrice! What has come over you?” Charlotte questioned.

Beatrice took a few gulps of air to quell the nervous laughter. “I’m sorry,” she coughed and placed a hand over her chest. “I don’t know. Um… please forgive me I need some more punch.” She stepped to the side to hopefully slip past the Duke but he raised his arm to stop her.

“Actually, Your Grace, after our dance we ended up having a lovely conversation about books.” Graham shifted his body to further impede Beatrice’s escape. She had no choice but to turn back to the conversation but not before giving a quick sneer in the Duke’s direction.

Beatrice could feel the color drain from her face when she saw the look of amusement on Sarah’s face and the look of concern on her mother’s. Surely this wasn’t happening.

Sarah tilted her head in interest. “Oh? What books did you discuss?”

Beatrice looked at the window. She wondered if it was double paned. Maybe with enough force she could break through it if she threw herself hard enough.

“She actually mentioned you in our discussion.” Graham noted.

Sarah’s eyes widened and lit with glee. “Did she now? I find that most curious since the types of books I favor differ heavily from the ones she does.”

Graham looked to Beatrice with a sly grin.

She pushed out a breath and accepted her fate.

She was not going to leave this conversation alive, or at least without a stern look from her mother.

A stern look from her mother would turn into a long lecture, which would lead to hysterics, and more arguing.

Who’s to say which was worse this point?

Death or another argument about her future with her mother?

Beatrice glanced to the window again. If only if it were slightly opened…

“She did mention that you two read vastly different books, but there was one of yours in particular that she did fancy.” Graham furrowed his brows in concentration. “What was it again, Lady Beatrice. I can’t remember.”

Beatrice ground her molars. He was toying with her and he knew she had no recourse that wouldn’t lead to embarrassment.

“I honestly don’t remember, Your Grace. I spoke with several gentleman at Lady Joynor’s ball, I can’t be expected to remember every detail of every conversation.” She said smugly.

There. That a should quieten him for a moment. Her victory felt short lived when she heard a slight intake of air come from her mother.

“Beatrice.” She chided. “Your Grace, please forgive my daughter for her brash tongue.”

Beatrice dropped her shoulders. Her mother could be so perplexing. One minute she is scolding her for giving the Duke too much attention, the next she is berating her for putting him in his place.

“No need to apologize, Your Grace.” Graham smiled with ease. “I’d rather have a woman be honest with me than to placate me with unfounded niceties.”

Sarah waved her hand to clear the air. “We appreciate your candor, Your Grace.” She looked over her shoulder towards her butler who was standing in the doorway. “If you’ll excuse me, I think dinner is about to be served. I want to check on a few things before we eat.”

Sarah kissed her mother on the cheek before giving a nod to Graham and a cheeky wink to Beatrice.

“Oh, Eleanor is back.” Charlotte exclaimed. “Beatrice, we must go say hello to her before we sit down.” Charlotte turned to Graham. “If you will pardon us, Your Grace. We should say hello to my oldest before dinner.”

Graham dipped his head and stepped off to the side to allow them to pass.