Page 28

B eatrice slammed her book shut. It’s been four days since Anne smuggled her letter out of the house and delivered it to Graham’s house. When she didn’t receive a response the day after she told herself he may have needed time to come up with a cheeky response.

When no letter arrived the following day, she convinced herself that he was busy doing important Duke things, like riding, or counting, or doing whatever it was Duke’s did.

The third day came and went and her mother declared her unfit for social events. To her mother’s defense Beatrice admitted to throwing the muffin at her mother when she asked Beatrice to pass to the basket of muffins to her.

Yesterday was one of the longest days of her life. She started the day declaring she absolutely done with the Duke and she was glad he didn’t respond. By lunch she was in tears in her room. The afternoon brought the calm before the storm and she enjoyed a nice walk around her mother’s gardens.

That was until she tripped on a stick and declared war against nature and vowed to seek revenge against the tree that lost it’s branch. She stomped back to her house and went straight up to her room to pace the room long into the night.

Beatrice looked at her reflection. Her head fell into her hands. This was pointless. No matter what she did she couldn’t focus on anything. If she kept losing her temper with everyone her mother may send her to an asylum, and rightfully so.

She looked back up and met her eyes in the mirror. She saw hurt and embarrassment but she something else. The small glimmer of the defiance and rebellion sparking from deep within and Beatrice knew exactly what she needed to do.

Beatrice’s fist pounded on Graham’s door. She took a step back, collecting her thoughts. She knew exactly what she was going to say him, she repeated it to herself on her fast paced walk over here. All she needed know was for someone to open the door.

She knocked again. No answer.

Beatrice leaned over the railing and tried to peer through the sidelight window next to the door. The entryway has dark and empty from what she could see.

“Drat.”

Stubbornness had her wanting to knock again, even kick the door, if need be. But the etiquette that was ingrained in her, or perhaps it was just her fatigue, had her stepping away from the stoop.

She heard a giggle squeal from the back of the house.

Beatrice picked up her skirts and tiptoed to the side of the house where she saw a valet and maid flirting.

The back door opened causing the couple to laugh.

The young woman was pulling at the man’s arm while he stood and talked to whomever was in the doorway.

There was a little voice in her head daring her to follow them. Beatrice had flashes of the party Graham took her to and how watching that couple that night made her feel. Butterflies began to swarm in her stomach.

“Leave the door unlocked, Sam.. We’ll try not to be too long.” The valet called out with a wink.

Leave the door unlocked?

Beatrice held her breath as the couple scurried away into the darkness. She watched them as until disappeared down the darkened alley. When they were out of sight she quietly made her way to the door. She looked around and found no one so she turned the knob, praying for a quiet hinges.

To her great luck, the door opened quietly. She peaked through the door to find the hallway empty. She slid her body through and held her breath as she closed the door behind her.

She gingerly stepped down the hallway, past a darkened kitchen and a pantry. She found the steps and made her way to the first floor. There were no lights except from one doorway a few doors down.

Graham’s study.

A wicked smile curved her lips. This was better than her original plan, that would have had her being introduced. Now, she can sneak up on him and surprise him.

Heavens, her heart was beating so quickly she could hear it in her ears. If her steps didn’t give her away, her pounding heart would.

She stood in front of the study door debating on whether or not burst in and shock him, or just casually open the door, step in and see if and when he notices her.

A creak sounded behind her. Her head snapped around to find no one.

Must be the house settling.

Beatrice took in a deep, cleansing breath. If she stayed out in the hallway any longer she’d lose her nerve, and she’d come too far to turn back now.

Without knocking, she opened the door and walked in.

“I thought I told you to go to bed, old man. No need to stay up tonight.” Graham’s rough voice came from the sitting chair next his fireplace.

His shirt was unbuttoned at the top where his cravat laid open.

His sleeves were rolled up showing off those delectable forearms and he had a tumbler of what looked like whisky on the side table next to him.

Beatrice’s eyes lit up when she saw the cover of the book he was reading. It was one of her favorite mystery novels.

“Did you get to the part where they have a carriage race through the streets of London yet?”

There were no words that could describe how quickly the air changed. Without moving, or looking at her, not even acknowledging her, Beatrice felt the world shift and she was now in his sights.

She swallowed hard, trying to keep her wits about her. She caught him unaware, she needed to stay on top of her emotions if she was going to accomplish what she came here to do.

For a moment more he didn’t move, but Beatrice could see his eyes began to lift towards her. Inch by inch he rose his eyes, then his head, and met her gaze.

Her body reacted to those emerald eyes and her feet begged to take a step towards him. She remained still. She currently had the upper-hand and she didn’t want to give it up so quickly.

“Lady Beatrice,” his voice hummed, sending shivers down her body. If only she could hear him say her name every day for the rest of her life.

Focus, Beatrice! We’re not here for love!

“To what to do I owe the pleasure of seeing you tonight?” His voice was calm but she could see him shift in his chair.

A small smile broke free. She had bested the ominous Duke of Graham. She wanted to sit in this feeling a little while longer, but she had an item to cross of her list.

“My list. It seems you are reneging on your end of the deal.”

Graham slowly closed his book, set it on the table next to him and picked up his tumbler of whisky, swirling the liquid in the glass.

“How so?”

Beatrice looked on as he took a long pull from the glass, watching his throat swallow the amber liquid.

Her already ragged heart rate jumped. She took another breath to steady herself. She had surprised him yet he looked so calm and nonchalant.

How does he do that?

“We did not finish the list. You said you would help me accomplish all of my items. Disregarding the last item, which was removed from the list before you and I discussed our terms, you still owe me number five.” She straightened her back.

This was good for her. If she was to become a spinster she would need to know how to conduct business by herself. Hopefully, this was the last time she would be offering to do this kind of business, but still, she felt confident in her stance thus far.

She squared her shoulders as Graham picked up the book again to page through it. His long fingers plucked a small piece of paper from within the pages.

He used her list as a bookmark.

“Number five, you say?” His eyes wandered over the well-used paper. It used to feel jarring when she saw him hold a piece of her dreams within his hands. Now she wished she was that blasted piece of paper.

His eyes trailed from the paper up to her. Suspense hung in the air between them. She knew he was playing with her. Much like a cat would to a mouse.

Little mouse.

The pet name purred in her mind causing her eyes to flutter shut with the memory of deep kisses and rough hands.

“Cat got your tongue, mouse?”

His voice broke her reverie. She cleared her throat.

“Are you officially declining to see to your end of our deal, Your Grace?”

Graham considered her.

“And if I am?”

Beatrice forced herself to shrug even though a pit began to form in her belly.

“Then I guess I need to find another willing partner.” She looked to the window that faced the street. “Perhaps I can go back to Swarthmore’s. Those two young fellas who first congratulated us in the tavern were pleasant looking enough.”

Graham’s eyes narrowed. “You’re playing with fire, little mouse.” He growled.

Beatrice licked her suddenly dry lips. “You leave me no choice. I wrote to you, you didn’t respond, so I came here to see for myself.”

Graham remained sitting, his eyes focused on hers. She tried pulling her gaze away but she was lost to those dark green pools.

She shook her head to break the trance and cleared her throat.

“Nevertheless, you did not respond so I am here so we can officially dissolve our arrangement with no hard feelings.”

Beatrice pulled her hand behind her back and crossed her fingers. She said a silent prayer that he wouldn’t call her bluff.

Graham nodded his head as he slowly stood up.

Like a panther stalking his prey he walked ever so slowly towards her.

Her heart rate picked up with every step he took.

She found herself taking a step back as he neared her.

There was a small voice that was getting louder telling her to run.

That him not responding should have been enough for her to know he was done.

Still, she dug to find the rebellious woman who started her on this journey. She reminded herself of all the balls she had to attend, the itchy dresses, the gossip, the stares, the archaic way in which women were used for securing the blood line for men.

It was that last thought that had her straightening her back once more. She was not afraid of this man.

She looked up and met his eyes that were nearly black. All right, she was a little scared, but even that rebellious woman in her quivered when their eyes met.