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B eatrice slid her arm through Amos’s. This was it, the final ball of the season. There were some smaller events happening later in the week, but she finally made it the last official ball of the season.

Beatrice looked up to Amos who was sporting a confident grin as he walked her to the middle of the ballroom.

“Careful, Lady Beatrice,” Amos whispered. “Your mother might get the wrong impression about your intentions following this season if she sees you smiling that big.”

Beatrice bumped his shoulder as she giggled. It was true, she was smiling and she had to admit she was having a grand time with Amos. He was intelligent, funny, and loved mystery novels almost as much as she did.

The music began just as Amos placed his hand on her waist. It was no wonder her mother always saw him dancing, he started their movement with such grace and elegance.

“Have you given any thought to our last conversation?” Amos asked breezily as he twirled her around to the outside of the circle.

The ease in which he did so was astonishing.

She had never danced with such a skilled dancer before.

Most of the men clopped around, she was lucky to leave a ball with only pained toes.

He isn’t the only good dancer I’ve danced with.

With the thought the movement around her slowed as the air around her changed. It felt charged, somehow, as if the whole room began to hum with electricity. The hairs on her neck rose as she felt eyes descend on her. Eyes she thought she’d never see again.

Beatrice tried to shake off the sensation and focus on the man moving her back towards the inside circle. She didn’t even know if he was there.

“Um, yes, I did. Well, I mean, briefly. There is a lot to consider when you have planned your life to be one way and now there is tempting offer.” She said with a smile.

Amos considered her words. “I understand. I am in no rush, but I know you have a deadline with your mother.”

Beatrice cocked her head. “How do you know about that?”

Amos lifted a shoulder.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “What did my mother bribe you with this time?”

Amos threw his head back and laughed. “She is a brazen thing, isn’t she? No. No bribery, or hostage situation, she just mentioned if I could try a bit harder to convince you to take my offer she would appreciate it.”

Beatrice turned towards where she last saw her mother. She was still there, speaking with a friend and throwing happy glances their way.

“Does she know… about you?” Beatrice whispered.

Amos lightly shook his head and dropped his voice. “I only tell those I need to.”

Beatrice looked back up to him. “But you barely knew me when you told me.”

Amos shrugged again. “I told you I am a good judge of character. Was I right to trust you?”

Beatrice shook her head quickly. “Yes.”

Amos gestured to her mother. “Am I wrong not to trust her?”

Beatrice followed his line of sight and saw her mother and another woman flitting their fans in front of their faces, the tell-tale-sign of spreading gossip.

Beatrice grimaced. “I love my mother dearly. But, no, you were not wrong not to trust her.”

Amos gave a small smile. “But I trust you.”

Beatrice looked back up to him and felt some relief. Her grief has subsided in some manner, she no longer spent more time crying than not and she owed that to Amos. He bought her favorite chocolates, gifted her with a new book, and had been pleasant company throughout all of this.

“I am humbled by your trust, my Lord.”

Amos smiled as the music reached it final notes. “I think you can call me Amos if you’d like.”

Beatrice’s smile warmed. “That would be lovely… Amos.”

Amos brought her hand up to his mouth and placed a chaste kiss on her wrist.

It would have been a nice gesture had Graham not been standing behind Amos. As Amos lowered to kiss her hand, Beatrice’s eyes landed on Graham.

Her world tilted and she lost her breath.

His green eyes had gone dark as they narrowed in on her. His posture was that of an animal ready to pounce. Pure rage pumped off of him in waves.

Amos righted himself and must have saw the distress on her face.

“Beatrice? Is everything all right?”

She couldn’t speak, she continued to stare through Amos, directly in the Duke’s direction.

“Come, let’s get you some punch. It’s hot in here. Perhaps you just need a break.”

She tried to lick her dry her lips, but it did no good, her mouth was just as dry. Beatrice let Amos take her to the refreshment table and gratefully accepted the cup of punch.

She drank it until it was all gone.

“My. You must have been thirsty.” Amos said, looking her over, making sure she was stable. “What happened? You just went white.”

Beatrice opened her mouth when a shadow darkened the spot next to her.

“Lady Beatrice.” Graham stated.

Beatrice looked up to him. Her heart was beating so quickly, she couldn’t hear over the thumping in her chest.

“Your Grace, it is nice to see you.”

Graham barely acknowledged Amos.

“I hear your business with Stoleton is going well.” Amos offered his hand which was ignored by the Duke.

Beatrice and Graham stood in silence as they stared at each other. Amos’s eyes bounced between the two of them.

“Why do I feel like I’m interrupting a conversation?” Amos asked eyeing both of them suspiciously.

“What was that?” Graham asked.

Amos lifted his hands. “Nothing, Your Grace.” He took Beatrice by the elbow. “Would you like to get some air, Beatrice?”

Graham bristled at the common use of her name without her title.

“Actually, I was coming over here to ask if Lady Beatrice would like a dance.”

Beatrice’s eyes widened. “You were?”

Graham rocked back on his heels. “Yes.” He finally looked at Amos. “Do you mind Duncary?”

He didn’t wait for a response but grabbed Beatrice by the arm and led her to the dance floor.

Beatrice’s head began to swim. She looked back to Amos who stood there with a peculiar look on his face. She mouthed the words “I’m sorry,” to which he waved her off and rose his glass to her. He toasted her with a smile as Graham turned to her in the middle of the ballroom.

Beatrice swallowed as her eyes drifted up his body. Could this be real? Is she really doing this?

Her heart and mind were at war. Her heart missed being in his presence, while her mind was still reeling from the way he kicked her out of his house.

Her mind won.

Anger over took the hurt as her eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

“Who do you think you are coming in here and demanding a dance with me?”

Graham quirked an eye brow. “I did no such thing. I simply said I was going to ask you to dance, in fact, I don’t think I even asked.” His eyes went to Amos who was still standing there, comfortably watching them. “I asked Duncary, but I didn’t ask you.”

Beatrice scowled. “Exactly. You didn’t ask me, you pulled me out here like some barbarian.”

Graham smiled wickedly. “A barbarian would throw you over his shoulder.” He thought for a moment. “Which I guess we could try later, if you’d like.”

Beatrice stumbled at his suggestion. “How dare you”

Graham shrugged. “What? Just because our arrangement is over doesn’t mean-”

Beatrice shook her head as tears swelled in her eyes. “Do not finish that sentence.”

Graham studied her expression carefully.

He was blissfully silent for a few moments while Beatrice’s mind wavered between finishing this dance with dignity or just running from the dance floor.

No. That wouldn’t do. It would cause a scene and put her relationship with the Duke back into question with the gossipmongers.

“You’re thinking.” Graham stated plainly.

Beatrice scowled. She forgot how well he could read her.

“Why did you want to dance with me? You’ve already made it perfectly clear what you think of me. I am of no consequence to you.”

Graham’s eye brows rose. “Ah. See that’s where you are wrong. You are of great consequence, little mouse. Which was why I reacted the way I did. But I was right, you are not for me.”

Beatrice had heard those words from him before, yet they hurt just as much as the first time. She opened her mouth to question why insisted on dancing with her when his words stopped her short.

“But you are not for Duncary either.”

Beatrice’s eyes flew to Graham’s, whose have hardened since the beginning of their dance.

“What do you mean?” Did Graham know about Amos’s proclivities? She didn’t know if she was going to take his offer, but she didn’t want to see harm come to him either way.

“You are too strong to be tied down. You are too beautiful to sit on someone’s shelf. You will not be happy with him.”

Beatrice lifted her chin. “That is none of your concern.” She sniffed.

Graham’s jaw ticked. “My concern or not I know you, mouse. I know you don’t want this, him.” His head motioned to where Amos was standing, now talking with friends.

Beatrice’s body warmed when he used his pet name for her.

She tried cooling her body by recalling the utter humiliation and embarrassment this man had caused her.

However, every time her mind replayed her sleepless nights full of tears, her body remembered how his touch felt, how passionate his kisses were.

This time the war between her heart and mind didn’t have a clear victor.

Graham lowered his head to whisper in her ear. “You once agreed to do everything I asked of you. I’m asking you not to do this.” His voice was low, his warm breath sent tingles down her spine.

Her body and heart yearned to lean into him, while her mind finally pushed through with their very last conversation.

“I don’t understand. Do you not like that?”

“No. I enjoy it very much. But…”

“Not from me.”

Beatrice cowered within his hold. She felt the floor give out from underneath her as her mind replayed that scene over and over again. It was something she wished she could edit from the story of he life, but she feared she was doomed to relive it over and over again