Beatrix burst out laughing at this unexpected crudeness from the duke, drawing the attention of several other couples dancing, and—Beatrix noted from beneath dark lashes—the increasingly narrow-eyed scowl of James as he now stood distractedly on the edge of the circle of their friends, openly staring at them.
Gabriel grinned down at her. “I blame Victory for my more colorful language nowadays.”
Beatrix continued to chuckle. “I like your wife very much.”
“As do I.” He nodded. “Not least because she can swear like a London dockworker when annoyed or angry. She is also the reason I bother to wake up in the mornings and has become both the sun and moon to me.” He ghosted his fingertip across Beatrix’s painted jaw.
“That is how love should be,” Beatrix approved. “Not an offer of marriage”—she glanced across the room to where James stood—“accompanied by the assurance that gentleman will protect me, and my scars, from the world, and he does not mind at all forgoing being a part of Society.”
Blackborne raised one dark brow. “Is that how James proposed to you?”
She smiled at the disapproval in his tone. “It is. And perhaps he had reason to feel he must offer for me in that manner. But it is not how I wish to become any man’s wife. There must be mutual respect as well as love. I am sure that James does respect me,” she assured as the duke would have spoken. “But I wish to be my husband’s equal, not his burden. I hope that this evening is the start of James realizing how little I am in need of that type of protective love.”
Beatrix knew that, as much as James might proclaim his love for her, he must learn she was not just a ripe plum available for the picking and his marriage proposal would be eagerly accepted because no other gentleman had offered or ever would offer for her.
She truly believed James loved rather than pitied her, but she also believed that a fruit so easily plucked would not be valued as it should be. As such, she had decided James needed to at least think he was not the only gentleman who wished to win her heart.
A harsh lesson, perhaps, and extremely difficult for Beatrix to leave the protection of Surrey to achieve it, but also necessary. Beatrix truly believed James must be made to fight for the love she already felt for him if he were ever to value her as a whole person.
“If it is bothering you so much, then ask her to dance yourself,” Benedict drawled mockingly.
James barely glanced at the older man at his side as he continued to glower at Beatrix being twirled about the Blackbornes’ dance floor by yet another buck flirting outrageously with her. As had been the case for the past two hours or more. No sooner had Beatrix danced a set with one young gentleman than another or several were lining up to take his place.
This evening, Beatrix had become, James recognized, all the rage, as both women and men watched her with admiration and wished to be part of her social circle.
James did not begrudge her that success. He just wished she would allow him to be a part of it.
He turned briefly to give Benedict a scowl. “What makes you think anything is bothering me?”
“Possibly because of the way you are gripping the delicate stem of one of my grandfather’s valued champagne glasses so tightly, you are like to snap it at any moment.” Blackborne, having joined them, now plucked the glass from James’s clenched fingers and handed it to a passing footman. “Why have you not yet invited Beatrix to dance?” he prompted curiously.
“Probably because her dance card already appears to be full!” James only just stopped himself from gnashing his teeth together in disapproval of all this other male attention being directed toward the woman he loved.
“I am sure Beatrix would happily spare one dance for an old friend—”
“I am not her friend!” James snapped. “Nor do I require her to dance with me because she pities me.” He was aware he sounded and was behaving like a spoilt child whose coveted prize had been usurped by another.
Possibly because that was how he felt!
He had met Beatrix during her seclusion in Surrey, and he had enjoyed having her to himself during that time, between their long conversations as they got to know each other and also singing with her when she played the piano. They had even played chess together a couple of times. At the time, James had believed Beatrix had enjoyed doing those things with him too.
He had certainly fallen in love with her over the course of those few days they had spent together.
He had thought Beatrix had grown to love him in return, and instead—
“Pity, no matter what the reason, is usually unwanted and will almost certainly be rejected,” Benedict acknowledged softly.
James eyed Beatrix’s brother searchingly. Surely Benedict did not mean… His friend could not think…
Dear God, did Beatrix think James had asked her to marry him out of a sense of pity?
Benedict quirked one dark and pointed eyebrow before turning to once again watch the couples moving about the dance floor.
James wasted no more time on brooding or jealousy as he strode determinedly through the dancing couples to where he could see Beatrix being twirled about in the arms of Lord Leopold Shepherd, wealthy heir of his father, the Earl of Twyford.
Chapter Three
Beatrix had been aware all evening of James’s glowering presence on the edge of the dance floor, a frown marring his brow as he glared at whichever young man was her current dance partner.
She would be lying if she didn’t admit to enjoying the attention and compliments of those other gentlemen. But that was all she felt, her heart already given to the stubborn and scowling gentleman who seemed unable to take
