Nine days—and nights—during which James had attended every Social event Beatrix had: two musical soirees, a luncheon, a visit to a museum, an intimate dinner for forty, and yet another ball. And each time, James had been put in the position of watching Beatrix from afar as she charmed every gentleman who spoke or danced with her. James wasn’t one of the latter, mainly because each time he attempted to secure a dance with Beatrix it was to learn her dance card was again already full.
Beatrix, and those beautifully painted scenes upon her creamy cheeks and throat had, as predicted, become all the rage. As such, her company was sought after by both the young ladies and gentlemen of the ton.
“I had believed, despite Beatrix having refused you,” the older man snapped as he landed yet another blow to the tautness of James’s stomach, “that you would not give up so easily as you have done in your pursuit of her.”
“I have not given up anything,” James assured evenly, less than pleased at being reminded of the fact Beatrix had refused him. “Least of all my pursuit of Beatrix.”
Her response to him nine days ago when they were outside on the Blackbornes’ terrace had revealed, whatever Beatrix’s reasons for having refused his marriage proposal almost three weeks ago, it was not because she did not feel the same desire for him as he felt for her.
Desire was a big improvement on the indifference, or—God forbid—aversion, James had previously feared she might feel toward him.
“You caused a…situation, at the Blackbornes’ ball, and then had the audacity to just disappear,” Benedict accused.
He landed a blow against Benedict’s jaw. “My sister informs me that the duke’s guests accepted that I had left the ball because of ill health. God knows I was looking pale enough in the face from my overindulgence in brandy the previous week for them not to question that excuse. Nor, I am informed, did anyone comment upon Beatrix’s return to the ballroom in my sister’s company. I also believe,” he continued determinedly, “that if Beatrix is at the center of anything, then it is as the spearhead of the new fashion for ladies which has swept through the ton since her appearance in Society nine days ago.” Every woman in Society James had set eyes on since had proudly displayed a painted flower or another pretty image upon her cheek.
Benedict glared at him. “That is hardly the point.”
“That is exactly the point.” James nimbly skipped out of the way of the other man’s right fist.
“You kissed her that night!” Benedict’s left fist landed a heavy blow to James’s abdomen.
“Did Beatrix tell you that?”
“Your sister did,” Benedict revealed reluctantly.
“I see I shall have to have words with Bethany regarding her lack of discretion. As to my having kissed Beatrix…” James shrugged. “Have you never kissed a pretty woman or two when attending a ball?” he taunted. “And felt the thrill of having her kiss you back,” he challenged.
Dark eyes narrowed. “I will remind you that is my sister you are referring to.”
“And I would kiss Beatrix again, and hope to have her kiss me back, if the opportunity ever arises.” He waited until the other man’s guard dropped slightly in his indignation before placing another blow to Benedict’s jaw.
“To hell with this!” Benedict stepped away impatiently to remove the binding about his knuckles and step out of the ring. “I like you, James, and when you asked for my permission to court and marry my sister, if she was agreeable, I gave it. Beatrix was not agreeable. That being the case, I suggest, as I know you have agreed to be one of the guests at the Shaftesburys’ dinner party this evening, and Beatrix will be accompanying Chloe and me, that you keep a tight rein on any desire you might feel to kiss my sister again whilst we are there.”
His mouth twisted. “I doubt I shall be able to get close enough to her to kiss her. No doubt after the ball last Saturday and all the social events Beatrix has attended since, you have had a line of men outside Winter House eager to call and pay their respects to her?”
“No doubt,” the other man confirmed unhelpfully. “All the more reason for you to heed my warning in regard to Beatrix’s reputation. I am sure, now that Beatrix has left the seclusion of Surrey, that we all wish her well in meeting and marrying the man she loves. God knows she now has enough to choose from,” he added morosely, obviously not enjoying having been thrust into the role of chaperone during the evening events they attended, or when his sister’s suiters came to call the following morning.
James suffered from no such largesse of feelings toward any of his rivals. If Beatrix married anyone, it was going to be him. He was likely to kill any other man who attempted to usurp her affections.
But he would not allow such dark thoughts to dampen his pleasure at the thought of seeing Beatrix again this evening, of being with her.
Indeed, there was a lightness in his step as he thought of the plans he had put in place for later tonight.
“You did not really tell James that I have beaus lining up outside the door and down the street,” Beatrix voiced her dismay.
“He suggested it. I merely agreed to his speculation on the subject,” Benedict dismissed, having returned from the boxing saloon in time to join his wife and sister for afternoon tea.
“You know very well I have refused to see any and all of the gentlemen who have called during this past week.” In truth, Beatrix was slightly in shock from the number of handsome gentlemen who had called at Winter House since
