With a bob of her head, she practically raced in the direction of the kitchen.
Sighing, Grey walked back to the ballroom. What the maid had told him was enlightening. It might explain Thorn’s claim that Beatrice was more worldly wise than Grey thought. She’d have to be in order to deal with her uncle’s peccadilloes.
And it might explain why she became so closed-mouthed whenever he brought up her uncle Armie.
Could she be protecting her brother? Come to think of it, she’d grown nervous again today when the subject of Wolfe had come up. This might all be about her brother. She might actually know what Sheridan already suspected—that Wolfe had murdered her uncle. She might even be complicit in it.
The possibility chilled Grey. Could she really be such a schemer? Could he be so mistaken in her character?
She had managed to charm the entire family in a matter of weeks. Look at how easily Gwyn had accepted her. And Mother, too. Even Sheridan. Could she have a reason for ingratiating herself with the family?
With him?
Grey scowled. If that was her motive, she would be disappointed. She was wrong for him for so many reasons. She wore her heart on her sleeve; he had none. She blurted out her every thought; he held his closer to his chest than his shirt. She was eager to please everyone in her orbit; he was eager to avoid everyone in his.
Yet he couldn’t look away from her as she danced, her movements graceful and her face flushing with enjoyment as she nimbly—
His eyes narrowed. She’d picked up the steps of the minuet with surprising ease for a woman who’d protested she could never learn the steps. She was a puzzle, to be sure, one that he meant to untangle.
And he must do it carefully. Thorn was right about one thing: Unless Grey meant to pursue her, his behavior toward her must be above reproach.
Never again did Grey intend to be that ten-year-old boy who craved love and attention, only to discover that the people who should have offered it—his aunt and uncle—were incapable of anything but using him to advance their own situation. Never again would he give anyone else the power to hurt him.
All the same, when he heard a door open and shut somewhere and realized it could be Thorn coming to join the ladies, he walked swiftly into the ballroom. No way in hell was he going to let his brother be the one to dance with her.
He told himself it was because he needed more of a chance to find out what had her so agitated about her uncle Armie’s death. Needed to be certain she wasn’t nurturing any secret hopes of becoming his duchess.
But the truth was, Grey simply wanted to dance with her.
So dance with her he would. He would just have to make sure to keep his wits about him as he did.
Beatrice was concentrating so hard on dancing the minuet that she didn’t notice Grey had returned until he spoke in that seductive voice of his.
“If you’re ready to dance with a partner, Miss Wolfe, I’m at your disposal.”
Gwyn greeted this announcement with a clap of her hands. “Wonderful! Beatrice really needs a man to practice with because when I take the lead, I forget what I’m doing and fall into the woman’s part. Much more of that and she’ll never get the way of it.”
Beatrice wiped her clammy hands on her skirt. What if she made a fool of herself in front of him? “The one to blame for my not having the way of it is me.”
“Nonsense.” Gwyn smiled. “You’re better than you think. And Grey will help you perfect your dancing, I’m sure.” She glanced to the door. “Or Thorn, if he’s the one to dance with you. Where is Thorn, anyway?”
When she looked to Grey for an answer, he shrugged. “Last I saw him, he was heading off to find brandy.”
“Lord help me,” Gwyn muttered. “You two start while I fetch him. But I’m not letting him dance if he’s foxed. That won’t help anyone.”
“It certainly won’t help Bea,” Gwyn’s mother remarked from the pianoforte, although Gwyn was already gone. Aunt Lydia shot Grey a defeated look. “Can’t you get Thorn to stop drinking so much, dearest?”
Grey walked into the alcove and around the pianoforte to lay a hand on her shoulder. “Everyone grieves in their own way. You try to stay busy to keep your