he’d hoped, Sheridan got defensive. “I’ve scarcely had time to breathe, much less investigate my cousin. You have no idea how bad Uncle Armie left things. He was in debt up to his roving eyes when he died.”
“Roving eyes? So you know about his dalliances.”
“Everyone knows, at least around here. How do you know?”
“As you said, everyone around here knows.”
Fortunately, his mother and sister arrived at that moment. But he couldn’t pay attention to their complaints about Thorn. He was still rattled by what he and Beatrice had just done.
Why was it that when he was alone with her, he behaved differently, even recklessly? She eroded his reserve so he acted more himself and not the haughty fellow he displayed in society to put people off.
What’s more, he liked it. Being allowed to say what he really felt was a heady intoxication that he craved as desperately as any drunkard.
Clearly, she wasn’t angling to marry a duke at any cost, as Thorn had seemed to imply. Otherwise, when Sheridan had come in on them she wouldn’t have fought so hard to hide what they’d been doing.
Devil take her for that. It made him feel like the worthless debaucher everyone thought him. He almost wished he were. Then he’d have no compunction about seducing her. Then he’d finally gain satisfaction for the yawning abyss of need he felt around her.
But no, he was a gentleman and didn’t believe in deflowering innocents he never intended to marry, even ones equally attracted to him. So somehow he must endure the next few days, perhaps weeks, of trying to elicit the truth about her brother from her without giving in to his urges.
Without showing her all the many ways they could reach ecstasy together.
The thought made his blood rise again, so fiercely he gritted his teeth. He must gain control over these impulses, damn it! Otherwise, he would find himself leg-shackled, at the mercy of a woman who couldn’t even keep from blurting out her true opinions.
And that would never do.
Beatrice sank against the wall, her heart pounding. She had to go in, but she had to compose herself first. That was no easy task, considering what she’d just overheard Sheridan and Grey discussing.
Not only had they both thought Joshua might have killed Uncle Armie, Sheridan had put Grey up to trying to learn the truth about Joshua’s actions! She fought down a wave of nausea. All this time Grey had probably only cozied up to her to find out about Joshua’s involvement in Uncle Armie’s death. What sort of fellow used a woman like that?
A heartless scoundrel, that’s who. It made his smoldering glances, forbidden kisses, and wanton caresses feel like even more of a betrayal than Uncle Armie’s. Fool that she was, she’d actually believed Grey desired her. She’d probably imagined his arousal, too caught up in the thrill of it.
What had she been thinking? A handsome man of his broad experience with women—a blasted duke as rich as Croesus—didn’t crave being with some . . . some country girl with no social graces and no knowledge of how to tempt a fellow like him. Why, Grey probably did have a cabal of lying devils like himself somewhere in London. No doubt that was where he’d learned how to make a woman’s blood sing.
Well, he’d no longer be affecting this woman’s blood, if she could help it.
Uncle Armie’s vile words wriggled their way into her thoughts once more: Most men wouldn’t give the time of day to such a mannish creature. You’re no beauty.
Tears clogged her throat. She’d assumed that Uncle Armie’s insults had just been his nasty reaction to her refusal to do as he wished. But what if he was right?
The voices inside the ballroom grew louder. She’d best go in, if only to keep Sheridan and Grey from suspecting that she’d overheard them earlier. After making sure her fichu was properly tied, she fixed a smile to her face and breezed in. Fortunately, Gwyn didn’t even break in her conversation.
Unfortunately, Sheridan noticed Beatrice and came right up to her. “Are you all right?” he whispered. “You look pale.”
“I’m fine,” she lied. “A bit tired is all.”
He grimaced. “I’m so sorry. Do you wish to postpone the lessons until tomorrow? I don’t mind accompanying you to the dower house.”
The thought of trying to dissemble while alone with Sheridan made her ill. “I don’t need you to chaperone me. I’ve been roaming this estate by myself for years.”