words the moment her cousin frowned. “Of course,” he said stiffly. “Forgive me for presuming.”
Now she felt awful. In truth, Sheridan had said nothing to alarm her. It was Grey who suspected her of knowing more than she was letting on.
She didn’t, but not for want of trying to find out. She’d searched the spot where Uncle Armie had died without finding anything to implicate Joshua. She’d parsed every word her brother said, but couldn’t tell if he knew of Uncle Armie’s obnoxious overtures to her.
She’d even considered asking Joshua point-blank if he’d had anything to do with Uncle Armie’s death. But even if he had been involved, he would never tell her. He wouldn’t want to put that burden on her. So he’d either lie or not answer. And if he hadn’t killed Uncle Armie, then Joshua would be wounded beyond repair to hear that she thought so ill of him.
That kept her quiet. He’d suffered so much already that she hated herself for even considering he might be guilty.
In any case, none of this mess was Sheridan’s fault. “I’m sorry, Sheridan. I’m a bit cross, that’s all.” Fumbling for a plausible reason, she added, “I fear I’ll never be as accomplished a debutante as your mother and sister wish me to be.”
“Nonsense. It merely takes practice. You can’t go out into society for months, anyway. So you have plenty of time.”
“I keep telling her that.” Grey approached to stand on her other side. “But she still worries.”
Beatrice felt trapped between the two brothers, neither of whom she could trust anymore. “I merely don’t want to disappoint my benefactors, Your Grace,” she said in a cool voice, trying to hide how much Grey’s presence agitated her.
Grey flashed her an exasperated look that she ignored.
The next few hours were taken up with learning the cotillion and quadrille . . . and choking down her anger at Grey. Fortunately, the dancing lessons finally ended for the day when dinner was announced. Although Aunt Lydia asked her to join them, Beatrice got out of it by protesting she didn’t want to leave her brother to dine alone. That enabled her to flee before it got dark, so that neither of the men felt obliged to accompany her.
For once, when she got home to find Joshua gone, she was relieved because it meant she didn’t have to keep pretending another minute. Somehow she must get through the next few weeks—or however long Grey was here—without giving anything away. If she could keep from rousing his suspicions, all would be well.
Then she’d just have to pray she never saw his face again.
Chapter Fourteen
To Beatrice’s vast relief, the next two days fell into a comfortable pattern—dancing at the hall during the day and dining at the dower house with her brother at night. Since Sheridan was too busy to help instruct them, they could dance no more cotillions and quadrilles. Instead, Grey took turns partnering her or Gwyn as his mother played a succession of tunes for jigs, reels, and other country dances. Since Beatrice knew those figures, she ended up being the one to teach Gwyn.
It became clear that Grey, while capable of performing any dance, wasn’t fond of the entertainment. It required going into society, and, as he repeatedly stated, he’d rather “live out his days as a hermit than endure an hour with those self-important dullards.” Sometimes he sounded exactly like her brother. How odd was that?
At least she was evading his questions. She made sure they were never alone, even when he tried to maneuver it otherwise. After dealing with Uncle Armie, she was good at that. And when they danced, she kept up a steady stream of queries about London society and the behavior expected of her.
That was how she learned how intensely Grey disliked the ton. His feelings emerged in snide asides about the rules and cutting remarks about the people. Beatrice might not trust him with her own secrets, but he did always seem to speak the truth about society. So by the end of their third day of lessons, she’d begun to wonder if the glittering mass of accomplished lords and ladies she feared meeting in London might not prove to be merely a larger group of the people she’d already been dealing with in Sanforth, with the same petty vanities, prejudices, and propensity to gossip. If so, then she might manage this debut nonsense perfectly well after all.
On Sunday, their fourth day, there were no lessons