A Scandalous Bargain (The Pretenders #2) - Darcy Burke Page 0,78

He’d sent her a note yesterday saying how much he’d enjoyed the previous night and asking if she would be at the picnic today. He said he planned to be there.

“I’m sorry Selina couldn’t join us,” Jane said. “But I do understand how it feels to be recently wed.” She sent a rather wistful gaze toward her husband.

Beatrix followed her line of sight and saw the viscount was returning her look, and even from this distance, Beatrix could feel the heat between them. It reminded her of how she felt whenever she looked at Tom. Or touched him. Or was with him.

She searched for him again but still didn’t see him.

“Are you watching for someone?” Phoebe asked.

Beatrix shrugged. “Not really. Just taking stock of who’s here.”

Jane stepped closer to Beatrix’s side. “Are there any gentlemen who’ve caught your fancy?”

“No one in particular.” That was as great a lie as she’d ever told, but of course her relationship, or whatever it was, with Tom was a secret. She wondered if it would remain that way. As much as she’d loved the other night, she didn’t think it should happen again. She wouldn’t be his mistress, no matter how she felt about him.

And how was that?

She wasn’t certain, but she suspected she was in love with him. She’d nearly asked Selina, but she wasn’t ready to say it out loud. What if she was alone in her feelings? She wasn’t sure she could face another rejection after her father.

“Oh, there are the Spitfires,” Phoebe said with a grin. She linked her arm with Jane, who then linked her arm with Beatrix, and they made their way to where four ladies were gathered.

Their small circle opened to welcome the newcomers. Beatrix knew all of them from their meetings. The oldest was Lady Satterfield, a thoroughly wonderful countess who in many ways was the mother of their group. Her daughter-in-law, the Duchess of Kendal, was also present, as were two of her close friends, the Duchess of Clare and the Countess of Sutton.

“Good afternoon,” Lady Satterfield said. “Miss Whitford, how is your lovely sister?”

“Quite well, thank you. She would have loved to come today and looks forward to reentering the social whirl after she’s acclimated to marriage.” In truth, Selina wasn’t sure she would ever return to attending the number of events they had in pursuit of establishing Beatrix in Society. She was content to simply be a wife and a member of the Spitfire Society.

Beatrix wasn’t sure she wanted to continue with all this either. Today was different—she had the chance to see Tom. But overall, what was the point now that her father had rejected her? Was she hoping to make a marriage?

Only if it’s with Tom.

She pushed the thought away. That wasn’t an option right now, and it might never be.

She noticed a gentleman walking straight toward her. Not Tom, unfortunately, but someone she didn’t know.

Lady Satterfield, however, knew him. She smiled as he approached. “Good afternoon, Lord Sandon. How pleasant to see you. Did you just return to London?”

“In fact, I did. My family’s estate in Ireland is lovely, but it does not compare to the land of my birth.” He laughed lightly, his gaze drifting to Beatrix.

“Allow me to present Miss Whitford,” Lady Satterfield said, moving closer to Beatrix. Tall, with mostly dark hair that was just showing signs of silver at the temples, the countess was regally beautiful with a kindness that matched the warmth in her dove-gray eyes. “Her sister very recently married Mr. Harry Sheffield.”

“North’s brother?” Sandon asked. “How pleasant.”

Lady Satterfield gestured toward Sandon. “Allow me to present the Viscount Sandon.”

There was something vaguely familiar about the viscount, but Beatrix couldn’t determine what. He was attractive, she supposed, about the same height as Tom and close to her in age, probably. His eyes were a mix of blue and green with a bit of a sleepy quality about them that made him look…romantic, she thought might be the best word. He possessed a square chin with a cleft. Also romantic. To some. To her, Tom was the romantic ideal.

She remembered to curtsey. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, my lord.”

“The pleasure is more mine, I assure you.” He took her hand and bowed slightly as she straightened.

“You’re new to London this Season?”

“Yes.”

“Then it is my misfortune to have missed most of it.”

Beatrix would have typically said something witty and flirtatious in return, but at that moment, she saw Tom walking along the path toward one of