A Scandalous Bargain (The Pretenders #2) - Darcy Burke Page 0,80
charm to spare. She’d enjoyed dancing with him. But she didn’t want to share her picnic blanket with him when Tom was an option.
Except Tom wasn’t an option. For all she knew, he’d already left.
Ripley gestured to the open spot next to Beatrix. “Afternoon, Daventry. Please join us.”
“Thank you.” As soon as the earl was seated, a footman brought a plate and asked if he preferred wine or ale.
“Ale, thank you.” Daventry looked to Beatrix. “I am so pleased to see you here, Miss Whitford. And I am particularly grateful for the chance to enjoy your company for such a long period while we dine.”
Beatrix forced a smile, then took a drink of wine. This was going to be a very long picnic.
Daventry was sitting too close to Beatrix.
Thomas finished his ale and tried not to glower in the direction of Beatrix’s blanket. He sat several blankets away with his cousin, Aquilla, the Countess of Sutton, who’d invited him to join her and her husband. The Duke and Duchess of Clare were also seated on the blanket, as was Aunt Charity, who’d made it a point to seek out her niece and nephew and was delighted they were all seated together.
“Do you know Miss Whitford?” Aquilla asked.
Thomas turned his attention to his cousin. Her mother was Thomas’s mother’s younger sister, and Aunt Charity was the youngest of the three. “We’ve met.”
“I’ve just noticed you keep looking in her direction.”
Bollocks.
Tom said nothing. What could he say? Besides, she hadn’t asked a question.
“We’re both in the Spitfire Society,” Aquilla said, her bright blue eyes shining beneath the rim of her straw bonnet. “I like her and her sister very much. They have so many wonderful ideas about the orphanage we’re founding.”
“You’re founding an orphanage?” Thomas asked.
“How does one gain membership in this Society?” Aunt Charity interjected.
“It’s nothing formal. We keep inviting friends and relatives, so we are growing all the time. If you’d like to attend our next meeting, we’d be delighted to have you come.”
“Oh, I would, thank you. An orphanage is a marvelous endeavor.”
Thomas could imagine that Beatrix, and Selina in particular, might be rather passionate about helping orphans. “Where will this orphanage be located?”
“We haven’t decided yet. There is much to do first.” Aquilla glanced toward the Duchess of Clare. “Ivy and her sister Fanny, the Countess of St. Ives, have been leading an endeavor to found a workhouse that will teach women skills and help them find employment. They are much further along, and the Ladies’ School for Betterment will be opening later this summer. Once that is running, we will focus our full energies on the orphanage.”
“My goodness, I had no idea,” Thomas said, impressed. “You never asked me for a donation.”
Aquilla blushed slightly. “My apologies. If you’d like to donate, we’ll happily take your money.”
“Yes, happily,” Lady Clare said with a grin.
Thomas was glad the conversation had moved from his, apparently obvious, interest in Beatrix. For the remainder of the meal, he worked diligently to keep from looking in her direction.
It was deuced difficult.
Not just because he was eager to speak with her—he’d thought of little but her since the night before last—but because he was aware of Daventry and the man’s proximity to Beatrix. And before that, bloody Sandon had made a point of going over to her. If Thomas didn’t make a claim, he risked losing her to one of them. Or someone else.
As soon as the footman removed his plate and cup, Thomas excused himself. He meandered to the outer rim of the blankets so as not to blatantly walk straight to Beatrix. After lingering for a few minutes, he walked a path that took him close to her blanket. He moved slowly and, certain she saw him, made eye contact. He half smiled, not wanting to draw attention, and just barely inclined his head toward a copse of trees away from the picnic.
As he strode past the blanket toward the trees, he hoped she understood the silent message. Hiding himself away from view, he waited.
Thankfully, it wasn’t even a quarter hour before she found him.
The moment she stepped out of sight from the picnic, Thomas grabbed her by the hand and pulled her fast against him. Her arms wound around his neck just as his lips met hers.
The kiss was ardent, passionate, the perfect expression of everything he was feeling—longing, desire, jealousy, and a thousand other things he wasn’t sure he could name. Beatrix had awakened every emotion inside him, things he’d