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‘You don’t sound happy about it.’
She smiled and it did not reach her eyes. ‘What I want is impossible, Beatrice.’
Beatrice’s heart crunched slightly. On behalf of her friend. If there was one thing that she knew about Eleanor it was that... Well, she knew that Eleanor was in love with her brother. It had been clear when Hugh had become engaged to Penny last year.
Oh, Eleanor had been lovely to Penny. And she had said nothing. But the devastation was evident behind her eyes.
Beatrice had never felt it was at all appropriate to mention it. For no matter how true her feelings were, no matter how real, they were doomed. Hugh would no more return her affections than... Well he would not. For many reasons. Propriety, the title... He would have in mind a very particular sort of woman to be his Duchess. She knew that about her brother. He had very particular ideas. And they would not include Eleanor or her feelings.
But then, her brother’s plans never did. They did not take into account the feelings of others, only what he assumed to be right. When his former fiancée, Penny, had explained to Beatrice the truth of the situation—that she had not had an affair with a Scottish soldier, but that her father had sold her to him to pay off his debts—Beatrice had believed her. Whether or not her brother had... It hadn’t mattered. The damage had been done. And there was nothing that could have been done about her marriage. In the end, Penny had agreed to marry the Scot and go with him back to the Highlands. But the truth didn’t matter. Not to Hugh, whose opinion of Penny had been altered forever.
Once Hugh determined someone had fallen short, they could never again be held in the same esteem they had been before.
That could be her after tonight.
Yes. It could be.
But she had two options. She could either go along with what her brother wanted for the rest of her life, or she could attempt to claim something for herself.
And so she had decided on this endeavour, dangerous though it was.
She knew that the reputation of a woman was a perilous thing. And that becoming ruined was actually much easier than remaining beyond reproach.
‘Shall we go downstairs?’
‘Yes,’ Beatrice said. ‘Let’s.’
It was just time for guests to begin arriving. Beatrice wanted to make sure that she was tucked away in an advantageous corner of the ballroom so that she could watch for the arrival of James. And from there, she would decide the best course of action. Because she would have to figure out exactly where she had to be seen with James. And what exactly they needed to be doing.
She was not entirely certain how tonight would unfold, and she needed to...think. Needed to get a sense for what was happening.
She took a sharp breath and steeled herself, as she and Eleanor walked down the stairs. Their feet didn’t make a sound on the rich, burgundy carpet that covered the stairway. Marble from Italy gleamed bright on the floor of the entry, reflecting the lights of the elegant chandelier that hung above. Intricate scrollwork carved into the crown mouldings.
But it paled in comparison to the opulent ballroom. The marble there was gilded at the seams, frescoes painted on the walls and the ceilings of angels and demons locked in heavenly battle.
They moved from the entry into the ballroom, and Beatrice immediately set upon the punchbowl. She was quite pleased to see that there were already refreshments placed out, and that there were a few people in attendance. Her brother would arrive on time. Not a moment sooner or later. What was fashionable did not matter to him. It was a matter of being a man of his word.
When the ball truly did start, Beatrice was relegated to the back by her own sense of propriety. She was a guest without truly being a guest. In many ways it was actually shocking that Hugh allowed her to come downstairs and attend in any measure at all. He could have just as easily kept her shut up in her room. But he did not.
It was quite the break with tradition. By Hugh’s standards.
James was not here yet, but she knew that he would be. And soon. Her brother arrived, made greetings to his guests. And eventually made his way to the back of the room.
‘How are you finding this evening?’ Hugh asked.
‘Lovely. As ever,’ she said, fighting the urge to twist her hands with nervousness. He would ask what was wrong if she displayed a hint of nerves. He was far too perceptive. It was not part of his charm.
His eyes darted behind her. ‘Where’s Eleanor?’
‘I do believe that she was asked to dance,’ Beatrice said.
‘Was she indeed?’
‘Yes.’
Her brother’s gaze was sharp.
And she could see that his concerns would be transferred elsewhere. She did wonder sometimes, if he believed so strongly in the force of his own will that he did not worry about her defying him, or if he simply did not believe her to be a woman. If he did not believe that anyone would ever see her that way. It was entirely possible that he believed he did not have to guard her against suitors because he did not believe that she was capable of having any.
