Page 4 of The Duke and the Runaway Bride

Beatrice did not think of marriage or her future with the man, but the time in between—the night of their wedding, when he would take her to his bedchamber and have his way with her. She wondered how quickly they could arrange the wedding.

When he locked eyes with her and smiled, her knees weakened so much that she almost melted.

“Beatrice, it is my pleasure to introduce you to Lord Mutton,” Phineas said.

The smile on her face dropped as quickly as the man before her. Her eyes followed him as he strode off elsewhere, and when she looked back, she had trouble maintaining her composure.

Lord Mutton stood before her.

He looked to be in his late fifties, though the way he moved suggested he was much older. He wore a suit that hung loose on his frame, suggesting weight loss in the previous months. His frame was wiry and slightly hunched, and his eyes were hooded and dull, almost closed, so she could not discern the color. The Baron’s black hair was thinning and had been combed back, likely to cover his appearing baldness.

Beatrice looked in the direction that the handsome gentleman had gone, but he had disappeared. She stood wistfully for a moment, as if he might return and replace Lord Mutton.

“Beatrice!” her father hissed. “Do not be so rude!”

Beatrice looked back at Lord Mutton, who could barely muster a smile. She thought about running, but that was not an option anymore—both because of her father and the awfulRunaway Bridenickname.

No, there was no running from her future. She had decided to do this to overcome her guilt. However, she did not expect horrible disappointment to replace it.

She had made her bed, and now it was time to lie in it.

ChapterTwo

A Compromising Situation

Beatrice took a deep breath, plastering a polite smile on her face, and stepped forward to curtsy before the Baron.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, My Lord,” Beatrice said as she curtsied again.

“It’s a pleasure for me, too,” the Baron replied. “Come here and let me take a look at you.”

Beatrice looked back to her father, and he raised his eyebrows just a little, silently ordering her to do as the Baron asked. She stepped toward the Baron, noticing him licking his lips—he did not look at her lustfully; his lips were dry and needed some lubrication.

He took her by the chin and moved her head side to side, as if checking a pedigree horse, then nodded.

Would he have rejected me if I were not up to his liking?

Beatrice could only hope. It didn’t matter now—the Baron hadtaken possessionof his prized filly, and it would soon become official. She reminded herself of what was at stake. The Baron was a lot older than she had expected, and he was not handsome by any means, but she had known of other marriages where the husband and wife barely spent time together, so age and looks did not matter entirely. This was for her father—she could look past the superficial and do right by him.

It might be unpleasant to start a family, but she would have children and love them. Her mother and father had an arranged marriage, so why not her?

The Baron went to Phineas and clapped him on the shoulder, muttering something to him. Beatrice looked across the room to where they had left her mother, only to spot the horrified look on Letitia’s face. Her expression made it obvious that she had not met the Baron before, which weakened Beatrice’s resolve.

“Beatrice, now that you have been introduced to Lord Mutton, he would like to spend some time with you. There might not be another opportunity for the two of you to talk before the wedding.”

“When is the wedding?” Beatrice blurted out.

“We can worry about that later,” her father said. “Lord Mutton wishes for a speedy resolution to this courtship.”

Beatrice nodded, trying not to show her true feelings.

“Talk with him, Beatrice, and listen to what he has to say. This will be a favorable match,” Phineas urged.

Beatrice nodded again, wishing she could break down in tears. She looked at her father and could not be sure if she was projecting her feelings or if his resolve was breaking too. For a moment, she thought he might call the entire thing off. Instead, he took her hand and squeezed it, nodded, and left to rejoin Letitia.

Beatrice took a few seconds—her freedom was measured in seconds instead of minutes now. She schooled her features into her most pleasant expression and turned to face the Baron. When she looked at him from certain angles, he did not look all that old.

He licked his lips again, a habit of his that she would have to get used to. Moments ago, she had mistaken the fine gentleman for the Baron when he entered, and her thoughts quickly went back to her wedding night and the kiss that would come after the ceremony. She did not want to think about it, but her treacherous mind kept wondering whether Lord Mutton’s lips would feel dry when they kissed.

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