Page 91 of His Unwanted Duchess

Beatrice felt a pang, remembering how Emily had sworn that she would only marry for love, and how Daphne had insisted that she would not marryat all.

They had grown up so fast.

“Steady on, you two.” Beatrice laughed, squeezing their arms. “With your sister being such a wealthy woman, there’s no need for you two to rush into matrimony. You’re quite safe, and you can take your time and choose a decent man.”

Emily bit her lip. “I’m not sure thereareany decent men in the world. I think perhaps spinsterhood is for me.”

“Nonsense,” Daphne said crisply. “I’ll marry a rich man for convenience, and you’ll come and live with us. Or better yet, you’ll find a way to make money. How does that sound?”

Emily chuckled at that, shaking her head. “What would I do without you, Daff?”

The two girls playfully bickered with each other, with Beatrice caught in the middle.

They were promenading in the Park at the usual hour, and Beatrice was glad to have something to distract her from thoughts of Stephen. She had replayed the events of the observatory over and over in her head, analyzing them from each angle.

She was fairly sure thatspankingwas not a regular fixture in the marriages of most people. Or perhaps itwasand nobody had bothered to tell her before her wedding.

Either way, she had enjoyed it greatly and was not entirely sure how to feel about this new development. The twins’ chatter allowed her mind to wander, but she was no closer to a solution.

She had not seen Stephen since their encounter in the observatory two days ago.

That night, Beatrice had gone to her room—which she was already thinking of astheirroom—and discovered that his things were gone, moved to a guest room somewhere in the house.

A definite feeling of disappointment had prickled over her skin. She had considered, briefly, forcing Mouse to tell her where Stephen had gone so that she could go to his room and demand answers, ask why he ran hot and cold so very often.

She had not done that, of course, and had instead lain in her too-large bed, thinking.

Sleep had come eventually, but too late, and her eyes prickled and ached with tiredness.

It took her a moment or two to realize that the twins had stopped chattering.

“Those women are staring at us,” Emily said, her voice low.

Beatrice followed their gazes, and her heart sank. A gaggle of four women stood nearby on the edge of the path. She did not recognize them all, but one was certainly Miss Boules, a desperate gossip on her third Season.

Miss Boules was a pretty enough woman, but with her cruel character and unpleasant personality, she had managed to fade her looks away to nothing in the eyes of others. She had all but ignored Beatrice after her marriage and made no bones about declaring to others that a plump bluestocking did not deserve to marry a duke.

They were clutching a scandal sheet between them, poring over it, and Beatrice suddenly understood what was going on.

“You poor thing,” Miss Boules said, smiling in an unfriendly way. “Do you know, I think it would have been better for you to remain a spinster.”

Her friends giggled.

Emily clutched at Beatrice’s arm, and Daphne took a step forward, her finger raised warningly. “You’d better stop,” she threatened, “orelse.”

Miss Boules ignored her, taking a step forward and thrusting the scandal sheet towards her.

“Here. Read it. It’s a sad story, I’m afraid. I do pity you, my dear. Nobody deserves this.”

“Perhaps you should inform your gleeful expression of that,” Daphne snapped. “Go away.”

Beatrice scanned the sheet. It was more or less what she had expected. Apparently, Stephen had not come home last night on account of spending time with Cornelia Thompson. There was an account of the pair of them, arm in arm and giggling together, departing from a party thrown by a particularlyfastlady. There were no sketches, only oneverydetailed witness account.

A lump formed in Beatrice’s throat.

Am I just a pastime to him? A conquest? A way to entertain himself when Miss Thompson is not there?

It had meant nothing, then, either their intimacy in the carriage or their time in the observatory.

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