Page 8 of The Duke's Vice

Beatrice inwardly cringed. She was sick of hearing about her sister’s letter. Beatrice made a mental note to find a way to incapacitate her sister’s writing hand so she could never write another letter.

She was fine not being the season’s diamond, she preferred it even. The less attention she got the better her chance of becoming a spinster became. The further she got in her season the more she realized she was not only capable of living on her own, but craved it.

“Come, sit down.” Charlotte urged. “You need to eat to build up your energy. I foresee a lot of dancing in your future.” Hermother said with a wink as she pushed Beatrice down into a chair. “I heard Lord Devlin’s son will be in attendance, he always seemed like a nice young man. Oh, and Lord Dancary, he’s available, which is odd. He is so well liked, I wonder why he hasn’t settled with anyone yet.”

Beatrice speared a strawberry and ate it. “Perhaps he isn’t looking for a wife.”

Charlotte’s shrill laugh startled Beatrice. “Oh, Beatrice. You say the most nonsensical things some times.”

Beatrice scrunched her nose. “It’s not unheard of for people to want to live out their lives without a spouse. Some may even prefer it.”

Beatrice’s comment was met with a blank stare. Her mother sat opposite of her with a curious look on her face.

Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “Beatrice. I can never tell when you’re joking or not.”

Beatrice swallowed another strawberry. “I’m not joking, Mama.”

She watched as the wheels in her mother’s head began to turn. “Well, men are a different breed. They can live out their lives alone, but they shouldn’t. Regardless, us women do better as wives.” She picked up her tea and took a sip, most definitely thinking that was the end of that conversation.

“Mama. It’s not just men who can have the opportunity to live their lives alone. There are women who do it as well. Women can live out their lives alone and be quite happy and well off.”

Charlotte sputtered over her tea. “Beatrice!” She huffed. “I knew it.” She pointed her tea spoon across the table at Beatrice. “I told your sister you and her read too much! Thankfully for Sarah her tastes worked in her favor. But you, you read about adventures that only exist in books for fancy.”

Beatrice felt her cheeks heat. This was not a new argument with her mother. Unfortunately, it has become almost a daily conversation since this season started.

“I have always said I should take those books from you and I’m starting to think I should finally do it.” Charlotte sat back in her chair, distraught.

Beatrice rolled a blueberry around her plate. “Mama. You wouldn’t do that. I think deep down you are proud of the fact that your daughters are well versed in all kinds of literature.”

Charlotte grimaced. “Only when I forget it interferes with my goals for my daughters.”

Beatrice leaned towards her mother. “Exactly, Mama. Your goals.”

Her mother sat up, tilting her ear to her daughter. “My goals are your goals, love. Your father and I made sure you and yoursisters had the best schooling we could afford to ensure you had the best chance at a fruitful and happy life. In our society that means married to an honorable man. It worked for your sisters.”

“I’m not my sisters, Mama.” Beatrice took another deep breath. She always tiptoed around not wanting to be married, but she never came out and told her mother of her plans. It was time she finally told Charlotte.

“I want more than that. I want more than to be a wife. I would… I would rather live alone.” Beatrice dropped her eyes.

You would have thought Beatrice had dropped dead in front of her mother’s eyes. Charlotte dropped her tea cup with a loud gasp that had Ms. Adams running to her side.

Charlotte grasped her chest and heaved in air.

“Your Grace!” Ms. Adams yelled.

Charlotte put her arms up in a dramatic fashion, holding off the housekeeper. “I’m fine, Ms. Adams. Beatrice’s joke fell flat and startled me.“

“I’ll clean this up right away, Your Grace.” Ms. Adams started picking up the broken fragments of the cup.

“I’m not joking, Mama.” Beatrice’s voice barely made it over the din of collecting the broken porcelain.

Ms. Adams’s eyes bounced from Beatrice’s to Charlotte’s. “I’ll bring you another cup, Your Grace.” The housekeeper then turned on a dime to hurry out of the room. Beatrice sighed. Ms. Adams was young for a housekeeper and no doubt going to spread the word that Beatrice was dead set on ruining her life.

“Explain.” Charlotte’s voice, usually so melodic and whimsical, was cold.

Beatrice swallowed and licked her suddenly dry lips.

“I am not like my sisters. They are happy being wed, I just don’t see that for myself.”

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