Page 80 of The Duke's Vice

It would have been a nice gesture had Graham not been standing behind Amos. As Amos lowered to kiss her hand, Beatrice’s eyes landed on Graham.

Her world tilted and she lost her breath.

His green eyes had gone dark as they narrowed in on her. His posture was that of an animal ready to pounce. Pure rage pumped off of him in waves.

Amos righted himself and must have saw the distress on her face.

“Beatrice? Is everything all right?”

She couldn’t speak, she continued to stare through Amos, directly in the Duke’s direction.

“Come, let’s get you some punch. It’s hot in here. Perhaps you just need a break.”

She tried to lick her dry her lips, but it did no good, her mouth was just as dry. Beatrice let Amos take her to the refreshment table and gratefully accepted the cup of punch.

She drank it until it was all gone.

“My. You must have been thirsty.” Amos said, looking her over, making sure she was stable. “What happened? You just went white.”

Beatrice opened her mouth when a shadow darkened the spot next to her.

“Lady Beatrice.” Graham stated.

Beatrice looked up to him. Her heart was beating so quickly, she couldn’t hear over the thumping in her chest.

“Your Grace, it is nice to see you.”

Graham barely acknowledged Amos.

“I hear your business with Stoleton is going well.” Amos offered his hand which was ignored by the Duke.

Beatrice and Graham stood in silence as they stared at each other. Amos’s eyes bounced between the two of them.

“Why do I feel like I’m interrupting a conversation?” Amos asked eyeing both of them suspiciously.

“What was that?” Graham asked.

Amos lifted his hands. “Nothing, Your Grace.” He took Beatrice by the elbow. “Would you like to get some air, Beatrice?”

Graham bristled at the common use of her name without her title.

“Actually, I was coming over here to ask if Lady Beatrice would like a dance.”

Beatrice’s eyes widened. “You were?”

Graham rocked back on his heels. “Yes.” He finally looked at Amos. “Do you mind Duncary?”

He didn’t wait for a response but grabbed Beatrice by the arm and led her to the dance floor.

Beatrice’s head began to swim. She looked back to Amos who stood there with a peculiar look on his face. She mouthed the words “I’m sorry,” to which he waved her off and rose his glass to her. He toasted her with a smile as Graham turned to her in the middle of the ballroom.

Beatrice swallowed as her eyes drifted up his body. Could this be real? Is she really doing this?

Her heart and mind were at war. Her heart missed being in his presence, while her mind was still reeling from the way he kicked her out of his house.

Her mind won.

Anger over took the hurt as her eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

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