Page 25 of The Beast of Beswick
He inhaled and crumpled the sheets of paper in one shaking fist before spearing an accusing glower at Fletcher. “Did you know who she was when she came here that first day? That she had been engaged to Cain?”
The valet had the grace to look guilty. “Yes, Duke. Though in my defense, it was not immediately. It was only after she left that I recalled the name Everleigh.”
He scowled. “And you did not think to inform me then?”
“It was a short betrothal.” Fletcher shook his head. “Barely a month because of the scandal. Your father took it personally. Cain was a part of Lord Leopold’s set, as you know.”
Thane was aware. His father was the sole reason Edmund Cain had secured a position in Thane’s regiment, as a favor to his friend, the Earl of Beaumont. The old man hadn’t batted an eye to send his nephew off to war, despite Cain being his heir presumptive, when most peers kept their successors close. Perhaps the earl had hoped for a different outcome.
“Explain,” Thane demanded of Fletcher, curious despite himself. Not that he would have cared about his father’stonmachinations while trying to do Wellington’s bidding and not getting himself killed in the process. He hated the intrigues of the aristocracy.
But this was Astrid…
Fletcher hesitated, his expression pained. “Cain cried off, declaring she’d had lovers.”
Acid churned in his stomach. He knew more than anyone what a slimy bastard Edmund Cain was. “Was there any proof?”
The valet shrugged. “Even if there wasn’t, you know how gossip is, and you know as well as I do that His Grace, God rest his soul, did not love scandal. Given his friendship with the earl at the time, he was the most vocal in denouncing her and her family. Keeping up appearances was his only goal.”
Oh, Thane understood that far too well. It was the reason he’d taken the captain’s commission and sought his freedom from beneath his father’s thumb. Leopold had been the golden son, groomed within an inch of his life to be the perfect heir. But every step Thane had taken had been to provoke his father and to flaunt his disdain for the Harte family name.
But as it turned out, fate had a twisted sense of humor, since he was now duke. The very life he’d deplored had become his responsibility. Thane was now accountable for the dukedom and for passing the title and the entailed lands to his descendants. Hisheirs.
For some reason, Thane thought of Astrid’s delicate, beautiful hands. Those pristine fingers sweeping down the length of his lacerated flesh with desire, not disgust. His chest seized, and other parts of him responded more insistently. Even if she had been with others—includingCain—he still wanted her. He almost hated himself for it.
Thane sighed and glared at the folio.
“Where is Lady Astrid at present?” he asked.
“In your father’s private study, Your Grace,” Fletcher replied. “Off the ducal apartments.”
Four years of being duke, and Thane didn’t recall that the ducal apartments ever housed a study. Then again, he only slept in the bedchamber and bathed in the bathing chamber. The rest of it remained untouched. The staff did an efficient job of cleaning, but Thane had little interest in entering any of those rooms. They served only to remind him of who he was…and how sorely he was unfit for the position of duke.
Fletcher hesitated. “You won’t cause a scene, will you? Regardless of her family name or ancient gossip, she’s doing a fine job cataloging His Grace’s antiques.” He paused again, swiping at an imaginary speck of dust on the desk. “And it’s been a pleasure having her and Lady Isobel at Beswick Park.”
“Surely you know me better than that, Fletcher?” Thane drawled, leaning back in his chair.
“That’s just it. I do. You’ll chase her away, and then where will you be?”
Thane fought his irritation at the valet’s complete lack of respect. He settled for staring Fletcher down with a protracted, honed look. It was one that made hardened generals quail on the battlefield, but the man did not cower or scurry away.
“If you mean to intimidate me, you’re wasting your time,” Fletcher said.
“I pay you to be intimidated.”
His valet arched a brow. “Very well, then. Pretend I’m quaking in my boots if it suits you.”
Thane huffed a disbelieving laugh and shook his head. Since when had Fletcher gotten so mouthy? Devil take it, Astrid’s rebelliousness and defiance were catching. Soon it would infect his entire household…if it hadn’t already.
He sighed and scanned the rest of the report that Fletcher had prepared. Her thirst for knowledge hadn’t been a fabrication. Her father had indulged her with a complete education, rivaling the ones he’d had at Eton and Oxford. She’d had tutors in mathematics, science, history, languages, and anthropological studies. And she was a voracious reader.
She was indeed five and twenty. Her birth date was in four months…the day when she would legally come into her portion. The date when she would no longer need his help. Not that he’d offered it in the first place. Somehow, she’d wormed her way into his household and into his thoughts. Though now, he didn’t know what to think.
Especially about her engagement to a man like Edmund Cain.
…
In the narrow but elegant study, Astrid blew a stray curl out of her eyes and squinted at the neatly scripted sheets of foolscap. Her fingers were covered in ink spots, and she was sure she’d managed to spill ink on her dress as well. She’d filled pages and pages of painstakingly written notes, but luckily, the former duke had been meticulous in his own transcripts. She’d found several bound journals in the desk containing dated records of sale, which had been invaluable in her efforts of confirming the worth and age of the pieces.
