Page 26 of The Beast of Beswick
She rubbed at her eyes and yawned. She’d missed lunch, only munching on a piece of cold toast from breakfast, and her stomach growled. At least she had made some real progress. It was tedious work, but the benefits were worth it. She and Isobel were safe. Astrid didn’t know how long that would last. She dared not go into the village or inquire about comings and goings at the Everleigh estate. Someone might take notice or, worse, recognize her. At best, she and Isobel were in hiding, which meant they could be found and returned to their owner.
It infuriated Astrid that women were valued like property, to be married off and handled like transactions of sale. Much like the pieces she was in the middle of cataloging. The London marriage mart was little more than a glorified auction room, where the best merchandise was displayed and purchased by wealthy, titled gentlemen. And women went like chattel from their fathers to their new proprietors.
Astrid sighed. She’d avoided matrimony for ten years after the scandal, but there was no doubt that marriage offered some degree of protection. Marriage to a man like Beaumont, however, would have a distinct quality of hell.
And marriage to Thane…
Goodness, she had to stop thinking of him by his given name, which she'd learned from his aunt.
With her luck, she’d blurt it out in front of him and never live it down. At the thought of the duke, Astrid felt a muddled sentiment—one part irritation and one part fascination. One could not call him handsome by any stretch of the imagination, but parts of him were beautiful in isolation, like his eyes when they were lit with amusement or his mouth when his mood was indulgent, which wasn’t often. Astrid wondered what those lush contours, so at odds with the pitted rest of him, would feel like against hers.
Warm. Alive. Sinfully sweet.
She shook herself with a short laugh. She was a hopeless cliché, fantasizing about kissing the lord of the manor. She’d do better to start spouting Byron or swooning over Austen. Astrid had been so busy that she hadn’t had a chance to visit the library properly, and Beswick Park’s was truly exceptional, as she’d discovered.
Thinking of her own books that she’d left at her uncle’s house made her feel dejected. She’d been able to pack only one trunk of her favorites—including her worn copies ofParadise Lostand Homer’sOdyssey, several Shakespearean plays gifted to her by her father, poems by Byron and Keats, as well as several instructive essays on science and education by Locke and Rousseau that she could not bear to leave behind.
With a tired sigh, Astrid lounged back in the chair and let her eyes wander the length of the study. It’d been a disappointment that the glass-covered bookcases had housed only antiques and not books. But perhaps that was for the best—she did not need any distractions…or any reason for the duke to assume she was not up to the task.
Astrid had stopped herself from exploring further when Fletcher had first shown her to the tiny study, only to discover that it adjoined the duke’s private chambers, where she’d seen the present duke naked.
Damnation.She’d sworn to stop using those two words together. Duke and naked. Naked duke.
Naked duke naked duke naked duke.
Good God, she was so tired that even her brain had mutinied to the point of stupidity.
Astrid rubbed her eyes and chuckled beneath her breath. Shoving back from the chair, she rose, her limbs protesting at the movement. She rubbed her stiff shoulders and winced as her stomach let out what sounded like a roar. A break and a meal might be in order. She would wander down to the kitchens and see if Cook had saved any leftovers from tea.
It didn’t take long after meandering aimlessly down several identical, narrow wood-paneled corridors with thick carpets for Astrid to realize that she was lost.Again. The place was a dratted maze, and as usual, there wasn’t a maid or footman in sight to help. She paused and peered down yet another hallway before retracing her steps to a wide staircase that looked familiar.
Just as she was about to cry aloud for help—surely there was a footman prowling about somewhere—the sound of low voices reached her ears, and she made her way toward them with relief. As she got nearer, however, she recognized the voices. One was Fletcher’s and the other was Beswick’s, and they were coming from a nearby room.
For no reason at all, Astrid’s pulse started to leap madly in her veins. She had no idea why the Duke of Beswick affected her so. He wasjusta man. No, not just a man…a churlish, inflexible, terrifying beast of a man who terrorized his servants and scared the living daylights out of everyone around him.
She should not befascinatedby him. It wasn’t fascination, she decided in the same breath. He was like a splinter in her thumb. More like an aggravation.
As she neared the study, her footfalls cushioned by the thick pile of the carpets, Astrid made to announce herself, only to freeze as she heard her own name on the duke’s lips.
“Come now, Fletcher. Lady Astrid is no damsel in distress.”
Hesitating for a few rapid heartbeats, she vacillated between wanting to eavesdrop and doing the proper thing and declaring her presence. But in the end, curiosity—and irritation at his condescending tone—won out over propriety.
She inched closer, the duke’s voice filtering out clearly.
“She was affianced to a snake of a man, for God’s sake.”
His snort was derisive, the sound accompanying his heated words like a dagger to Astrid’s ribs. Oh no, heknew. She pressed a fist to her lips. For some reason, it sounded like he was more upset aboutherengagement, rather than the gossip or his father’s edict about Everleigh unsuitability. Then again, everything she did seemed to vex him.
“A decade ago,” she heard Fletcher reply. “Admit it: You’re afraid because you’re drawn to her, and now you’ve found a stupid reason to thwart it.”
Astrid held her breath, her heart taking on an erratic pitch.
“Attracted to that shrew? Hardly. She’s more of a beast than I am.”
“Your response to her would say differently,” Fletcher replied snidely.
The duke snorted. “What are you going on about? She’s vexing and irritating and too much of an insufferable know-it-all. I respond to her like I do everyone else.”
