Page 78 of The Beast of Beswick
He’d castrate himself before she came to any hurt at his hands.
Chapter Twenty-one
Thane had hoped his epiphany of folly would disappear—that what he started feeling for Astrid had been some emotional consequence of lust—but it only became more fully realized the more time he spent with her. Watching the blushing smile on her lips at the breakfast table the next morning made him feel like a conquering king. Though he usually slept in the nude when he was alone, he’d risen early to don a never-used silk nightshirt and tailored loose trousers before climbing back into bed. He hadn’t wanted to be caught unawares in the bright light of day.
Feeling his scars at night and seeing them in daylight were two different things.
Given how he felt about them, it terrified him to think of what her reaction would be. His back and legs were much worse than his face. The bayonets had done the most damage to his back, and several of the deeper gouges had gone septic. It’d been a miracle that he’d even survived the weeks of unrelenting fever and madness, followed by excruciating cautery, and what was left of his body was proof of the horror he’d endured. The only answer would be to never let his wife see him.
Which meant that he could not continue to tempt fate.
Not without severe risk.
“Today looks like it will be raining again…a pity, as I’d hoped to go shopping for a new spencer,” his aunt declared, daintily lathering a piece of buttered toast with jam, her eyes cutting between them. “What are your plans?”
Thane cleared his throat. “I am meeting with Sir Thornton as well as the steward from my northern estates.”
“Oh yes,” she said, frowning. “I also heard from Culbert that you received some unwelcome news.”
Astrid looked up, the instant inquiry in her eyes. Thane hadn’t had a chance to speak to her about the missive that had been delivered that morning with his usual correspondence. “Beaumont has formally declared his intention to court Isobel.”
“What does that mean?” Astrid asked.
“That an offer is forthcoming, one that I will be tasked to consider.”
“He is a scapegrace,” Aunt Mabel said. “He’s a poor candidate indeed, not for someone as lovely as that child. I hope you plan to reject the bounder.”
“Yes,” he and Astrid replied at the same time.
He sent her a small smile, one he knew was not missed by his eagle-eyed aunt. “I fear that it won’t discourage him, however. The Everleighs have some underhanded agreement with the man, and the earl has somehow curried the favor of the Prince Regent to attempt to overturn the terms of Astrid’s father’s will.”
“With Prinny?” Mabel asked. “And what kind of agreement?”
“They keep Isobel’s portion,” Astrid said. “The earl isn’t lacking in fortune. He only wants her. It’s nothing more than a sale, a transaction.”
Thane nodded. “And Beaumont’s uncle, the previous earl, was favored at court. I can only assume he hopes to use his late uncle’s reputation to shore up his own.”
The duchess shook her head. “Appalling. Though such tactics seem extreme even for Beaumont.”
“I suspect it’s related to his feelings about Astrid,” Thane said, feeling the rage burn inside him. “She humiliated him, and he’s nurtured that feeling for years. Of course, it’s no small consolation that Isobel is as beautiful as her sister.”
His wife blushed, though a fierce expression remained on her face. “He’s a snake.”
“That we can agree on, dear,” Mabel said. “Though Beaumont is not to be underestimated. We need a strategy to find Isobel another acceptable suitor. Are there any she might deem an appropriate match? We do want her to be happy, after all.”
Astrid drummed her fingers on the table. “Agatha writes that she will be at the opera four days hence. Perhaps we can ask her then.”
“Then I suggest we marshal our forces.” The duchess turned to him. “Beswick, I assume your box is still available?”
Thane nodded. He never used any of his various boxes but retained them nonetheless. It wouldn’t do for the Duke of Beswick not to have one, even if he abhorred the society that had shunned him. “I will be there as well.”
Two gazes converged on him with shock.
“Are you feeling well, Beswick?” his aunt asked.
“Quite,” he responded dryly. “You needn’t look so aghast at the prospect. I have been to an opera or two, and my box is quite secluded.”
“I was certainly not aghast,” she said with an equally dry look in his direction. “Perhaps I will situate my efforts elsewhere. I shall ask Lady Featheringstoke to accompany her, since her box is situated besides the Earl of Beaumont’s where I suspect our little diamond and your unfortunate relatives will be.” Her mouth curled into a delighted smirk as she addressed Astrid. “There, I shall make an absolute cake of myself and give you the chance to speak with your sister.”
