Page 92 of The Beast of Beswick
His brows shot to his hairline, his face going dark. “How dare you?”
She raised her voice, head high. “I dare because of what you did. You coveted a woman who did not want you, and when she did not instantly fall at your feet, you smeared her reputation with lies and tried to destroy her in the eyes of society. But you know what, you lousy excuse for a man? I didn’t let you destroy me. Instead, I found someone who is proud and honorable, who values me for me, who doesn’t treat me like athing.”
“That disgusting beast?” Beaumont scoffed.
“He’s more of a man than you could ever hope to be,” she said. “I’m proud to be his wife, and I’d rather be married to a beast like him than a swine like you.” The earl’s eyes narrowed with anger, but Astrid wasn’t finished. “Sooner or later, Beaumont, you’ll try to ruin the wrong woman, and you’ll lose everything. But it won’t be me, and it won’t be my sister. So if you have nothing more to say for your sorry self, I’d advise you to get thefuckout of my way!”
“How dare you address me that way, you…you insolent…” he sputtered.
“Duchess,” she said. “The word you’re looking for isduchess.”
Astrid suddenly became aware of the thunderous silence. The music had petered out, and almost every eye was trained on them. She could have heard a pin drop in the ballroom, and then suddenly the sound of slow, measured clapping broke through. Lady Hammerton looked positively beside herself with glee.
“Well said, Lady Beswick. I’ll deal with this ball-crashing miscreant. Now, go save that fool husband of yours.”
Despite a few disapproving glances, there were quite a few gratified ones, including her sister and Aunt Mabel, as well as a number of other ladies who were enjoying Beaumont’s humiliation with undisguised relish. They might live in a man’s world, but she had a voice, and she wasn’t going to be afraid to use it. Not anymore. Astrid grinned, savoring the moment, but only for a second.
After all, she had a duke to rescue.
Chapter Twenty-five
Galloping through the roads of North Stifford, Thane breathed in the fresh country air. Soon, at the very least within two hours, he would be in London. It wasn’t too late, and with any luck, he would catch Prinny before he was drowning at the bottom of his cups. It would be hit or miss whether the Regent would already be drunk, given his proclivities, but at least Thane had it on good authority that he was currently in residence at Carlton House.
He’d chosen to ride instead of taking a carriage because it would be quicker. And he needed the grueling pace. Everything hurt. His head, his body, his heart. He wanted to howl like a wounded animal. He wanted to tear at his cursed face, flay his ruined skin, and, most of all, weep for what he’d done. He’d broken Astrid’s heart. His beautiful, courageous, clever girl. Oh Christ, the look on her face…it had nearly demolished him. But he had to let her go.
He had to set her free.
Creatures of her beauty didn’t deserve to live hidden away. And that was what she would have been, married to him—a caged bride. She deserved so much more than he could give her. Even with a hat, the whispers and glances had been almost impossible to endure, and he’d been hard-pressed not to snarl and growl like the creature he was. But he’d done it, because it was what she had wanted. She’d needed for him to be there, to help keep Isobel safe. People had stared, and he had let them. They’d simpered and whispered, and he’d held his tongue, kept his composure. Been a gentleman.
But once he’d seen Isobel in Roth’s arms, seen the look of adoration on her face, he’d understood just how much he would be cheating Astrid of. She should be dancing in ballrooms with pride, not hiding away from the world in a dark abbey because of him, not enduring the whispers of theton. She’d had enough of hurtful gossip to last her a lifetime. Because no matter how much he pretended, he wasn’t a gentleman. He’d never be one.
Cutting her loose had been the only way.
It was the best for everyone.
His head was still pounding when he arrived in St. James on the south side of Pall Mall and into the courtyard of the prince’s residence. From the lights and the revelry spilling down the steps, the Regent was entertaining.Wonderful. Thane sucked in a breath. He was not in the mood to socialize. He wanted only to get this over with so he could ride back to Beswick Park and sequester himself in solitude.
With a grunt, Thane dismounted and threw the reins of his mount to the waiting groom under the porte cochere. “I’m the Duke of Beswick. I won’t be long. Cool him down.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Thane strode through the crowded first hall, knowing he’d likely find Prinny in one of the many drawing rooms or in the great hall or in the gardens. The man wasn’t particular about his entertainments. As he strode through the palace, the Greco-Roman architecture with its marbled floor, carved columns, and lush draperies was stunning, but he could hardly appreciate any of it. A few people gathered in small groups, revelers who were strolling past him to head outside to enjoy the warm evening air. Following them, he ignored the stares and the whispers without comment, too focused on finding the Regent.
He was so intent on getting to his destination that he did not immediately notice the group of people he’d nearly crashed into or its royal leader until a heavy hand clapped his back.
“Good Lord, Beswick, didn’t think I would see you here.”
“Your Highness,” he said, recognizing the rounded bulk of the Prince Regent surrounded by his usual fawning entourage. Thane bowed. “I had urgent business that saw me here.”
“Must have been important, then, for you to leave the comforts of Beswick Park. I haven’t seen you in an age. Too good for Carlton House these days, are you?”
The censure in his tone was just enough to rub Thane the wrong way. He didn’t want to be rude, but he was already at the end of his rope. While he could handle the Regent most days, he was not in the mood to deal with his self-indulgent, emotional hysterics of why he hadn’t attended one of his extravagant, hedonistic parties. He glanced around at the flamboyant crowd with a measure of distaste—thiswas exactly the reason.
“Apologies, Prinny. I won’t take up much of your time.”
“You’re staying, aren’t you?” he demanded. “I’ve only just made my appearance. You must stay. My shindigs are marvelous.”
“Unfortunately, I must be getting back to Beswick Park,” he said. “Though, since I’ve found you, I did have a small matter to discuss, if it pleases you.”
