Page 38 of The Beast of Beswick
He gave no indication of the rage ballooning inside him. “Careful, Beaumont. That’s my fiancée you’re speaking of, so watch your tongue.”
“Then, you’re more of a fool than I gave you credit for.” Beaumont’s eyes shone with malice, lips folding into a sneer. “Enjoy her. Unfortunately, I found her to be quite frigid.”
Astrid gasped. “I never touched you, you lying cretin.”
That time, it was only by a supreme effort of will that Thane kept his body from surging forward. His gaze panned from Astrid’s heated face to Beaumont’s smug expression, but he was careful to give no reaction. No doubt, the earlwantedhim to react physically so that he could have him thrown into gaol.
“You should get back into your coach, Beaumont,” he said in a low voice. “Or I will have my seconds call on you forthwith, if that is your wish.”
The man had the good sense to blanch. “This isn’t over.”
“Come near either of them again, and you will face me at dawn.”
After a seething Beaumont departed in his coach, for the first time since he arrived, Thane took in the stares of the villagers around him. He sensed the fear and the loathing, heard the dread in their voices, understood their horror. He hadn’t shown his face in public in years, after all. He was both man and myth. Both legend and the ugly, glaring truth.
And he’d forgotten his bloody hat.
The furor rose in crescendo, and he felt the world start to crowd him. The voices rose and rose, and the countenances of the villagers whirled, their faces merging. His head felt hot, and the earth started to spin.
“Breathe,” a low voice said, slim gloved fingers weaving with his larger ones and squeezing. “I’m here.”
“Astrid.”
Her palm was like an anchor, tethering him back to reason. Like a cloud fragmenting, his senses cleared, just from her palliative grip.
“Help Isobel and Agatha up.” She nodded to the waiting curricle, her voice low. “I’ve got this.”
“You can handle the team?” he rasped.
She shot him a jaunty grin and winked. “I made our coachman teach me.”
He shot her a dry look. “Why am I not surprised?”
“Don’t trust me, Duke?”
“You’d be surprised to know how much I do trust you.”
When they were all settled, he climbed up beside her. She rode for home much more sedately than the life-threatening pace he’d taken getting to the village, after the groom he’d tasked with keeping an eye on the ladies returned with the news that the earl had been spotted.
Naturally, she managed the horses with a deft, expert touch. But despite his admiration, by the time they took the turn at the start of his estate, Thane’s earlier annoyance returned in full force. Things could have gone far worse if he had been a minute or two later. He kept his mounting irritation in check until they pulled into the courtyard at Beswick Park, but as soon as they stopped, his control broke.
“What were you thinking?” he thundered, handing her down from the driver’s perch and keeping her hand caught in his as he practically dragged her inside.
Her beautiful ice-blue eyes widened. “I—”
“It wasn’t Astrid’s fault,” Isobel cried, hurrying behind them, their maid on their heels. “It was mine, Your Grace. I wanted to go to the village. She tried to warn me, and I wouldn’t listen. Please don’t be angry with her.”
“I’m not angry.”
“Then, why are you manhandling me?” Astrid asked. He released her like she was a hot stone, and she stumbled backward, nearly crashing into her sister.
“In my study,” Thane ordered, throttling his ire. “Both of you.Now.”
He didn’t look to see if they followed but went straight past his desk to pour himself a liberal glass of brandy. When the door closed behind him, he turned to see Astrid standing there alone.Thatis for the best, he thought. Isobel would probably burst into a puddle of tears for the blistering he had planned.
Thane opened his mouth, but Astrid lifted a palm. “Thank you,” she said. “That must have been hard for you.”
He blinked. Did she not realize how close they had come to being at Beaumont’s utter mercy? “Hard forme?”
