Page 39 of The Beast of Beswick
“Being out in public.”
“I didn’t think of it until there at the end.” He raked a hand through his hopelessly tangled hair. “Astrid, do you have any idea the danger you were in?”
“You prevented that,” she said softly.
“This time,” he said. “But Edmund Cain is not a man to be deterred, and now that he knows you are here, things could get worse. Much worse.”
“I know.” Astrid approached where he stood, her scent curling around him, and Thane went stock-still as she lifted the snifter from his hand and took a long draught before handing it back to him. He stared at it and then her in dumbfounded silence.
“Did you mean what you said?” she asked, her voice husky from the bite of the brandy. “Or was matrimony only a ploy to discourage the earl? It seemed like you were already acquainted. How do you know him?”
“He was in my regiment.” Thane did not want to talk about Cain and dredge up those memories. “And marriage is the only safe course now,” he went on. “If your uncle comes looking for you—and he will—without a husband’s name behind you, you have no power.”
“And you wish to give me yours?”
“I wish for you to be safe.”
She canted her head at him, her eyes unguarded and full of emotion. “Why do you care? When you didn’t before?”
Thane gulped the rest of the cognac, focusing on the hot burn in his stomach instead of the insistent burn elsewhere. “You work for me. Without you, the stupid auction will never happen.”
“Is the auction the only reason?”
“What other reason would there be?” he shot back, needlessly vexed. “That you and your sister stormed into my perfectly ordered life and left nothing but mayhem in your wake? That I happened to enjoy my existence as it was before you decided to employ a woman-shaped hammer to it?” He stood, breathing heavily, unwilling to meet her eyes because he had no doubt she would see right through his bluster, right through his lies. “I care now because Ican’tin good conscience turn a blind eye. My mother would roll over in her grave.”
“How chivalrous of you, Your Grace.” Her tone implied the opposite. “One would think that you’d never rescued a damsel in distress.”
No one was worth rescuing before.
Thane sucked in a sharp breath. “Not to my knowledge, no. Women tend to be more trouble than they’re worth. Case in point. Which is why I’ve made it my business to stay away from your species.”
“We are the same species, Your Grace.” Her defenses were up, the vulnerability that had been in her eyes long gone. “I take it you mean my gender.”
That haughty pedantic tone of hers had returned, putting them both back on safe ground. Thane mourned it and celebrated it in the same breath. “Quite,” he agreed. “In any event, you strike me as a lady who is more than capable of rescuing herself, and I mean that as a compliment.”
“Thank you, Your Grace. In most cases, I aim to be. But you have my everlasting gratitude, and Isobel’s, for what you did today.”
Thane’s chest clenched at her words. For once, he was the hero instead of the villain of the story. He’d forgotten what it had felt like to be trulyesteemed. For a moment, he found himself choked with emotion. “You’re welcome.”
“You do not have to marry me, Your Grace. I’ve decided that Isobel and I should leave for Scotland. Beaumont and my uncle won’t follow us there.”
“You are wrong about Beaumont. And don’t underestimate the power of greed.”
Astrid lifted an elegant shoulder. “My problem to handle.”
“And what of brigands and highwaymen en route? How do you propose to deal with them? To keep your sister safe?”
“We will have Patrick with us,” she said.
The groom who had been familiar with her. Thane felt an indescribable urge to flatten something. Preferably something Scottish. And large. With red hair.
“His family will offer us refuge,” Astrid said.
If Thane hadn’t been watching her so carefully, he would have missed the slight twinge of doubt that passed over her face. He’d bet his last farthing that she hadn’t approached the groom yet with her asinine plan. Fleeing to Scotland? They wouldn’t be able to lose the track of seasoned Runners, not in a carriage with two ladies, a maid, and a single groom for an escort. And Beaumont would have Isobel exactly where he wanted her—in a place celebrated for its elopements and anvil weddings. He felt his anger return as if it was attached to a pendulum.
Thane arched an eyebrow. “Have you told him of your plan yet?”
“No, but he’ll agree.”
