Page 43 of The Beast of Beswick
Thane’s gaze pivoted to land on Astrid, who was standing to his right beside her sister, her chin high. She would hold him to task and blister him with her tongue behind closed doors, but she would not dishonor him publicly.
“I’ve reached my majority, and it says clearly in my father’s will that in my own sound judgment, I may pick a husband of my choosing.” Her smile was tight. “As long as he is of good birth, titled, and not a fortune hunter as we’ve already established, my choice shall stand. The Duke of Beswick is a sound match.”
“Sound? You’re not of sound judgment, more like it,” he accused. “Lookat him,” he shouted again. “He’s a bloody beast who doesn’t even possess the manners to exist in polite society. Is that what you want? To accept that savagecreatureinto your bed?”
Isobel gasped, her face flushing at her uncle’s crudeness, and the older ladies present tittered with disapproval.
“Uncle!” Astrid cried, her gaze flying to Thane’s, but he was used to it and more. He kept his expression shuttered, despite the urge to smash his fist into the viscount’s mouth, but he would not give him or Beaumont the satisfaction or an excuse to call his mental capabilities into question. He wouldn’t put it past either man to undermine him with accusations of violence. Founded on the battlefield though such claims might be, Thane would never harm a woman.
Lady Ashley huffed. “For shame, Lord Everleigh—you venture into the obscene. And in the presence of gently bred ladies, no less. Forshame, my lord.”
“It is the duke who has no shame. He has ruined my precious niece.Forcedher.”
And there it was—accusation number one.
“Is this true, Your Grace?” the parish officer who had accompanied Beaumont asked, speaking for the first time.
“Why not ask the lady?” Thane replied. “Lady Astrid is more than capable of speaking for herself.”
He’d expected her to reply, not to move to his side and take his hand firmly in hers. Thane’s throat felt tight. A tremble passed over her shoulders. “The duke did not force me. I accepted his suit of my own free will.”
“Good Lord, see how she’s shaking with fear,” Lady Everleigh cried. “I saw it. The girl is terrified. An imbecile could see it!”
Thane opened his mouth to silence the absurdity once and for all, but Astrid beat him to it. She met her aunt’s crazed eyes with cool composure, the hint of a smile on her lips. “I assure you, Aunt Mildred, it’s not fear that makes me shiver.”
God. This woman.
Thane was so fucking proud of her in that moment, he wanted to crush her to him. Fall to his knees and worship her as she deserved. His own avenging angel. Others saw it, too. He could see the sheen of tears in his aunt’s eyes and the surprise in Lady Ashley’s. He ignored the disgust in everyone else’s, as if it was so inconceivable that a living, breathing woman could feel anything but revulsion for him. Thane felt an odd sensation in his chest… as if the organ that used to be there had suddenly started working.
“You are sick and wicked, child,” Lady Everleigh whispered. “That you would bed the devil himself.”
“That is enough,” Thane said in a dark, deadly voice. “Leave, all of you.”
“Isobel, retrieve your things,” the viscount commanded.
“No,” she said calmly. “I’m staying here with Astrid.”
Astrid moved toward her sister, but Beaumont blocked her path. “She is betrothed to me,” he said. “Perhaps a double wedding will be in order.”
“Over my dead body,” Astrid snarled.
“There’s nothing you can do about it,” he said. “The settlement has already been reached.”
Thane’s longtime solicitor, Sir Thornton, cleared his throat. “According to the documents of the late Lord Everleigh, which I’ve secured from Jenkins and Jenkins, the viscount’s prior solicitor, it is clear to me that should Lady Astrid take a husband, he will act as guardian in the interests of both his wife and Lady Isobel.”
“Isobel is already betrothed,” Everleigh insisted. “It is done.”
Sir Thornton went on as if the viscount hadn’t spoken. “Since your niece’s nuptials have yet to take place, approval must be granted by Lady Astrid’s husband.”
“Then we will do it via special license,” Beaumont hissed, reaching for Isobel.
“Donotlay a finger on her,” Thane said, the soft words as effective as if he’d roared them. “I warned you what would happen, Beaumont, if you came near my fiancée or her sister again. Now pay heed or you will not like the outcome.”
“Are you calling me out?” he asked, throwing a look to the parish officer. “Dueling is illegal.”
“Do you wish me to spell it out? Very well. I dislike your style. I dislike your small mind. I dislike the knot in your cravat. I dislikeyou. Shall I continue? Or have I insulted you enough?”
A bead of sweat formed on the man’s brow. “You go too far, Beswick.”
