Page 46 of The Beast of Beswick
He stared at her. “What do you know of it?”
Throat working, her face contorted with something like pain as she ducked her head, hiding her face from view. Was she speaking from experience? Had she fancied herself in love with Cain?
“Nothing,” she said.
“How many poems and novels have been written as a result of broken hearts?” Thane said, shifting closer on the bench. “Complete drivel, I say. Love is for fools.”
“You don’t believe in love?” The question was soft, almost inaudible.
“No.”
“Neither do I.”
Thane was intrigued at her firm assertion and the undercurrent of raw pain in her voice. “What happened with Cain, Astrid? Why did he cry off?”
Crystal-blue eyes fastened to his, buried hurt visible for a stark moment before it was banished. She’d alluded to it in his study after they were discovered, but he had never asked her about it outright, to hear it from her lips. “You know why. Beaumont called off the engagement when rumors of my indiscretions surfaced,” she replied in a dispassionate tone, shutters descending over those expressive eyes.
“Did he compromise you?”
It didn’t seem like she was going to answer, but then she nodded as if to herself.
“He tried,” she said. “He thought because he was my fiancé he was entitled to”—she glanced at him, flushing—“his marital rights. Even though I knew he was to be my husband, I said no.” She exhaled and closed her eyes for an interminable moment. “I felt ill when he touched me, and it was then that I realized I had made a mistake in accepting his offer—we simply weren’t suited—and I suggested that we end the engagement amicably.”
A puff of deprecating laughter left her lips. “Amicably. It’s such a mild word, isn’t it? It makes you think everything is going to be fine. God, I was so naive. Edmund agreed, only to turn around the next day spreading vicious lies about my character and thathewas forced to cry off the engagement. No one believed me. He destroyed any hope of a future I had without a qualm. Because he felt scorned. Because a woman had the gall to tell him no.”
“He ruined any chance you had for another match,” Thane discerned.
“Yes. The Everleighs had suddenly become outcasts. Friends abandoned us; invitations were withdrawn. We were shunned and cast aside.” Astrid stared down at the book in her hands. “Poor Isobel…to be caught in the sights of the same man who destroyed me. I fear it’s history repeating itself, and I’ll lose my sister for it.”
Thane felt a muscle start to tick in his jaw and saw her eyes flick to it. Her eyes hardened as though she expected him to doubt her account. But he couldn’t begin to articulate the feelings crowding his chest—the sympathy for what she’d been through, the fact that all he could see in her eyes was pain and the fear of being hurt yet again.
Thane wanted nothing more than to gather her into his arms and soothe away the hurts she’d suffered. But he sensed Astrid would not welcome the overture. She was anything if not proud. Proud and strong and unbelievably resilient. Most women would have crumbled in the face of her past. She hadn’t.
“None of it matters anyway,” she said quickly. “People will believe what they want to believe.”
“Beaumont is a snake.”
“Perhaps, but he wasn’t alone in theton’s vilification of me. Everyone loves a good scandal, no matter who gets incinerated in its wake.” A hint of a smile ghosted her lips. “Don’t worry—he didn’t quite get away unscathed. I believe I called him a grasping, oversexed gutter rat in front of the entire assembly.”
Thane barked a laugh. “The least of what he deserved.”
She lifted a shoulder in a half shrug, though he could still see the old injury in her eyes. “Beaumont is just an overindulged, entitled prick.” She blew out a breath. “My story is not so different from other women who have been silenced. That’s why I’m so fond of Wollstonecraft’s essays. If women were treated equally, I would have been allowed to plead my case. To tell the truth. Instead of having to live with the assumptions and sentencing of others.” She smiled ruefully. “But you said it yourself—that’s the way the world works.”
“It shouldn’t be,” he said quietly. “Beaumont took something from you. It might not have been your virginity, but the truth is, he stole something valuable just the same. Part ofyou.”
A look of vulnerability crossed her face that she quickly hid. She set the volume of poetry aside and reached down for her slippers. “If you will excuse me, Your Grace, I am for bed.”
He leaped up and knelt at her feet, taking the shoes before she could grasp them. “Allow me. And it’s Thane.”
A blush rose to her cheeks. “What are you doing?”
“If we are to be married, it’s the…”
But Thane lost his ability to speak at the sight of her bare toes and the pale, high arch of her instep. She wasn’t wearing stockings beneath her skirts, andfucking hell, her slender feet were just like her hands—fine-boned and elegant, as though carved by some master sculptor.
“It’s the what?” she asked, breathless.
He blinked. “Chivalrous thing to do.”
