Page 70 of The Beast of Beswick
“What do you mean?” he asked, catching a glimpse of voluminous white silvery skirts as she twirled past.
“She’s your duchess, Thane. The only one she should be enjoying is you, which seemed to be the case until she returned to the ballroom looking quite beautiful, furious, and thoroughly ravished—to the trained eye, that is.” She tilted her head. “What did you say to her?”
He scowled softly under his mask and drew his aunt into the quiet alcove behind them. “Why would you think I’ve said anything to her?”
“Because you’re you,” she said. “And you’re absolutely incapable of not ruining things for yourself.”
“She wants children.”
“So give her some.”
“I cannot.” Thane huffed a breath. “And you know why.”
If there was anyone who knew more about the self-loathing that filled him, it was Aunt Mabel. She had been there in the years no one else was, not even his father. There when he’d smashed every mirror in the house. When he’d locked himself away for weeks. When he’d screamed and growled at everyone like an animal. She’d stroked his stitched face, soothed his volatile tempers, and loved him anyway.
“A child will love his father no matter what, Thane.”
“And what of everyone else?” He wanted to pinch the bridge of his nose between his fingers, to ward off the beginnings of a throbbing headache, but the stupid mask was in the way. His scars had pulled tight with the tension crawling all over his body. “I won’t allow any child of mine to be ridiculed. Isn’t it bad enough Imarriedher and forced her into this?” He gestured to himself. “I’m angry and broken, Aunt. I can’t love or let anyone close without hurting them. I don’t know how to.”
“You letmein.”
He sighed and scrubbed at his face. “You’re different.”
“Have you considered that you might be pushing her away before she has a chance to leave you?”
Thane stared at her, fingers curling into fists, the familiar bitterness rising like a volcano inside him. He wasn’t the paste that kept things together. He was the club that broke them apart. His darkness owned him, inside and out. People ran from him because he made them. All of his friends—save Roth—Lady Sarah Bolton, and most of his servants. They’d all left.
And Astrid would, too…one day.
Allowing her in would only be setting himself up for heartache. But what was the alternative? Letting her go?Thathe could not fathom.
“I must go,” he said tightly. “Forgive me, Aunt. You’ll see Astrid home?”
“Of course, dear boy.”
…
Astrid knew the instant Thane went. It was like a great energy had departed the room—as if he were the sun, and she, some lonely oscillating planet, remained helpless in his gravity. Her false smiles and laughter felt heavy, the weight of them unbearable, but she’d forced herself to dance and converse, even knowing that he stood there, watching. Brooding.
How could he be so heated one moment and so frigid the next?
How could he whisper such tender words and then cut her so deeply?
For a few shared heartbeats out in the garden, he’d been unguarded. He’d let her in. She’d let him in, too. But perhaps it’d been too much too soon for both of them. His scars went way past his skin, breaking him irreparably on the inside.
She couldn’t save him. Couldn’t fix him.
After the last quadrille, Astrid should have sought out Mabel, but instead, she headed to the retiring room, where she patted a length of toweling to her cheeks and stared at her reflection. Her hair was hopelessly mussed, though Queen Titania wouldn’t care. Behind her white silk demi-mask, her eyes were overly bright, like two frozen aquamarines in her face, and her lips were still swollen from her husband’s kisses. She touched the tip of her index finger to her lower lip, reimagining his caress, the stroke of his tongue, and tore her hand away.
Enough, you dolt.
She turned to leave when a cloud of satin nearly bowled her over. “Oh God, Astrid, it’s so wonderful to see you,” Isobel squealed. “We only have a moment. I managed to lose Aunt Mildred in the refreshment room. The woman is like a leech!”
Astrid clutched her sister close, her heart swelling with love and relief, her already chaotic emotions untangling within her.
“How have you been?” she blurted out, pushing Isobel back so she could assess her sister’s well-being for herself. Her sister looked…well and happy. She seemed composed. Older, even.
“Good,” Isobel said with a bright smile. “Uncle Reggie has commissioned me a whole new wardrobe in the hope I find an acceptable suitor this Season.”
