Page 80 of The Beast of Beswick
She fell silent, seeing his struggle for what it was. He was beyond panicked. Not to compare him to a horse, but it was much the same as when Brutus reacted to a crop. The duke was stiff with terror. Sure, it was in a private box with a private entrance that he paid handsomely for, but it was out in public nonetheless. A gargantuan feat, clearly, for him.
“You don’t have to do this.”
Stone-jawed, he flared his nostrils. “Leave it. I’m here.”
The rest of the short journey to Covent Garden passed in silence, and when they arrived, they were indeed whisked through a private narrow hallway to the Duke of Beswick’s box. It was unlit but for the light that came from elsewhere. The production had already begun, so they sat quietly and quickly to avoid drawing undue attention. Astrid noticed that all the boxes on either side of theirs were empty.
Thane saw her stare. “I bought them all.”
She didn’t even want to think of what that would have cost. The duke did not put a price on privacy.
“Beaumont’s box is over there,” he said in a tight voice.
Astrid reached for her lorgnettes and held them up to her eyes. Her sister, Isobel, was indeed in Beaumont’s box a few levels down. However, their aunt and uncle were not. Upon further scrutiny, she saw that the earl and her sister weren’t quite alone. Agatha, God bless her, sat toward the back. She was only a maid, but Astrid breathed a sigh of relief.
Astrid scanned the other boxes, and true to her word, Aunt Mabel sat in the section adjacent to them. Opening her fan, the duchess’s glance flicked upward unobtrusively over its lace edge, and Astrid nodded back.
Time for the games to begin.
Chapter Twenty-two
Shortly before the start of the performance, Astrid left the duke’s box. Keeping to shadowy passageways, Mabel’s footman, Frederick, escorted Astrid to Madame Diamante’s suite while the famous opera singer was getting ready to perform onstage. She was as sweet as her voice and made herself scarce soon after the quick introductions. Astrid was grateful for both the lady’s and the footman’s discretion. People would froth at the mouths if they knew Beswickhimself was here. It would not do for her to be discovered.
She waited in the empty sitting room, counting the seconds. They turned into a full minute, then another, then five. And then ten. Isobel wasn’t coming. Frederick had indicated he would return shortly with her sister, but as the minutes went by, she grew less confident. Had Beaumont restricted her? Refused to let her leave his side? Hewouldbe that controlling. Astrid drew a fretful breath and then released it.
Perhaps Frederick was being careful.
Or perhaps Isobel wasn’t coming.
In a mild state of panic, Astrid shook her head. She could not risk being discovered, and every moment that went by, she risked someone running into her before the performance started. Just as she rose to leave, the door cracked open, and her sister’s beautiful face emerged. They embraced quickly. “Astrid, I received your message. Are you well?”
“You have five minutes before the performance starts, Your Grace,” Frederick whispered.
“Thank you,” she said and then turned back to her sister, who looked lovelier than the last time Astrid had seen her. She wore a powder-blue satin gown that flattered her porcelain complexion to perfection. Astrid took her hand and sat, patting the seat beside her. “The question is, how are you, Isobel?”
“Quite well, though I’m certain you know that the Earl of Beaumont has asked Uncle Reggie permission to formally court me. Is that why you wanted to meet?”
Astrid winced at the familiar reference to their uncle. Clearly he still held Isobel in thrall if she was using that nickname. “Partly. How do you feel about his suit?”
“He’s persistent for sure, and he’s been the perfect gentleman.” What looked like a fond smile curved her lips. “Uncle claims no one is good enough for me. And, well, we do have to weed out the fortune hunters.”
Fury sparked across Astrid’s spine at the man’s cheek. He had no qualms about manipulating his own niece, when the truth was that he was the worst fortune hunter of them all. She kept her annoyance hidden. “Have any other young men caught your fancy?”
Isobel blushed. “One or two.”
“Which ones?”
“Viscount Morley is more of an acquaintance, but I do enjoy his company. However, I’ve developed a particular tendre for the Marquess of Roth.”
Astrid hadn’t heard of the viscount, but she was familiar with the marquess. Roth had danced with her at the Featheringstoke ball. Though she did not know him well, he was in line for a dukedom, and he was a dashed sight better than Beaumont. And he was an acquaintance of her husband’s.
“Have either of them declared an interest?” she asked.
Isobel hesitated, a calculating look slipping over her features. “Lord Roth might, though he has yet to approach Uncle.” She paused with a tight, proud smile. “I know you think me naive, Astrid, but I do have a working brain in my head. While the Earl of Beaumont has been the very soul of civility, I’m well aware of what both he and Uncle Reggie want. As such, I do not wish to have either of them scaring off any other potential suitors.”
Astrid’s jaw fell open. Sweet, enchanting, sedate Isobel—moving men like chess pieces.
“So you’re here with Beaumont by choice?”
