Page 84 of The Beast of Beswick
She nodded. “To the Ralston soiree with Isobel.” Once more, she pushed a smile to her lips. “You don’t mind, do you, Your Grace? I know how much you loathe such things.”
He did not respond to her barb. “Enjoy your evening.”
“And you, Your Grace.”
Their excessively polite interaction had infuriated her to no end, and the following night, it was much the same. Even Mabel had seemed disheartened, her usual optimism absent. She offered no explanation for her nephew’s disposition, and every time Astrid tried to get answers of her own and chip past the wall of ice growing between them, he walked away.
If she hadn’t caught the naked longing in his eyes one or two times when he thought she wasn’t looking, Astrid would have believed he felt nothing. It made her think of what Mabel had told her about her nephew when she’d urged her not to give up on him.Deep down, he doesn’t feel he deserves happiness. So he pushes everyone away.
Was that what he was doing?
It was definitely possible. Over the past weeks, they’d connected in more ways than one…intellectually, emotionally, physically. And before the opera, she might have even said that Thane had come to care about her. Their intimacy had deepened, blossomed. Astrid blushed. So much so that she had fondled him in public. No one had seen them, obscured in the box as they were, but that was as flagrant a sentiment as any.
The more she thought about it, the more it made sense. They’d come together in darkness—first in the arbor and then in his bedchamber and every other time since. The opera had been a turning point. For both of them. A different type of affirmation.
Wasthatwhat had sent him running?
The next day, when the duke summoned her to his study to inform her of his intention to send her back to Beswick Park, Astrid had had enough. She would not be discarded like this. A part of her wanted to argue it was for Isobel’s sake that she needed to stay, but it was more than that. In her heart of hearts, the truth was that she did not care to be parted from him. What, then, did that say about her?
“That you are a fool who has fallen in love with someone who can never love you back,” she whispered to herself.
“Which gown pleases you tonight, Your Grace?” Alice asked, walking in from the adjoining bath.
Astrid frowned. Which gown indeed. She was at a crossroads. She could tuck her tail between her legs and allow him to chase her away, or she could refuse. Make a stand. She was only ever a coward when it came to this man, but she was terrified of what confronting him would bring.
Then again, fear had never helped anyone onward.
Her husband was at his heart a man of war. He understood the push and pull of battle. She needed to rethink her strategy. To reach him, she needed to dig deep into the arsenal she had at her disposal.
“The red silk,” she said decisively.
Alice’s eyes went round, and Astrid felt a shiver of apprehension chase down her spine. The red silk dress was one of Madame Pinot’s most daring creations, with a neckline that covered much less than it revealed. After her bath, Astrid donned the provocative gown. Alice frowned, her eyes fixated on the embroidered edge as if her stare was the only thing holding her breasts in place. Good gracious, if Astrid so much as sneezed, her bosom would tumble out of the bodice. As it was, she was sure she could see the pink edges of her nipples.
“Perhaps it was meant to be worn with a chemisette,” Alice suggested.
“Madame Pinot did not say so.”
A blush singed her cheeks as Astrid stared at her reflection. The dress was beyond daring. And its indecency didn’t stop at the bodice that also left her shoulders shockingly bare. It clung to her corseted form like a second skin, cinching her waist and hips before falling in decadent crimson folds to the floor. A rich blond lace overlay at the bodice, waist, and hem gave the gown an almost Spanish flair.
Astrid paired it with elegant elbow-length champagne-colored gloves and soft matching embroidered heeled slippers. Alice had styled her hair in a simple updo, and she wore no jewelry save for a necklace with a ruby pendant that nestled in the hollow between her breasts.
“His Grace will not approve of you going anywhere in that gown,” Alice muttered.
Astrid smiled through her sudden panic. “I should hope not.”
When she walked into the dining room, her husband’s back was to her. He was deep in conversation with his solicitor, Sir Thornton, and his wife, Lady Claudia. Astrid hadn’t realized they were having guests for dinner, and she almost spun around in retreat. But Mabel, whose eyes had sparked with mischievous delight upon seeing her, came to kiss her cheek.
“Bold move,” she whispered.
Her smile felt wobbly. “A wise friend told me not to give up.”
With a proud look, Mabel squeezed Astrid’s fingers as if to say,Good luck, and then said loudly, “Astrid, dear, don’t you look lovely.”
The duke turned in painful slow motion, but when his gaze slid over her, he froze, his mouth going slack and then tight with displeasure. His expression shuttered but not before Astrid saw the flare of lust in those leonine eyes.Good.
“Thank you, Aunt,” she said in an unusually breathless voice. Her heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest and gallop from the room. She greeted Lady Claudia and Sir Thornton. The poor solicitor’s cheeks went ruddy, but Claudia’s admiring glance bolstered Astrid’s flagging courage.
She beamed at her scowling husband, whose face now almost matched her dress as he shepherded her a few steps away, out of earshot of the others. The warm, spicy scent of him curled over her, and she had to fight to not close the distance between them and lick the pulse throbbing madly in his neck. Gracious, she was a fool for this man.
