Page 90 of The Beast of Beswick
“Eloise!” Mabel said.
Astrid blinked and pinned her lip between her teeth. The two of them in their younger years would have terrorized England, she was sure of it. She searched the throng of dancers to see if she could find Isobel, but there were too many people.
“So, the Beast of Beswick,” Lady Hammerton said, causing Astrid’s attention to swivel back, while the duchess was in conversation with a gentleman. “Mabel has been extraordinarily tight-lipped about your marriage. Why did you marry him? We know it wasn’t for his good looks. Was it for his money?”
Astrid sputtered at the woman’s gall. “I have a fortune of my own, I assure you.”
“Beautifulandfiery. So why did you marry a man like Beswick when you could have had your pick of any gentleman with a face like yours?”
“Perhaps like you suggested with Beaumont, his value iselsewhere.”
The sexual inference hung in the air like a gauntlet, and then the marchioness guffawed and gestured to Mabel. “Oh, gracious, I do like her.”
“Have you seen my sister, Lady Hammerton?”
The woman sent her an indulgent smile. “Oh, of course. She went out on the balcony a while ago after her waltz with Roth. Lady Beswick, there’s something else I think you should know that concerns—”
But her host’s voice faded into the background as Astrid’s eyes traced the edge of the ballroom to where the balcony doors stood open. She couldn’t see anything beyond the shadowy evening darkness. What she did see on the other side of the room was the Earl of Beaumont cutting through the crowd despite being barred, his mouth tight, and all the blood left her cheeks in a rush.
Astrid didn’t care about being rude; she set off almost at a run, not waiting to hear what Lady Hammerton said. She debated threading through the middle, but there were too many bodies. Instead she headed for the perimeter. She’d be lucky to make it before Beaumont did something unforgivable and history repeated itself.
By the time she arrived on the northeast corner of the ballroom, huffing for breath, a crowd had already gathered, spearheaded by none other than Lady Bevins and her entire prattling entourage. Beaumont was nowhere in sight, thank goodness. He must have been waylaid, or perhaps he hadn’t known Isobel was outside,unchaperoned, in the marquess’s company.
Astrid strove to see over the heads of the people in her path and almost started barging through when she caught a glimpse of Isobel, her cheeks red and eyes bright, standing in the arms of Lord Roth, who looked similarly disheveled.
“Scandalous!” Lady Bevins shrieked and fanned herself. “I saw the chit in a lascivious embrace with the marquess. Scurrilous, I tell you. Like her sister.”
Astrid froze. But her defense came from an unexpected source.
“Have a care, Lady Bevins,” a deep, familiar voice said that sent shivers through Astrid’s core.
The Duke of Beswick stood just inside the balcony doors, his ruined face shadowed by the brim of a hat. What on earth was he doing here? He hated balls and crowds. And besides, hadn’t he been called back to Beswick Park? Astrid glanced around the room as more people noticed his presence and the whispers mounted.
Astrid was gratified to see Lady Bevins go from red to white as she, too, recognized who had spoken. But then, through the shifting bodies, her eye caught something flash on Isobel’s left hand, caught in between the marquess’s fingers, something that looked suspiciously like a ring, and she forgot the odious woman altogether. By the time her comically sluggish brain matched the wide gold band on Roth’s left hand, her husband was already speaking.
“And since Lady Isobel is now Lady Roth, she may indulge in any displays she feels necessary with herhusband. I’ve given my support for the wedding.”
The roar of the crowd felt like thunder in Astrid’s ears until it faded to nothing, and all she could hear was silence as time came to a standstill.
She had to have misheard.
But the swell of guests offering congratulations with lifted glasses filled her vision, offering their toasts and felicitations to the bride and groom. Isobel.Married. Astrid was filled with equal amounts of relief that it wasn’t the Earl of Beaumont and shock that she’d missed her own sister’s wedding. Was this the scandal that Isobel had intended? If so, she had to hand it to her sister…as far as making a statement went, it was remarkable.
“Let me be the first to wish the happy couple all of life’s many blessings,” Lady Hammerton announced from the center of the ballroom, drawing the attention away from the duke, though many prying eyes still remained glued in his direction. “We will celebrate with their first waltz.” With an imperious gesture to the orchestra, the strains of the interrupted waltz resumed.
Astrid took a deep breath and pushed to the place where Beswick remained, half hidden in the shadow of a potted fern, tears in her eyes at her sister’s obvious happiness as she danced with her husband.
“How did you do this?” she whispered, clutching his arm, her brain still spinning with the announcement and the fact that her recalcitrant duke washere. “You went against the Prince Regent? Didn’t Beaumont ask him to overturn the terms of my father’s will?”
“He’ll understand. I’m heading to Carlton House myself to make sure of it,” her husband said, his voice gruff, stepping away so that her hand fell uselessly to her side.
He did not meet her eyes even as he distanced himself. Something was wrong; she could feel the storm brewing in his body, and the fact that he wouldn’t look at her was a stab to the heart, knowing how far they’d come and what they’d each sacrificed to get there.
“How did you do this?” she asked, her heart in her throat.
“It was simply a matter of procuring the license. I spoke with the Archbishop of Canterbury myself. Now you no longer need to worry about Beaumont or your uncle.”
“I…thank you.”
