Page 93 of The Beast of Beswick
The Regent frowned at the thought of being deterred from his revelry. “What’s that? Though you must be quick. I’m famished and thirsty.” He laughed and belched loudly, patting his round belly.
Thane focused on the matter at hand, knowing he didn’t have long before something or someone else caught the Regent’s regard. The man had the attention span of a gnat. “The Earl of Beaumont recently petitioned you regarding his suit to marry Lady Isobel Everleigh, Viscount Everleigh’s niece.”
“I don’t recall, but I’ve been in my cups of late,” he said with a pasty grin. Thane suppressed his sigh. The Prince Regent was well-known for his excesses. Though if he didn’t remember his agreement with Beaumont, then that was a good thing. “Beaumont, Beaumont. Yes, I seem to recall something about a chit.”
“She has married the Marquess of Roth,” Thane said. “With my backing. However, I did not mean to go above any agreement you might have made.”
The Regent scratched his chin and chortled. “Roth, that bounder, is married?”
“He needed to inherit.”
“Ah yes, our esteemed rules of aristocratic primogeniture.” He rolled his eyes as his entourage twittered. “Good, because he owes me a thousand quid.”
Prinny’s love of gambling was no secret, even coupled with the fact that he was head over heels in debt. It wouldn’t surprise Thane ifheowed Roth money, instead of the other way around.
“And Beaumont?” he said.
“Don’t worry—we’ll find him someone else.”
Thane cleared his throat. “There’s one more thing, Your Highness. Beaumont served in my regiment and left his watch post during an ambush. Many men died, and as you know, I barely survived. Several men reported that his gunshot wound was self-inflicted. When I returned to England, it was only to learn that he had been discharged with honor and inherited his uncle’s title.”
The Regent’s eyes narrowed, his irritation clear. “What is it you wish me to do?”
“Open an investigation,” Thane said. “That’s all I ask. Provide justice for those men who died.”
“Very well, I’ll get someone on it. But no more, Beswick. You’re trying my patience as is.” He waved an arm. “Get a drink. Indulge.”
He bowed. “Of course, Your Highness.”
Thane let out the breath he’d been holding. Given Prinny’s capricious nature, he could have gone either way. He could have taken great insult at Thane’s accusations. Thankfully, Thane’s military service to the Crown spoke for itself, and his reputation preceded him, even with the Regent, whose only goals in life involved gambling, womanizing, and drinking. However, most things with Prinny didn’t come without a price, and so Thane waited.
“I look forward to some sport at Beswick Park before the Little Season,” Prinny said over his shoulder as he moved toward the entrance to his residence and then gestured for his entourage to follow.
Thane pinched his lips but nodded. The abbey had not been open to guests since his father died, and the last thing Thane wanted was to host a bunch of drunken womanizers in the form of the Carlton set anytime soon. Their type of sport didn’t tend to favor grouse or foxes. They had a reputation for debauchery and dissipation, two things he no longer had a taste for.
After doing as requested and forcing down a glass of fine whiskey—he didn’t want to insult the Regent in his own home—Thane made his way back to the front as unobtrusively as possible and signaled a footman to retrieve his horse while he waited in the entrance hall. His skin felt tight, and his scars pulled. He needed to get back home. Needed a swim.
“I think you might have forgotten something behind, Your Grace,” a lilting voice said.
Thane froze at the sound, his breath stilling in his lungs, and turned to see an angel in midnight-blue satin standing at the top of the steps just inside the doors. He blinked. Surely he was dreaming. But no, when he opened his eyes, Astrid was still there.
He closed his eyes and gripped his thigh with numb fingers, fighting the pull of her voice with everything in him. Footsteps clicked against the polished checkered marble as she drew closer, and soon, her scent curled around him, weakening his resolve even further.
“What’s that?” he said without thinking.
“Your wife.”
…
Astrid stared at him, her heart pounding in her throat.
She’d left Lady Hammerton’s not long after he had, but it had taken her a bit longer, as she’d opted to use Mabel’s carriage and she knew he’d ridden on Goliath. Even with a team of horses pulling the coach, that was no match for Goliath’s stamina or speed. But she was here now, and that was all that mattered.
“Did you follow me?” he asked.
“I had to.”
“How could you be so foolish, Astrid?” he chided, steering her into a nearby alcove away from the throngs of people flocking through the hall. “Do you know how dangerous the roads are at this time of night? You could have been hurt, stopped by highwaymen, robbed, or killed!”
