Page 85 of The Duke of Seduction
Did she?
“I’ll discuss it with her,” Beck said. “Thank you, Gage.”
Gage inclined his head and departed, closing the door behind him.
Beck picked up the letter from Margaret and began to read. He found himself speeding through her descriptions of her daily life and those of her family. Her eldest daughter had become engaged, which made him read more slowly. He couldn’t quite believe she was that old, but then Margaret was twelve years his senior.
He continued reading, and when he saw Helen’s name, his heart began to pound.
It’s been so long since I thought of that time in Helen’s life. She was so despondent at not finding a husband. I know it caused her considerable pain to hear of my marital happiness and our growing family. I was surprised at what she did, but I now realize I somewhat expected it. There was always a shadow across her, and I fear it was destined to swallow her. I did hope that she had found happiness with Lord Haywood, but it seemed even that was not to be. I do wonder what happened there. She told me he wanted to marry her, but when that didn’t happen, I assumed, in her eagerness to wed, that she’d misunderstood.
Haywood? He was the man who’d danced with Helen and gotten her hopes up? It seemed Margaret doubted whether he’d promised to marry Helen, but Beck didn’t for a moment. He was confident Haywood had led his sister on a merry chase.
Or did he just want to believe something—or someone—had pushed Helen to kill herself? What if it had been entirely herself? As Margaret wrote, Helen had always possessed a shadow. As he did. Only hers had seemed deeper and more pervasive. She was often melancholy and complained of feeling lonely. She’d sometimes mentioned not wanting to feel that way any longer, but as a boy, he’d never thought she meant it in a permanent way. He’d never imagined she would want to end her life entirely.
And yet, if she’d considered it, and then two horrid women had encouraged her along that path, would she have done it? Especially if another person, a man, disappointed her? Beck could see how she might have found solace in the unthinkable.
Shit.Did that mean he could see that for himself? Could his dark episodes ever push him to an inconceivable edge? He didn’t think so—they hadn’t yet. Apprehension tripped across his shoulders just the same.
He dropped the letter to his desk and blinked. His gaze settled on the chaise, and he couldn’t help but think of Lavinia. The sultry tilt of her smile, the lush curve of her breast, the sheer joy of her curiosity and desire. Her optimism, her selflessness, her absolute zest for life. She was the perfect antidote to the poison in his soul.
He looked back at the letter and wanted to leap to his feet and drive directly to Haywood’s house to interrogate him about Helen. What had he done to her? Had he led her on and abandoned her as he’d done to the Duchess of Kendal? The man had no shame. Just listening to him earlier outside St. George’s had galled Beck. And now, knowing he was the man Helen had hoped would court her…
Fury raged within him. He stood and went to his guitars. For the first time, he wanted to pick one up and smash it against the floor. He forced himself to take deep breaths and calm his thundering heart.
He could not interrogate Haywood. That was not the way to glean information from a man like him. No, Beck had to come up with another plan, and one was already forming in his mind.
Tonight, after the ball, he’d execute it. And Haywood had better hope he had nothing to do with Helen’s death.
The Morecott Ballwas the best Society event Lavinia had ever attended. It happened that when you became engaged to marry a marquess, everyone—everyone—was kind and charming and effusive with their good wishes. That some of them were insincere didn’t matter to her. Not tonight. Tonight, she was filled with joy and anticipation for the future.
When Beck arrived, Lavinia’s breath snagged in her chest. He was almost sinfully handsome in his black evening clothes. The white of his cravat gleamed against his skin, and she dreamed of ripping it from him along with the rest of his garments.
Well, it hadn’t taken long for her to become a complete wanton.
“Why are you smiling?” Sarah asked from beside her. “Oh, I see the marquess has arrived.” She’d been utterly thrilled to hear of Lavinia’s betrothal.
“We’re going to dance,” Lavinia said, perhaps unnecessarily.
“Seems like that’s a bit overdue,” Sarah said with pointed sarcasm and a smile.
Instead of going to the park that afternoon, Sarah and Fanny had called on Lavinia to hear all about how the engagement had come about. Lavinia had told them what had happened after he’d proposed, though not in great detail. They’d both gaped at her and then said, “Good for you.”
They were the best of friends.
Beck came straight to them and bowed first to Sarah and then to Lavinia, whose hand he took and kissed. The next several minutes were filled with people rushing over to offer their congratulations and the arrival of Lavinia’s mother, who preened over the entire scene.
Lavinia was glad when the waltz started so that she and Beck could be alone. Or at least away from the crowd around them.
She put her hand on his shoulder as he splayed his hand across her back. “I was going to suggest we rendezvous in the library later, but I daresay we won’t be able to sneak away.”
“Perhaps not,” he said with an edge of disappointment. “There’s always tomorrow.”
She laughed. “At church?”
He narrowed his eyes in a thoroughly seductive manner. “I’ll take you wherever I can have you.”
A thrill of anticipation and something far more primitive shot through her. “I may drag you to the library,” she muttered.
