Page 39 of A Scandalous Bargain
“Awhile,” Worth said. “You just arrived?”
“Yes, against my better judgment. This Bowles fellow is an upstart. His house is a tad vulgar, don’t you think?”
Beatrix froze. She couldn’t think of a thing to say. She could barely think. He hadn’t recognized her at all. In fact, it was as if she wasn’t even standing there. Was he giving her the cut direct? She had no idea. What’s more, he was insulting Rafe and his house!
Worth sniffed. “I rather like it. You’re being overly staid. May I present Miss Beatrix Whitford? She is Mister Bowles’s sister.” He said the last with a pointed edge.
Her father at last looked at her—really looked at her. And inclined his head again. “Miss Whitford.” He didn’t seem the least bit sorry that he’d insulted her “brother.” Nor did he recognize her. Or if he did, he was exceptionally good at disguising it.
She sank into a well-rehearsed curtsey. “Good evening, Your Grace. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.” Rising, she waited for him to make some pleasant small talk. Instead, he returned his attention to his son.
“I want to introduce you to someone.”
“In a moment,” Worth said with a hint of irritation. “I’m speaking with Miss Whitford.”
The duke’s brows pitched down, and his mouth twisted with disappointment. “Now, if you please.”
Worth’s eyes sparked, and he opened his mouth to respond.
Beatrix cut him off. “It’s all right. You go on,” she said, eager to be free of him—or more accurately, any potential flirtation. In truth, she somewhat liked him. Or thought she would if they became friends. Or siblings.
He looked toward her. “Are you certain? We haven’t danced yet.”
She laughed gaily. “Oh, there’s plenty of time for that.” Right now, she wanted to get away from everyone before the hurt rising in her throat spilled from her eyes.
“Very well.” Worth pivoted and went with the duke, who didn’t so much as spare a glance toward Beatrix.
Cheeks burning, she spun around and stalked from the ballroom into an adjoining room where people were playing cards. She wove through the chamber and into another, then another. This house was a bloody maze!
At last, she was in a room without people, and, thankfully, she knew where she was. Turning to the left, she went into the wing of the house where the redecoration hadn’t yet been completed.
She found herself in Rafe’s large, spectacular library. Though there was no one inside, there were lanterns partially illuminating the room.
It was in a state of disarray, the renovation incomplete. Not all the shelves were in place, and those that were held only a fraction of the books they would eventually support. There would be more than she could ever possibly read. Or not. She would enjoy the challenge.
Yes, think of books. Think of anything but your father.
Too late. He’d barely even looked at her! Even if he hadn’t recognized her, he’d still been rude. He hadn’t even apologized for insulting Rafe even after learning she was his sister.
Tears burned her eyes, but she refused to shed them. Perhaps there was a reason he’d acted that way. What if he’d recognized her and was simply too surprised to look at or speak to her?
Except if he’d been that shocked, she surely would have seen some sign of it. All that aside, he’d behaved horribly. How dare he speak of Rafe like that?
She stamped her foot and furiously worked to rein in her emotions. A movement caught her eye. A man dressed entirely in black, save his ivory shirt, wearing a mask that covered all of his face except his mouth closed the door behind him.
Beatrix’s emotions gathered into one—fear. There was only one reason a man would follow her. And she was without her knife and pistol. Looking about for a weapon, her gaze fell on a candlestick on a table.
She took a few steps and wrapped her hand around the middle. Raising the brass candlestick, she faced the masked man. “Don’t come any closer.”
The man stalked toward her.
She waved the candlestick. “I mean it!”
“I know you do.” He untied the mask and pulled it from his face. “Beatrix.”
She gaped at Tom. “I would have hit you.”
“I’m well aware,” he said wryly. “I’ve seen you defend yourself, and, as you’ve pointed out, you’re quite capable.”
