Beauty Tempts the Beast

by Lorraine Heath

  He studied her. Say something, say something, say something.

  “You were right about the aristocracy. It’s nothing like living in the rookeries. You told me about servants lighting the fires. I didn’t know they were called to stir the blasted thing. You have two dukes. One is more important than the other. You better make certain you sit them at the correct place at the table.” He shook his head. “Relatively quickly I’m going to have to take a wife—someone who grew up among the aristocracy and knows all the finer details to help me navigate my way through Society.”

  Certain he was going to ask her once more, she began lining up her arguments for why it couldn’t be her, but they sounded hollow now in light of how much she’d missed him.

  “My father assures me I’ll have no trouble a’tall finding a lady willing to marry me.”

  Her heart thudded with the realization that another woman would be the recipient of his proposal. All for the best. With a great deal of effort, she managed to say, “I’m sure you won’t.”

  He held her gaze with such intensity, she thought it would be impossible for them to ever separate. “Thea, if he had another son, I’d find a way to pass off this obligation that’s been thrust on me. But when I think of what they went through, especially my mother, when I see how much they love me, even though I wasn’t part of their lives all these years—their pride, their joy—I can’t not be the son they’d hoped I’d be.”

  Of course he’d be a loyal son who’d make them proud because that was the sort of man he was. It was one of the reasons she loved him so much. “I know.”

  “They’re hosting a ball next week in order to introduce their son around.” Reaching into his jacket, he walked up to her and held out the vellum. “I would like for you to attend.”

  “It’ll ruin things for them, for you.”

  “I think you’re wrong.” He tossed it onto the low table in front of the sofa. “I’ll leave it in case you change your mind.”

  “I won’t. Please don’t hope that I will. You’ll only be disappointed.”

  “I’d rather risk disappointment than take no risk at all.”

  With that, the Earl of Tewksbury strode out of the room, leaving her wishing that he’d at least kissed her before he left.

  “You have a visitor in the parlor.”

  Althea gave a start at Jewel’s voice coming to her unexpectedly. She’d been reading the invitation Benedict had left with her five days earlier, not the first time she’d done so, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. Every time she did, she envisioned him taking her in his arms and sweeping her over the dance floor. It was a beautiful dream, one that also visited when she slept. Except then, when they circled the room, as they passed by, people gave them their backs. She would awaken in a sweat, heart thundering, guilt gnawing at her because she brought him such shame.

  “Is it him?” Had he come to ask her again?

  “It’s a woman. Says she’s the Duchess of Glasford.”

  His mother. Why would she come here? She shot to her feet, patted her hair.

  “Do I look all right?” She shook her head before Jewel could answer. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.” What did she care what the duchess thought of her?

  She dashed down the stairs and into the parlor, stumbling to a stop at the sight of the woman in the wheelchair. She needed to talk to Jewel about communicating more information so she wasn’t taken by surprise. Hell, she needed to have a word with Benedict. Why hadn’t he mentioned his mother’s situation? She curtsied. “Your Grace.”

  “Miss Stanwick?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  The woman tilted her head up to the man standing beside her. “John, please wait in the foyer until I’m ready to depart.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  The man walked out, a servant, no doubt, who saw to her needs.

  “I’ll see about having some tea brought in,” Althea said. She should have thought to tell Jewel to fetch it.

  “Don’t go to the trouble. I won’t be staying that long.” The woman contained a calmness, a gentleness, that seemed too soft for this world. She tilted her head toward the sofa. “Please, sit.”

  When a duchess asked, you did it, even when you didn’t want to. Althea sat. “How may I be of service, Duchess?”

  “You may come to our ball tomorrow evening.”

  Her stomach dropped to her toes; her fingers knotted in her lap. “I’m not sure how much you know about my relationship with Benedict—”

  “Oh, I suspect I know nearly everything, Miss Stanwick. Our son spoke about you with a great deal of fondness while we were in Scotland.”

  “Then you know my father is a traitor.” She was expecting her not to know, to see shock make its way over her face.

  “I do, yes. He was involved in a plot to see the Queen murdered as I’m given to understand.”

  Her fingers were going numb. “As a result, you know I am not welcomed in Society. If I attend, it will be quite awkward, not only for me but for you and, more important, for Benedict. I will receive cuts direct. People will turn their backs. They will whisper ugly things about me, my father, you, Benedict. They’ll wonder why you invited the daughter of a man who was hanged for being a traitor, a man whose children were denied their birthright. Your standing could suffer. It won’t at all assist Benedict in finding a proper wife, one who will be proud to be at his side, who will love him. I’ve tried to explain all this to him, to make him see, but he hasn’t been part of the aristocracy long enough to know how this will play out. He simply doesn’t understand.”

  “But you do. You understand perfectly. Have the courage to show him. Only then will he truly understand the sacrifices that must be made.”

  Her entire body, mind, and soul rebelled at the notion. The humiliation she would suffer, the shame, the chill that would settle in her bones. It had nearly killed her before. The months since had toughened her, but was it enough to withstand the bludgeoning she would receive?

  The duchess clasped Althea’s hands. “If you truly love my son, you must attend the ball. You must force him to see the repercussions of your presence. Otherwise, I fear he will cling to the possibility of having you, and will never seek out another, will never know happiness. I love him far too much not to do what is best for him. I am in this wheelchair because of my love for him and his father, and yet I have never regretted a day of it. Knowing what I would suffer, I would do it all again in a heartbeat. How much do you truly love my son, Miss Stanwick? What would you endure to ensure his future happiness?”

  Chapter 30

  As the coach the duchess had sent for her made its way hastily through the streets, Althea fought her nerves, strived for calm. She’d almost instructed the driver to return to the duke’s residence without her, but eventually, she’d climbed inside.

  She had considered the green gown, but in the end went with the red. To ensure Benedict understood fully all the ramifications of her presence, she had to be as visible as possible. In a small secret pocket, she’d slipped the match safe he’d given her because she knew on the journey home, which would begin shortly after she arrived, she would need the reminder that even in darkness she could find light.

  Hester had fixed her hair into an elaborate coiffure, using the pearl combs Althea had purchased that afternoon. Thanks to Benedict’s generosity, she could indulge herself every now and then. She’d also purchased a pearl necklace and earbobs. If she was going to face the ghosts of her past, she intended to do it with all the dignity and aplomb she could muster. She had no intention of letting them see how harsh they’d made her life.

  She’d deliberately delayed her arrival an hour to ensure a more full ballroom, even though it meant a greater humiliation—more backs turned, more cuts.

  But his eventual happiness was paramount, and he couldn’t have it if he was lonely, if he didn’t take a wife. She didn’t want to consider how deeply the lacerations to her heart would be when she read of his betroth
al in the newspaper. She would survive it.

  The coach slowed, turned down a drive, and slowed even further as other vehicles made their way to the front of the residence where steps led into the massive manor. People were not lingering about, thank goodness, so she might make it inside without too many cuts directed her way.

  She did notice one man not heading for the steps but standing only a little bit back from the curb. People were giving him a wide berth, not that she blamed them. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he greeted no one. Simply waited.

  The coach finally came to a complete stop. A footman stepped forward, opened the door, and handed her down. Her feet had barely hit the brick when Aiden Trewlove was standing before her, having left the spot that it had appeared he was guarding. He offered his hand.

  “Beast wasn’t certain you’d show. He asked me to escort you in if you did.”

  She placed her hand in his. “You were waiting for me, not knowing if I’d make an appearance?”

  Tucking her hand in the crook of his elbow, he began leading her toward the entrance. “He didn’t want you to have to go in alone, and he’s occupied being introduced to all the toffs. I’m sure he’d have rather been out here. Until tonight, he’s never been to one of these things.”

  She hadn’t been able to remember seeing him at a ball, but had thought that perhaps she’d simply overlooked him, although he was impossible not to see. “He’s never been to a ball, ever?”

  “No. Avoided them like the plague. No ball, no dinner, no fancy affair.”

  An earl and countess she knew were about to go through the doorway. It was obvious the countess caught sight of her. Her eyes widened just before the woman wrinkled her nose as though she’d smelled something foul and hurried into the manor.

  As far as cuts direct went, it wasn’t one of the worst. At the moment she was less concerned with how people were treating her and more concerned with how they were treating Benedict. A ball, especially one that it appeared most of London would be attending, could be overwhelming at the best of times. She’d been prepared for her first ball and still had found it unsettling as she’d struggled to find people she knew, to become comfortable with all the strangers she’d yet to meet. Almost everyone in attendance, except for his family, would be strangers.

  And here was his brother, someone he truly needed inside that room, showing him a familiar face, a mischievous grin, helping to put him at ease with his surroundings.

  Although the evening was cool, she hadn’t bothered with a wrap so had nothing to leave with the waiting footman as they crossed the threshold into the grand and beautiful foyer. Another footman was directing people down a hallway that no doubt led to the ballroom.

  But Aiden didn’t follow the others. He directed her toward the sweeping staircase. At the bottom, standing about, was every other Trewlove sibling and their spouses. Benedict was alone in there, facing all these people for the first time. She was horrified by the realization.

  Gillie smiled at her. “You came.”

  “Why aren’t you all in the ballroom?”

  “Because Beast asked us to wait out here for you.”

  Idiot man. He truly didn’t understand what it was like to circulate through the aristocracy, how hard it would be if he knew no one else in the room. Although his parents would be with him, the people he truly needed were out here—waiting for her.

  “Let’s go, shall we?” Mick asked.

  Yes, quickly. She needed to get them into the ballroom, so they could be there for him and demonstrate their support for him.

  Selena approached, and Aiden released his hold on Althea in order to tuck his wife in close.

  “Lead the way,” Aiden said to Althea, “and know we’re here if you need us.”

  Only she didn’t need them watching out for her. She needed them standing at Benedict’s back. She needed him to know he wasn’t alone.

  While his siblings had attended balls, even hosted a couple, Beast had managed to avoid them. He’d never felt as though he belonged. His heritage said that he did, yet still he felt out of place, like a sprawling weed in a flower garden. He kept expecting someone to come along, pluck him out, and send him on his way.

  He stood beside his parents, greeting the guests who were announced and ambled down the stairs. Fancy had gone through something similar the year before when she’d been introduced into Society and had advised him not to keep count of the introductions because it would only make the night seem longer.

  What made it seem longer was the manner in which all the young ladies gazed at him as though he was a newly discovered dessert they were looking forward to sampling. He met pretty ladies, plain ones, short ones, tall ones. Some appeared bolder than others. Some shyer. He was certain many of them were delightful.

  But none snagged his attention the way Thea had when he’d first laid eyes on her.

  He’d promised himself he wouldn’t think about her tonight. He’d kept the promise for all of two minutes. He wasn’t certain how much longer he could live with the hope that she might show. That her presence would make this night bearable.

  They were more than an hour in, and the ballroom packed with the glamorous, the elegant, and the arrogant. It seemed the duke and duchess were favorites among the ton. Which he fully understood. Even if they weren’t his parents, he’d have liked them. They were kind, generous, and thoughtful. Once he’d wondered how different he might be if he’d been raised by them, but it was pointless to speculate. He couldn’t imagine a life any better than the one he’d had, in spite of its hardships. His life would have been absent his brothers and sisters and his mum. He wouldn’t have wanted that.

  “Miss Althea Stanwick!” The majordomo’s booming voice rang out, and it was like the pealing of a thousand bells at Christmas.

  She’d come. His heart soared, everything within him came alive, even as he told himself that her presence made no difference, that she would not marry him. That tonight might be the last time she was in his life.

  She stood at the top of the stairs in the red gown that flattered her, when she needed no flattery. Elegantly, with his siblings and their spouses forming a phalanx behind her—he’d never loved them more—she began descending. He wanted to take her to his bedchamber and peel that gown off her. He wanted to kiss every inch of her, make love to her until dawn. Maybe then he could forget her. Give me one more night, Thea. We’ll make it last.

  Except he didn’t want only one more night. He didn’t want to forget her.

  He turned to his parents. “I love you both, but this is not my world.”

  She was his world.

  His father simply gave him a stoic, brisk nod—and in that action Beast saw himself as a boy holding firm and strong when he’d been teased or ridiculed for things not his fault: his bastardy, his height, his bulk, his imperfections.

  His mother took his gloved hand, squeezed it, pressed it to her lips, and looked at him through luminous eyes filled with so much love, a powerful love, a love strong enough to place her child, a product of her heart, into another’s keeping, and she would do it again, bearing the burden of it without remorse or grief because protecting him, keeping him safe, was more important to her than anything she might suffer as a result.

  And he realized he might have inherited none of his features from her, but he had inherited her heart.

  While they’d told him he was their son, and he’d taken them at their word, believed them, it wasn’t until that moment that he truly felt he was their son.

  What had she told him on that dreary rainy afternoon when missing Althea had brought him such sadness and loneliness? Never apologize to your mother for being who you are.

  Who was he? He finally knew. He was a man who would find a way to honor their love and his birthright, but he would do it following the dictates of his heart, not Society.

  He became aware of dancers stopping, people murmuring. He spotted Chadbourne making his way to the stairs. He recognized a ma
n intent on revenge when he spotted him, a man who hadn’t liked being bested at cards. Beast hadn’t looked at the guest list, hadn’t known who’d been invited until they arrived. He’d have struck this bloke’s name right off the list. “Please, excuse me,” he said to his parents.

  His long strides soon carried him to Chadbourne’s side. “Turn your back on her, and I’ll snap your weak little spine in two.” He didn’t bother to moderate his voice, to keep his temper from flaring.

  “You cannot allow her to fully descend these stairs. You cannot welcome her.”

  “I can and I will. What I cannot do is allow you to remain so much as one minute longer. So either carry yourself out of here or I shall take great pleasure in dragging you out.”

  The earl sneered at him. “You didn’t grow up in Society. You don’t understand its rules.”

  “Thank God.”

  “When other lords and ladies, dukes, duchesses, earls, viscounts, turn their backs on her—”

  He didn’t give him time to finish what was likely to ramble into an obnoxious question. “I will not tolerate anyone being unkind to her.”

  People had come closer and he wondered if they’d done so with the same purpose as Chadbourne. If so, a lot of dragging out of the room was going to happen, but he had three brothers and two brothers-by-marriage descending those stairs who would help him accomplish it. Aware of murmurings, he had the distinct impression his words were being repeated, repeated, repeated so they reached the farthest corners of the room.

  “Go. Now,” he said to Chadbourne. “And if you say one word to her to make her doubt her welcome here, you’ll feel the weight of my fist against your jaw so fast you’ll swear I have the ability to fly.”

  The man’s glare wouldn’t frighten a child. He turned. “Jocelyn, we’re leaving.”

  “But it’s a ball. I want to dance. Won’t you send the carriage back for me?”