Chapter 17

Richard blinked. "What do you mean, you will not?""I mean, I will not simper. I will not laugh at jokes that are not funny. I will not pretend to be a porcelain doll." Beatrice pushed her plate away and stood up. "If the Duke of Ashborne wanted a sycophant, he had a ballroom full of them to choose from. If he calls on me, he will get me. Nothing more, nothing less.""You are throwing away the greatest opportunity this family has had in a century!" Richard shouted, his face turning purple. "You will ruin this with your... your stubborn, spinsterish pride!""My pride, Richard, is the only thing I actually own," Beatrice shot back, her voice deadly calm. She did not raise her volume, but the absolute finality in her tone made her brother snap his mouth shut. "You control the estate. You control my dowry. You control where I live. But you do not control my character."She turned and walked out of the dining room, ignoring Louisa's anxious, wide-eyed stare from the doorway.Beatrice needed air; she needed quiet.Ten minutes later, dressed in a plain brown walking habit and a sturdy bonnet, she slipped out the back door of the townhouse. She walked quickly, avoiding the main thoroughfares where carriages were already beginning their morning rounds of leaving calling cards. She headed toward a small, relatively obscure park a few streets over. It was not fashionable: there were no manicured gravel paths or ornamental lakes, just ancient, gnarled oak trees and patches of wild, untamed grass.The morning air was biting, carrying the sharp scent of an impending rainstorm. Beatrice breathed it in deeply, feeling the cold air clear the suffocating fog of her brother's ambition from her lungs. She walked for twenty minutes, letting her mind go blank. She refused to think about Leopold's dark eyes; she refused to think about the absolute certainty in his voice when he said her name."You walk exactly like you dance."Beatrice froze. She turned around.Stepping out from the shadow of a massive oak tree was Leopold. He was not wearing the severe evening clothes of the night before; he wore a heavy riding coat of dark blue wool, tall boots splashed with mud, and a loosely tied cravat. He looked rougher, more dangerous, and entirely out of place in the small London park."Do you make a habit of stalking women in public parks, Your Grace?" Beatrice asked, keeping her voice steady despite the sudden, violent racing of her heart."Only when they flee their own homes at nine in the morning," Leopold replied, closing the distance between them. He stopped a respectful few feet away. "Your footman was easily bribed. He mentioned you favor this square when you wish to avoid your brother."Beatrice scowled. "Remind me to dismiss him.""Don't. He was merely looking out for his livelihood; he knows I could buy this entire street if I wished." Leopold shoved his bare hands deep into the pockets of his coat. He looked exhausted; the shadows under his eyes were prominent in the harsh daylight.

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