But Beatrix was trapped outside herself and unable to will her mouth to move.
“A nod will do.”
And, somehow, she managed to nod what passed for ayes.
More gasps and murmurings followed, as the silence broke and the small crowd rushed forward to offer their slightly confused congratulations to the happy and unexpected couple.
And that was theirlittle sensationenacted.
Though, as Beatrix accepted and mutely endured the confounded congratulations and lifted eyebrows, she couldn’t be sure of something.
That the kiss had been purely for the stage.
It was that swipe of her tongue across his bottom lip…
She still tasted him—sweet and smoky, like whiskey.
She was the only person in this room who knew the taste of Lord Devil.
The unique sensation of being watched skittered across her skin and had her scanning the crowd to locate the source—a lady.
The Countess of Bridgewater.
But the countess’s gaze didn’t linger. It had already shifted toward…
Deverill.
She wasn’t merely or idly observing him as one might do in the circumstances, but rather staring.
As for Deverill, he was meeting the countess’s gaze—unflinchingly.
Deverill and the Countess of Bridgewater…
Those two knew each other…
Well.
Intimately?
Again, a certainty crept through Beatrix. Deverill wasn’t being transparent about his motivations for this pretend engagement. It wasn’t about business interests or social connections or future progeny.
It was about—possibly…probably—the Countess of Bridgewater.
Beatrix was being used in a game different from the one he’d claimed.
Which was…
All right.
For she, too, had her own motives in play—and a future to secure.
As quickly as it had descended, the moment lifted and there was no more room in her whirring mind for thought as she was swept along in a tide of congratulations and questions she couldn’t answer.Would it be a spring wedding?…Or an autumn wedding?…Or a special license wedding?She understood what the last question meant—was she in need of a hasty wedding that couldn’t wait nine months?
Fortunately, Deverill kept his head about him as he stated that his beloved betrothed—laying it on a bit thick, there—was understandably overwhelmed by events and the two of them would be leaving the musicale posthaste.
Beatrix took their early exit for a bit of nimble strategy on Deverill’s part—leave society with a juicy morsel of gossip and let them turn it into a seven-course meal overnight. News of theirlittle sensationwould be everywhere by dawn.
Once they were settled inside his coach-and-four, him seated across the footwell, they remained silent for the short drive to Little Stanhope Street. Beatrix directed her gaze out the window and watched the shadows of Mayfair roll past. As they approached her townhouse, he gave three hard raps on the carriage ceiling, and it slowed to a smooth stop.
