And she was awake, completely exasperated with herself.
Why in the world had she called himmy love?
It was the term of endearment they used in her family.Her most intimate form of address.
And she had gone and used it with Thomas Balfour, the Marquess of Leith, the man who waspayingher to be his courtesan for two weeks.
He didnotwant to be called her love.What they were doing had nothing to do with love.She had told the man himself that she did not believe she could fall in love!And he had made clear he felt the same.
Clearly, the frantic pace at which they were tupping was addling her mind.She needed to regain her equilibrium.
So she slunk out from under his arm and returned to her chamber.
When Beatrice awoke the next morning, it was not the Marquess of Leith who stood over her bed.
“Bea, I am so sorry!”Sally exclaimed, throwing herself down on her counterpane.“I do not know what came over me.I had no notion that champagne could taste so fine.”
Through her own haze, it took Beatrice a moment to remember Sally’s calamity from the night before.
“You must be careful with the champagne, Sal.And with Charles.I believe he admires you.”
“He is handsome, I will say.”
“Sally!What about Fred Larkin?”
“Does being engaged to one man make me completely insensible of another?I never would have thought you’d countenance such prudery, Bea.”
She shook her head at her sister’s silliness.“You will feel badly if he falls in love with you.”
“I will be careful.I promise,” Sally said.“Now you must dress.Lord Leith wants to take you to Gunter’s.”
Her heart seized at the mention of the man.God, she hoped she would be able to face him after her foolishness.But, as Sally helped her dress, she reasoned that he would understand.He had been in quite a passion as well.He had thanked her after their last coupling, as if she hadn’t come twice from the effort herself.
Once she was dressed in another of her new Warburton gowns, a pink silk appropriate for daywear, she strode into the living room, attempting to beat down her trepidation.
There, he sat on the sofa, doing nothing—it appeared—but waiting for her.
“Sally informs me that we are going to Gunter’s.”
“Your sister is correct,” he said, standing, a small smile playing on his lips.“I must keep up my end of the bargain.Two weeks is not so long a time—and I’ve only taken you on two public outings.”
She supposed he was right.They were only on the fourth day of their arrangement, and she had demanded seven.But his return to the arrangement, after the fierce passion of the night before, deflated her.It even stung a bit.Although she knew it was what she technically wanted.
Perhaps, he was attempting to remind her of their agreement.After her unbecoming exuberance.
“Yes, we wouldn’t want you to be derelict,” she said, briskly.
“Come, then,” he said, offering her his arm.He looked her full in the face as she accepted it.To her surprise, where she had expected to see reserve, she saw openness.He had never looked, to her eye, more good-humored.
When they were in the carriage and clattering along the street, she turned to him.
“Why Gunter’s?”
“Every lady likes Gunter’s.It’s the height of fashion.And very public.We will eat our ices in the carriage and anyone who managed to miss your presence by my side at the opera the other night will know your name by this evening.”
She tried to feel grateful.He was being helpful.Thoughtful, even.
When they arrived at Gunter’s, the coachman and his assistant situated the vehicle outside the shop.Then, to her surprise, the coachman and his assistant began to fuss with the side of the vehicle.
