Any other lady and he would have inferred from such a comment that Bethany had pined after him. But this wasn’t just some chit. This was his wife now.
Chase dusted dried leaves from the broken cigar off his trousers and rose. “Any suggestions?” he asked no one in particular. Did she prefer chocolates? A particular type of flower?
“The ring was an excellent touch.” Greys flicked at a nonexistent piece of lint on his sleeve.
“You’ll come up with something.” Mantis met his gaze. “From what I hear, one of the requirements of being a rake requires a particularly useful arsenal of talents.”
Chase exhaled. His reputation wasn’t one he’d ever sought—although, it had come in handy. “You will all be there?”
“We will,” Blackheart answered. At Chase’s raised brows, he added, “My… er… employer has given me the evening off.”
Chase nodded. The more titles backing them, the better. When he and Bethany were given the cut by the other guests, at least they’d have the support of a duke, a marquess, and a viscount as well as Lord and Lady Ravensdale. It just might work.
He tossed the remains of his cigar into a nearby bin.
“Go home, Chase.” Blackheart may be playing the part of a butler, but he’d not once ceased to come across sounding like the duke that he was.
Chapter 14
Starting Over
Having spent two hours at Madam Chantal’s and then another at the milliner’s, the three ladies returned to Byrde House where Felicity’s favorite stylist attended to Bethany’s hair. When the flamboyant gentleman was finished cutting and combing and twisting, Bethany had finally been left alone with explicit instructions to rest.
“Don’t allow anyone to browbeat you. Stand up straight. Stare down your nose at them if you have to,” her younger sister advised in an ironic twist of circumstances. “Absolutely do not allow anyone to make you cry and for heaven’s sake, stop looking so disapproving.”
D-i-s-a-p-p-r-o-v-i-n-g. The blasted letter count required counting with more than both of her hands. Twelve letters. It was a horrid word.
How was she expected to rest? To sleep before one of the most important evenings of her life?
In the silence of their departure, she pinched her lips and stared at her reflection. When a knock sounded at the door from the antechamber, she intentionally softened them. For the moment, anyhow.
Knowing it would be Chase launched a bundle of conflicting emotions. Excitement, embarrassment, regret… and stupid, stupid, joy. “Come in.” She spun around on the bench.
Seeing his face… Ah, yes. Joy.
His poor eye looked even worse!
“I returned home earlier but you were out.” One corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile.
They were supposed to be starting over, not blaming one another, but he looked as uncomfortable in her company as ever. “How’s the head?”
Bethany reached up a hand to dab at the back of her hair. “No worse than your eye, I’ll imagine.”
He grimaced but strolled in, his presence filling the room and squeezing some of the air out of her lungs. He snagged a chair from the corner and drew it over to where she sat.
After dropping onto it, he casually clasped his hands between his knees and leaned forward, staring at her earnestly.
He seemed… concerned.
“Are you well enough to attend tonight? I know everyone and their dog insists we’ve no choice in the matter, but if you can’t do it, we’ll figure something else out.”
It was what she wanted to hear. She was terrified. But also, she didn’t want to be shunned forever.
“I don’t want to appear disapproving.” Her thoughts erupted from her mouth. She was afraid that if she couldn’t make the right impression, their appearance at the ball might do them more harm than good. But she had Tabetha’s future to consider—not only her own. And regardless of what her sister had said about returning to the country, Bethany knew better.
Tabetha was counting on her to make this right.
Chase tilted his head and then nodded slowly, almost as though he understood all that she was saying. “Those cursed nerves.”
