Again, Beau found himself frozen in place, struggling for control. What was it about tiny women and out-sized personalities? He stared down at the squared-off, suspiciously blond woman who had tormented him as a youth and adult. Fortunately, he had gained far too much experience in subterfuge to let her distract him.
“This may come as a shock to you, aunt,” he said, his voice deceptively lazy, “but you have no say in who I bring across the threshold of my home.”
He didn't even mention the fact that her relationship to the family she was so protective of was only by marriage. That would just provoke another tantrum and further recriminations from her husband when he showed up to support her.
Beau might as well have turned the old battle-axe to stone, which might be the only thing saving Pip's life. He couldn't remember the last time he had surprised his aunt into silence.
Flashing her a dry smile, he stepped past. “Now, if you don't mind, I need to collect my fiancée. We have an announcement to make.”
He imagined his aunt thought he would be crushed by the fact that she pulled her puce skirts away from him as he passed, but in fact, he wasn't. The smile he had donned to annoy her just grew.
“Unfeeling boy,” she snapped.
“Indeed, I must be,” he said, not bothering to stop. “But if that bothers you, feel free to leave Delamere and return to your own home.”
He could hear her sputtering behind him, which only made his smile grow. Either way, he realized, he won. Either his marriage would finally dislodged his aunt and uncle from Delamere, or his aunt would bedevil Pip into dribbling madness. Suddenly, the future seemed a bit less bleak.
His improved mood lasted until he stepped into the ballroom to be met by sudden, dead silence. In a blink, the buzzing started, accompanied by smiles, winks, and the shaking of more proper heads. The word was out, then. All that was left was to collect Pip and make the deuced announcement, just as she wanted.
Except Pip wasn't in the room. Instead, the duchess approached, her expression betraying nothing.
“I understand we are to congratulate you and our dear Pip,” she murmured, setting her hand atop his arm and turning him back toward the corridor.
“Where is she?” he growled.
He got quite a healthy pinch for that solecism. “She has retired briefly with my Elizabeth to freshen up before we call you both forward. I know that you, too, would like to make sure you show the proper enthusiasm for your announcement. Would you need a moment?”
He pulled in a breath, furious as much at himself for being blindsided as with Pip for accomplishing it. Even more furious that his body still threatened to betray his reaction to that damnable kiss. God, and it had to be in front of Pamela of all people.
And here he’d believed his mission here had been accomplished.
“Viscount Drummond?”
Startled, he forced a smile for the duchess. “My apologies, Your Grace. I was merely planning.”
She smiled back, as placidly as if they discussed seating arrangements. “Of course. I have the address of the Knight family lawyers who will be able to negotiate the contracts, and of course, her father's direction in St. Petersburg. I am certain you will wish to contact him.”
This time Beau’s smile was genuine. “An excellent idea, your grace.”
Better than excellent. He could delay any action as long as he wanted, blaming the mails to Russia. Given a few weeks, he and Pip could simply decide they didn't suit. And in the meantime, he could get the plans to his superiors.
“And now,” the duchess said with another pat, “I imagine the drinks bar in the small saloon might be a nice stop to make while our dear Pip prepares.”
Giving the duchess's hand a quick salute, he strode off to find some comfort. Dutch courage.
* * *
His nemesis was havingtroubles of her own.
She might have escaped the consequences of her impulsive act if she could have kept her countenance better. But when she had stalked out of the library, it had been right into Lizzie's mother. And she could tell with one look that the duchess had already heard the news.
“I won't,” Pip insisted, red-faced. “That ungrateful cur can whistle his engagement down the wind as far as I'm concerned.”
Without a word Pip found herself hustled up into her bedroom to be met by her lady's maid and Lizzie, both of whom were wringing their hands.
Pip was not surprised at all that it was her maid who took the first shot.
Soft brown hands on generous hips, Joyful Matthews turned her great dark eyes on her. “Ya gone and done it now, missy.”
