Ah.
Nicholas said nothing, but one brow might have lifted slightly.
Winston went on.“I informed Beatrix that it is high time she married.”
A pause.No fanfare.No request.Simply a fact presented with the sort of confidence only dukes and madmen managed.
Nicholas set down his glass with deliberate care.“Indeed.”
“She’s of an age.And because she’s proven must stubborn, I must step in.She’ll marry.You, if you’ll still have her.”
This time Nicholas’s brow definitely lifted.“May I ask why you’ve suddenly decided this is urgent?”
Winston tugged at his lapel.He always did so when he was uncomfortable.Which was extremely rare.“It’s come to our attention that she is becoming the object of gossip.”
Nicholas refrained from pointing out Lady Beatrix’s marital plans had been the subject of gossip for years.Was it possible her parents hadn’t heard the rumors until now?Perhaps, but unlikely.
“I see,” he replied simply.
Winston gave Nicholas a dry once-over.“My wife assures me Beatrix tolerates you.”
Nicholas’s mouth quirked.“High praise.”
“Don’t let it go to your head.”The duke moved to the nearest chair and sat, the casual assumption of authority wafting off him like cigar smoke.The man truly thought he was in charge of everything.He had no clue that Nicholas would never marry his daughter or anyone else’s daughter unlesshewanted to.It was only convenient that what Nicholas wanted and what Winston wanted just happened to be the same thing.
Nicholas leaned one hip against the desk.“And how did Lady Beatrix receive this…news?”
Winston waved a hand dismissively.“She has no choice in the matter.Her time of frolic is over.”
Nicholas exhaled once through his nose, slow and controlled.“She’s not a woman easily cornered.”
“She is a girl whose father has run out of patience.”Winston leveled him with a stare.“Youarestill interested, I assume?”
Nicholas held the older man’s gaze.“I am.”
The duke inclined his head.“Good.I’ve already told her to expect you tomorrow afternoon.Take her riding in the park.Be seen.Do your part.”
With that, Winston rose, tugged once at the hem of his coat, and made for the door.
“Your Grace,” Nicholas said before the duke could exit.“If I may ask—what did Lady Beatrix say when you told her?”
Winston’s expression didn’t shift, but something in his eyes sharpened.“I’d be lying if I told you she was pleased with the arrangement.She has been given her freedom for far too long.But if there’s anyone I trust to bring her around to the idea of marriage, it’s you, Vanover.”
Then he was gone, the thud of the door behind him a final, absolute sound.
Nicholas stood still for a long moment after the duke departed, the silence folding around him like a closing fist.He lifted his glass, watching the brandy catch the lamplight, his mind spinning, not with doubt…but with the inevitable chaos to come.
Lady Beatrix was not a woman who accepted commands.Certainly not from her father.And most definitely not from him.
If Winston believed she would simply acquiesce, he was mad.And if Nicholas believed she would accompany him to the park tomorrow with docile agreement,hewas madder still.
He tipped the glass to his lips and let the burn settle.Then he exhaled a low, rueful laugh.
“Hell,” he muttered, rubbing a hand across his jaw.“She’s going to have her back up.”
Lady Beatrix would not meet this undefended.No—she would arm herself.She would gather allies.She would assemble her inner circle, sharpen her intellect, and construct a plan as intricate and devastating as a military campaign.By the time she was done, he’d be lucky to survive the opening volley.
He set down the glass, straightened, and squared his shoulders.
If Lady Beatrix Winslow was preparing for war…
He had best be ready to meet her on the battlefield.
And God help him.He was looking forward to it.
