And in that moment, Bea realized something she did not like at all.
Nicholas Archer could be dangerous in more ways than one.
Soon, Lord Hillary bustled over, delight shining in his eyes.“Magnificent, Lady Beatrix,” he whispered, as if she were an actor who’d just nailed her cue.“Absolutely magnificent.Langford has been insufferable for weeks.I’m tempted to invite you every week.You certainly provide some much-needed interest.”
Bea managed a tight smile.“How generous.I should like that, my lord.”
Nicholas’s hand brushed her elbow—guiding, careful.They stepped away before Nicholas whispered, “We should go before Hillary tries to put you on a dais.”
Bea’s pulse flickered again.“Are you trying to rescue me again?”
Nicholas leaned in, his mouth near her ear.“Never,” he murmured.
Her stomach flipped traitorously.
Bea straightened, regaining her composure with effort.“Very well.Let’s go.”
Nicholas’s eyes warmed, and for the briefest second she saw something in him she hadn’t expected to find.
Not a rake’s triumph.
Not a politician’s calculation.
Something steadier.Something…kind.
He offered his arm again.
Bea took it.
And as they walked out of Hillary House—past the watching faces, the whispering mouths, the little sparks of curiosity her words had ignited—she realized she was seeing Nicholas in a way she hadn’t allowed herself to see him before.
Not as an opponent.
Not as a seducer.
But as a man who, when it mattered, had stood beside her.Who had been an ally.
The coach waited at the curb.
Nicholas helped her in, his hand warm at her waist—brief, proper, maddeningly decent.
Bea settled onto the seat, trying to gather her thoughts, trying to pull herself back into the armor she wore so well.
Nicholas climbed in after her and shut the door.
For a beat, the enclosed space felt different than it had earlier.Not only charged.Not only dangerous.Intimate in a new way.
Nicholas watched her as the carriage lurched forward.His gaze dropped to her mouth, then lifted again.“You were brilliant in there.”
The simple sincerity of it hit her harder than any compliment had the right to.
Bea looked away quickly, as if the window might save her.“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t…” She gestured vaguely, frustrated by the flutter in her chest.“Say things that sound like you mean them.”
Nicholas’s voice turned softer.“What if I do mean them?”
