A woman who disagreed with the things she knew could do a great deal of damage with the right ear at her disposal.
Nicholas’s mouth tightened.
It did not help that Bea had been entirely too composed last night after they left Hillary House—after the shock, after the attention, after she’d tasted what it was like to say what she chose.
She’d seemed…satisfied.
As if she’d gotten something she’d wanted.
Nicholas folded the paper back slowly.Then he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk.He looked again at the folded newspaper, as if he could see through the pages to the ink beneath.
If Lady Beatrix was feeding information to B.Adroit, it meant she was even more dangerous than he’d assumed.
Which, of course, made her even more interesting.
Nicholas’s mouth curved faintly.
He wasn’t a fool.He knew exactly what he was doing with Bea.
Winston wanted a courtship.Society wanted a story.Nicholas’s father wanted obedience and power, and a neat alliance tied up with ribbon.
But Nicholas wanted a wife.A wife who would challenge him.One who would make him think.Exactly the way Bea had.
And he didn’t want just any wife.He wanted Bea.But he wanted her to want him.Agreeing to the forced courtship merely bought him time.It gave him access.It gave him proximity.
And proximity, with a woman like Bea, was an advantage.
Last night, he’d used that advantage to draw her into the middle of a salon and let her set a man on fire with words.
He’d also used it to convince her to kiss him in a coach.
Both had been satisfying.
Nicholas stood, crossing to the window.Outside, the square was brightening with morning.Carriages rattled past.A pair of boys chased one another with sticks, shouting as if they owned the world.
Nicholas watched them without seeing them.
He was thinking about Bea.
He was thinking about the way she’d looked when she spoke—like someone finally permitted to take up space.
He was thinking about the way she’d looked when he’d teased her—like someone annoyed to discover she enjoyed it.
He was thinking about the way she might look the next time he leaned in close and murmured something improper just to watch her pretend she didn’t like it.
He was also thinking—because he was not an idiot—about what she might be hiding.
Nicholas turned back to his desk and rang the bell.
Godwin appeared.
“Have the carriage readied,” Nicholas said.“In an hour.”
Godwin bowed.“Very good, my lord.Shall I inform the Duke of Winston?—”
“No.”Nicholas’s gaze sharpened.“Not yet.I’m merely going for a ride.”
Godwin’s brow lifted a fraction, though his face remained appropriately blank.“A ride, my lord.”
