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Aunt Agnes walked to the side table and poured Beatrice a glass of watered wine. “Well, what about that young gentleman?” She snapped her fingers together a couple of times, her face a grimace of concentration. “Mr. Lansdowne? No, not the foul marquess, the younger man. Can’t he marry you?”

Taking a glass into her hand, Beatrice stared at her aunt in confusion. “What gentleman?”

Aunt Agnes patted Beatrice on her arm and settled across from her. “You know who I am talking about. Tall, gorgeous, young.” As Beatrice shook her head, Aunt Agnes continued, “The one you danced with last night.”

“I danced with a few gentlemen last night, Aunt.”

“The one who came to visit you a few days ago and also sneaked into our house a few nights ago,” she said meaningfully.

Beatrice sputtered the drink she just sipped and dissolved into a coughing fit.

Aunt Agnes rolled her eyes, stood, and patted Beatrice on her back. “Didn’t think I knew about that, did you?”

Beatrice pulled out her handkerchief and wiped her face and bodice. “How did you know about that?” Her voice was high and screeching.

Aunt Agnes waved a hand as she settled back into her chair. “I know a lot more than you think. I might be old, but I am neither blind nor deaf.”

“Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you protest?” Beatrice’s head started hurting, and her cheeks burned in embarrassment.

Aunt Agnes turned toward the still-open door of the drawing room, and her eyes narrowed. “That man is the reason why.”

Beatrice looked back at the open door, and her stomach churned. “Lansdowne?”

Aunt Agnes nodded. “I don’t know why you ever agreed to marry him. I cannot understand that. But I can understand you wanting to experience life before you marry that withered old monster. And I shall do everything in my power to help you do just that. Or perhaps even more.”

Beatrice leaned toward her aunt. “More?”

She nodded. “That young gentleman who sneaked into our house that night… He is unmarried, isn’t he?”

Beatrice licked her suddenly dry lips. “He is.”

“Then perhaps you can… entice him to marry you.”

“Entice him?” Beatrice took a sip, and this time, Aunt Agnes gave her the courtesy of waiting for her to swallow before shocking her more.

“Trick him.”

A breath caught in Beatrice’s throat. And no, not because she thought it was a despicable idea—though it was. But because she had been entertaining the same thought ever since she ran into Adam at Hades’ Hell. Perhaps even before that. “But isn’t this wrong? I thought you’d say that it’s immoral and—”

Aunt Agnes waved a dismissive hand. “Immoral is forcing women to depend on men for their safety and comfort. Immoral is selling your beloved daughter to the highest bidder. Now, I love my brother, but he is a fool.”

Beatrice shook her head. “Papa didn’t choose this for me, I did.”

“And he stood idly by, allowing this atrocity to happen. He should have never let you go through with it. He should have taken you home and damned the consequences.”

Beatrice stood and started pacing. “When Viscount Gage decided to marry another, if I had no prospects, I would have been ruined. And my sisters would be ruined with me.”

“Pshaw!” Aunt Agnes straightened in her seat. “You are a clever girl. You could have found work. So could your sisters. That viscount fellow could have helped you. No, your father was just happy that the old, lecherous, but rich man took you off his hands. Helped him clear his debts. Men have tried and tried and tried to make us powerless in this world. But we are more powerful than they know.”

Beatrice looked at her still-shaking hands. She doubted she had any power at that moment. Aunt Agnes covered Beatrice’s hand with hers, stilling the shaking. “I promise you, what we lack in brute force, we make up for in pure wits and wiles.”

Beatrice shook her head. “I have no wiles.”

“But you do have wits,” Aunt Agnes countered. “So, you go in there, and you grab your happiness whichever way you can. Because no one is going to hand it to you on a silver platter. No one has ever handed us women anything in this world. We have to claw it out.”

“But Adam—”

“His name is Adam?” Aunt Agnes had a peculiar look in her eyes.