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“Lady Regina has taken an interest in Miss Valentine,” he said slowly.
“You could say that. Your sister offered Miss Valentine a place in your carriage. But unfortunately, the lady’s skirts are drenched in water, and she needs to leave before the end of the ball.”
Drenched in water?
“Miss Valentine cannot return to the dance floor,” Lady Sheffield added.
The last piece of the puzzle fell into place with a satisfying click.
Regina had tossed water at Beatrice; he’d stake his estate on it. His sister’s propensity to throw things had meant that no governess had endured their house for more than a few weeks, no matter what salary his father offered.
“One of my maids and a groom will escort her home, and then return in your carriage,” Lady Sheffield was saying. “Miss Valentine is in the library. A footman will inform you when your carriage arrives, and I’d be grateful if you would escort her through the side door.”
“Of course,” Jonah said.
“Sometimes a girl just isn’t suited for London society. She’ll make someone a fine wife in the country.”
Jonah pictured curvy Beatrice next to a tobacco-chewing farmer and didn’t like it. She should be in ballrooms, her eyes filled with laughter, dancing like a feather.
“I don’t believe she belongs in the country.”
“With a vicar,” Lady Paget said, with conviction. “Or a squire.”
He was hardly an authority on young ladies. Perhaps Beatrice would love being immured in the country. If so, he had a big, rambling house she could fill with children. That he could see.
In fact, it was unnerving how easily he could imagine her bending over and holding out her arms so that a child—a little girl every bit as beautiful as she—could run into them.
“One of the maids will fetch a domino cloak for Miss Valentine to wear on the way home,” Lady Paget continued. “Please remain here, Your Grace. You certainly don’t want to be accidentally compromised by being found in the library with her.”
“Certainly not,” he agreed.
Dukes didn’t have to obey commands. He’d never bothered to think about that truth, but the fact was he could do whatever he damned well pleased.
He could stay in the ballroom.
Or he could go to the library and find the sodden Miss Valentine. He could apologize for his sister’s actions.
Or:
He could seduce her.
CHAPTER TWELVE
After Lady Paget brought her to the library, Bea stood as close as she could to the fire until a maid appeared with a tray holding a pitcher of hot toddy.
“My goodness, you’re drenched! You’d best take off those slippers,” the maid suggested. “You might take off your stockings too, if you want. You won’t be interrupted. Lady Paget told me that the Duke of Lennox’s carriage will come for you in a half hour, but I’d guess it will be longer, as there’s an awful crush in the street. Most of the guests are waiting for their carriages.”
Bea blinked at her. “Already?”
“A number of them have cast up their accounts, and the Prince of Wales spewed all over the billiards table!” Her eyes were bright with excitement.
The library was peaceful and even more important, warm. The minute the maid left, Bea kicked off her slippers, untied her garters, and pulled down her sopping stockings. Her bodice and chemise were merely damp, but her skirts were still soaking wet.
She snuggled down on a comfortable settee in front of the fire, sipping the spicy toddy. She couldn’t help smiling: One of the worst evenings of her life had abruptly become one of the best.
She had fought back. Stood up for herself.
Lady Regina’s first attack, weeks ago, had been so unexpected and shocking that Bea had succumbed before she’d realized what was happening. By their third encounter, she began to feel short of breath at the very sight of Regina or her friends.
