“Non. I appreciate it, ma sœur. Truly. But it should not fall to you to rectify my mistakes. Besides, I’ve disrupted her life too much already. I cannot undo that, but… I can respect her wishes going forward.”
Beatrice regarded him in silence.
It was not like her brother to surrender.
Nor was it easy to understand how any woman might refuse him. He was handsome, charming, capable—when he chose to be—and, if permitted, would move heaven and earth for the object of his affection.
“You are sure?” she asked.
Dash nodded.
Beatrice inclined her head.
“Very well. I’ll pack. Mrs. Hargrave will be glad to have her ballroom back, I imagine. She complains the straw finds its way into every room.” Beatrice spoke lightly. “I far prefer hunting in the country, anyway. These Mayfair gentlemen make such a fuss when one little arrow goes astray.”
Dash gave a short laugh. “Go on, then. We’ll leave at sunup.”
Beatrice moved toward the door, but then paused.
Dash glanced up. “I’m fine, Bea.”
They both knew he was lying. But knowing he’d prefer licking his wounds alone, she inclined her head and slipped out.
Not toward her room, though.
To the study.
She did not sit at once. Instead, she stood for a moment at the desk, fingers resting lightly against its edge…
It couldn’t hurt, could it?
Then she drew out a piece of paper. And she wrote.
Dear Mrs. Bloomington,
I don’t believe we have been introduced…
She kept her words sparse. Precise. There was no need to embellish. When she had finished, she read it through once, folded it, and sealed it.
A pull of the bell brought Drake at once.
“Yes, my lady?”
“Have this delivered to Mrs. Bloomington, on Audley Street. At once.”
THE VIGILANCE SOCIETY
They did not, in fact, return to Dasborough Park.
With little explanation, and quite suddenly, Dash had abandoned his intention to leave London—which meant that Beatrice could proceed with her plans.
Therefore, two days later, and under the guise of a perfectly ordinary afternoon tea, seven young ladies gathered at Bare Hall.
Lady Barrington, most conveniently, was otherwise engaged.
Lark and Lady Theodosia had worked quickly, settling on names and sending out invitations within the day. Beatrice, who had not exactly spent the Season cultivating friendships over lemonade, had invited Lady Persephone Rensleight—who then invited her younger sister, Lady Calliope.
Beatrice hadn’t exactly been enthused about Lady Calliope’s inclusion, not after the girl had gossiped so readily about the incident with Lord Longstaffe. But Persephone had insisted and promised her sister’s silence.
