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“I can’t enjoy myself when I’m worried I’ll make the wrong step. I would be a more graceful and gracious dance partner if you would allow me to wear my spectacles. I have them in my reticule in the cloakroom.”
“You don’t need your spectacles. I’m here to guide you through the evening and into the arms of eligible gentlemen.”
“It might help if I could actually see their faces instead of a blur with eyes. I might enjoy myself more.”
“That matters not at all. Your duty is to smile and follow their lead. Men are looking for their own reflections. Always remember that, Beatrice. They want to see their strength, wit, and power reflected in your eyes.”
Don’t be beastly, Beatrice.
Smile. Be congenial. Hide your true nature. Be a mirror for others’ glory. “Don’t be difficult,” said her mother.
“I’m not being difficult, I’m only distracted by the thought of all of those ancient manuscripts languishing in wooden crates and threatened by damp floorboards.”
“Your father told me that there was some scandal attached to the bookshop though he would never tell me the specifics. If this buried scandal comes to light, I don’t want it reflecting poorly on your reputation.”
“It won’t, Mama. I’ve decided to sign over the bookshop to the Knitting League, as our new clubhouse. If any scandal comes to light, it will be associated with our president, the Duchess of Ravenwood.”
“I daresay duchesses are more able to weather scandal. Especially Ravenwood, since her reputation wasn’t exactly spotless to begin with. But what of our solicitor? I told Greenaway to sell the property.”
“No papers have been signed.” Beatrice made her face as bland as possible. This next move was where the subtlety came into play. “You know, Mama, it might be easier to enter more fully into the spirit of these entertainments if I were allowed to explore my new inheritance.”
Her mother searched her face. “I see. So that’s what this is all about. I can garb you in finery, dress your hair in the latest fashion but I can’t force you to be sociable, is that it?”
“Your words, Mama. Not mine.”
“You want to strike a bargain.”
“A bargain?”
“Don’t act so innocent. You know that’s what you’re hinting at. You want to spend time in that dusty old bookshop, and if I let you do that, then you’ll make more of an effort. Very well. What will it take, Beatrice? One hour a day? Two?”
Beatrice dropped the idea of subtlety. Her mother was far too perceptive, as well as being the master of bargaining.
“If you grant me two hours a day at the bookshop, I promise to be the most sweet-tempered and congenial lady in the room on every social call, at every ball, soiree, and musicale.”
“Ha! I’ll believe that when I see it.”
“Try me, Mama. See how I sparkle. See how proud I make you.”
The first notes of the waltz drifted into her ears. She was to dance with Mayhew, her mother’s chosen target. The stakes were high... would she agree?
Her mother held her gaze for several more seconds, before heaving a decidedly un-duchess-like sigh. “Oh, very well. You win, Beatrice. When your schedule permits, you may spend a few hours going through those dusty crates of books. With adequate chaperonage, of course.”
“Of course,” Beatrice agreed eagerly. “There’s a housekeeper, a Mrs. Kettle, a most motherly matron, who is present most days.”
“The shop is closed I presume?”
“Closed and kept locked.”
“You’ll take one of our carriages, and the coachman will wait for you outside.”
“Agreed.” Beatrice couldn’t believe her plan was actually working. “I won’t disappoint you, Mama.”
“Now is your chance to prove yourself. Go and dance with Mayhew.” She practically shoved her out from behind the ferns.
Beatrice was prepared to dazzle now that she’d accomplished her goal.
Soon she was gliding across the floor in the arms of the golden-haired Earl of Mayhew. She remembered her mother’s instructions and stared vacantly up at him, smiling sweetly and allowing him to control her every movement.
