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“I…yes,” she replied, softening her gaze, and Anthony recognized that expression from the nights he spent in brothels where women would coax the money out of men’s pockets. “Please, may I come in so that our conversation may be more private?”
Anthony leaned his full weight against the doorframe, silently blocking her entry, and mirthlessly admitted, “I know about your deal with Lord Ivanry.” He watched Beatrice’s countenance shift from surprise to anger to neutral in a matter of seconds until she looked back at him coolly.
“I do not have the slightest idea what you are hinting at, Anthony,” Miss Ivanry sniffed, twiddling with the fingertips of her gloves. “Now, stop being stubborn and invite me in as a gentleman should.”
He did no such thing but rather bent down until he was at eye level with the temptress to tell her what he heard. “Do not lie, Beatrice, it is unbecoming of a lady. Earlier today, I overheard you and Lord Ivanry arguing about some deal you had made about trapping me with marriage.”
Anthony chuckled dryly. “I must admit, I did not think such a lovely creature as yourself would have the gall to agree to something like that, Beatrice. But then again, it would explain why you were so flippant with me when we first arrived here.”
Despite her best efforts, the young woman could not keep her face blank, and tears began to drip down her cheeks as the tight line of her lips wavered. Anthony was similarly unable to maintain his façade of harshness and took pity on her, stepping aside to guide her in with an outstretched hand. Even after it all, Anthony could not stop his heart from stuttering at the sight of her distress, and he hoped this was merely a fleeting symptom of falling in love that could be remedied by never seeing her again.
She stood in the center of the chamber, uncomfortably glancing around at a space that was not her own while searching for her answer. Anthony, after closing the door, decided to press further now that they were alone. “Was that why you followed me at the grand hall? Not because you were intrigued by your feelings for me but because you had been instructed to do so?”
Beatrice wiped delicately at her eyes before fixing them upon him. “You are drunk, Anthony. Do not accuse me of such things when you have no proof that they happened.” There was an inkling of frustration in her tone, either embarrassment or annoyed defeat – Anthony could not be sure – so he continued with a mean smirk in the hopes that it would render the truth.
“You told Lord Ivanry that you played your part perfectly, and he said that you enjoy enticing me. He then threatened you with something relating to your sister and told you to bed me before the end of the week. And you finally agreed but said you would take no pleasure in it,” Anthony listed, stating each fact on his fingers like a detective.
Miss Beatrice’s mouth opened and closed several times as though she was trying to find what to say. Her tears had begun to dry on her cheeks, and the humiliation there was replaced with defensiveness. “You have caught me, Anthony. I am not so proud that I would not admit that, but let me remind you that we are now even. For did you not have your own wager with Mr. Laughton?”
Anthony’s brows furrowed at that, and Miss Beatrice sent him her own predatory grin, happy to have noticed the slightest admittance of guilt in his features. “I followed you that night of the engagement ball to that place where women sell themselves to men like you,” she explained with contempt, “andIoverheardyouagreeing to make me succumb to you, lest you should lose your rakish status forever. It seemed a silly thing to wager, but then again, what are you, Anthony, if not a cad?”
That last accusation was spat with such sarcasm that Anthony thought she may have been joking, but the animosity arching her features told him otherwise. Before he could defend himself, Beatrice added with her arms crossed defiantly, “At least I was trying to save my sister from a fate worse than death. But please, continue to speak to me as though we were both motivated by pride and salaciousness. And to think I had come up here in the first place with the express intention of telling you the truth!”
Her exasperation filled the room, and Anthony was about to reply with his own when she uttered that last sentence. With a huff, Anthony brought one hand up to massage the bridge of his nose. “I was planning to tell you about my own dealings this morning, but clearly, things got in the way.”
He gazed down at her tiredly, adding, “And no, I was not entirely motivated by pride and salaciousness…perhaps at first, but the more I got to know you, Beatrice, the quicker those emotions blossomed into something else.” It was a confession that Anthony felt must be made, even though he still intended to forget her, so that it would not haunt him later when another woman shared his bed.
She looked at a loss for words but managed to eke out, “Speak plainly, Anthony.” And there it was, the moment when he was being called upon to present her with his throbbing heart, to allow her to hold it and examine it so that there would be no more secrets between them.
“I love you, Beatrice,” Anthony murmured, tasting each word as it slipped past his lips, and he could find no bitterness in them. Downstairs, there was a brilliant shriek of laughter and the sound of cards being shuffled, but neither of them seemed to hear it as Anthony waited for her answer.
* * *
Those three words diverted Beatrice’s mind, which had before been set on deriding Anthony, completely. From the very moment she heard about his wager with Mr. Laughton, Beatrice had never fully trusted the man’s intentions, and yet, here she was about to repeat those words back to him.
Beatrice stepped closer, carefully so as not to make him think she was poised for attack and peered up at him. “To think that such duplicity could lead to this,” she murmured, staring into his blue eyes with sincerity. “I love you too, Anthony.”
And then, before she could profess more, Anthony laughed, harshly and incredulously. “You cannot parrot my own words back to me and expect me to believe them,” he said dismissively, catching her hand in his own when Beatrice reached up to caress his cheek. “I have just bared my soul to you, and yet you still use my emotions against me.”
Beatrice tried to ignore the shiver working up her spine at his touch and had to swallow hard before replying, “It is the truth! I…I was not sure of my own feelings before, but now you must know that I was fond of you long before our formal acquaintance.” She flushed under his intense stare and said, “No one forced me to follow you the night of the ball – that was a choice I made that was motivated by forces beyond my understanding. At first, yes, I was intrigued by a man of your reputation for purely physical reasons, but as the days have passed, I confess your soul moves me just as strongly.”
All their anger seemed to have been carried off with the night breeze now that each of their hands had been played to the fullest extent. Anthony gently lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to each of her knuckles as Beatrice whispered, “I would do anything for you, Anthony…even if it means Lord Ivanry hurts me.”
“I would never let him,” Mr. Grayson promised, and Beatrice sensed that he had seen how Lord Ivanry used his masculine nature to intimidate her earlier.
“Perhaps we could trick him together,” she mused between stuttered breaths of anticipation, “make him believe you do not know of my dishonesty so that your marriage proposal will draw out his vile nature.”
“That could be done,” her new love replied, pursing his lips in thought. “It would be quite the task, though – what are you willing to offer me in return, my beautiful flower?” Beatrice sensed his playfulness and flushed at the reminder of his rakish ways.
While his fingers worked deftly to remove her gloves so that he could kiss her palms, Beatrice finally, almost silently, said, “I would give you my virtue, for you are the only man I want, Anthony.”
The bashfulness of her tone made him pause and place her hands beneath his unbuttoned shirt on the bare skin of his chest. And then he was enveloping her in his arms to tease her. “I thought I was a ‘cad,’ Beatrice, and that your pleasure was an act every time I tried to claim you.”
Beatrice lightly dug her nails into his chest, feeling the scratch of the dusted, black hairs there, and a playful smile grace her lips when she replied, “Take me now, and I will show you how readily my body craves yours.”
CHAPTERTWENTY
Anthony accepted her challenge easily, and Beatrice was struck by a bolt of lightning when he kissed her. Every hair on her arms stood on end, and her hips pressed forward of their own volition. Long gone were her timid, inexperienced touches, replaced by a drive to have Anthony between her legs. The man in question broke the kiss with a tug at Beatrice’s bottom lip, creating a mark that smarted as he mischievously whispered, “What a naughty thing you are, my girl. Coming to my room late at night so that I may have my way with you.”
