One Night with an Earl by Jennifer Haymore Page A

yourself out, no doubt.”
    At that, the long-dormant spark of defiance burst to life in Beatrice’s chest. She wouldn’t cower under the force of their cruel words. Not this time. Beatrice gazed evenly at her mother. “No,” she said firmly. “Do not speak of me like that, Mother. That is not what happened last night.”
    â€œYou dare naysay your mother?” her father bit out.
    â€œThe impertinence,” her mother gasped.
    â€œIt is not impertinence. It is the truth.”
    â€œObviously you’re lying,” her father said.
    â€œI’m not lying, Papa. I have no reason to lie to you. And as far as I know, I am not a prisoner in this house. I am a woman full grown and capable of deciding on my own where I should go at night.”
    â€œOh, no, girl. If you live under my roof, you will obey me,” her father growled.
    â€œStop trying to sidetrack the conversation, Beatrice,” her mother hissed. “This is about your loose morals and your self-serving behavior, that is all.”
    Beatrice pressed her lips together and shook her head. These two people—they were her parents, but they were like strangers to her. And though they somehow still had the power to hurt her, she could face them with her head held high. Somehow, she had found the strength that had always resided within her but had gone dormant…until last night.
    â€œNo,” she said quietly. “It is nothing like that. All I—”
    Her mother raised her hand. “No. Nothing more from you, Beatrice. No more. I cannot bear having you in London. You seem determined to undermine us and our rightful place in society. I won’t allow it, do you hear me?” Her mother came so close, Beatrice could smell the sherry on her breath. “I won’t… allow …it.”
    Beatrice stared at her mother, standing tall, being brave, bracing herself for the slap her mother’s raised hand foretold. But the slap never came. Instead, her mother turned away, an expression of supreme disgust on her face.
    â€œYou will leave this house today,” her father said. “You will be retiring to the dower house on our estate in Berkshire.”
    â€œAnd there you will stay,” her mother declared. “Out of our sight.”
    Berkshire.
    Oh, no. They were wrong. There was no way on God’s green earth she’d go to Berkshire.
    Berkshire was too far away from Drew.
    *  *  *
    Drew felt warm and languid, his body sated, his heart full, though he wasn’t awake enough to contemplate why. He stretched languidly and opened his eyes.
    Something was missing. For a moment, he had no idea what it was, but then it all came rushing back.
    Beatrice. Where was she?
    He rose, calling her name several times, the volume of his voice steadily rising. No answer. He slid out of bed, and finding his clothes from last night strewn across the floor, he quickly yanked on his trousers, tossed his shirt over his head, and shoved his feet into his shoes.
    She’d gone.
    But he knew where she lived. He hurried out the back door of his house and into the mews, thrusting his arms into the sleeves of a coat he’d found hanging on a peg at the door—Mitchell’s coat, no doubt.
    He mulled over why she might have left. After last night, she couldn’t have had a change of heart. But then again, things appeared different in the harsh light of day, so he couldn’t be sure. Had she worried someone saw them together and would start a rumor?
    If that was the case, then she had nothing to worry about. He knew the rules of society enough to know what he must do. She was a lady. Regardless of her past history, he’d compromised her. He fully intended to do what was right and ask for her hand in marriage.
    No matter that it was what he’d wanted years ago. It was what he wanted now, too.
    Grinding his teeth at the thought of her slipping through his fingers yet again, he