4.75 stars. I was reluctant to read this one in case my beloved Duke was as absent as the last story but it not only delivered in the banter, the mystery was top notch. This story was a more personal story, I appreciated the look into Bea's past and travelled with her past her horror of what may have happened to arrive at a satisfying conclusion.
Bea also was warmly humorous when Kesgrave would sneak into the house to chat with her once the family had left. No hysterics, knowing she was safe with him :)
I was glad to travel from her early trepidation of becoming a duchess and no longer being able to solve mysteries to stepping out to trust Kesgrave and together they worked things out.
Even the unveiling of the villain was well done. But I feel bereft (look at me using fancy words) in seeing how easily Bea can marry Kesgrave with just a special license? No church wedding, not even getting excited about a dress? All the things we women plan for a wedding did NOT happen and I for one was surprised. Later, it sounded like the Duke did everything? Not sure if that was just the custom of the day.
Flora is developing into a better (?) character than originally portrayed, I like how she takes her mother to task. Lady Abercrombie plays a vital role but I feel like she gets shelved and then trotted out when her character is needed. The Duchess was a gas! Bea has found a kindred spirit.
Highlights & spoilers ahead:
The pressure on her chest grew from painful to unbearable as she began to wonder how many people believed as her aunt did—that she had dishonorably exploited the situation to improve her standing. Unable to breathe, Bea pivoted swiftly and strode to the door.
Lady A:
“It’s not too late for us to reverse our course,” her ladyship said with sudden vehemence. “Forget all about this unpleasantness and focus on something truly important like my missing gold locket. The story might have a few incongruencies now, but I promise to smooth them out and have the appropriate item of jewelry hopelessly lost by the end of the day."
Bea: Nothing in Beatrice’s life had prepared her for the exquisite torment of reading her dead mother’s letters.
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Agitated by the predicament, for she could see no way forward that didn’t end with her heart shattered, she closed her eyes and took a deep, calming breath.
Kesgrave as he snuck in:
“I would offer to share my knowledge of locks, which, despite your mockery, is actually quite considerable, in a private tutorial, but I fear your aunt would insist on joining that as well,” he said, taking her hand and raising it to his lips.
Now her heart fluttered.
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5 types of beetroot! Bahahaha
“An addendum to the original,” he said. “I knew your aunt must have said something to unsettle you, for there could be no other explanation for your uncharacteristic reticence this afternoon. I have never known you to remain quiet when there is an opportunity to roast me. I made up five types of beetroot on the spot—no meager accomplishment, by the way, for unlike you I am not accustomed to inventing persons and things—and arranged them by size specifically to get a rise out of you and you didn’t look up once. Desperate for your attention, I even scrambled the order of the British ships that fought in the Battle of the Nile.”
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Bea’s heart quivered again, for few things could reveal the depth of his affection more than a blatant disregard for the dictates of maritime tradition. “Moving the conversation from beetroot to naval battles could not have been a smooth transition.”
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She could wallow in it, allow the prospect of an unwieldy staff to undermine her confidence as exhaustively as Miss Brougham’s spiteful comment had during her first season, or she could trust Kesgrave. (YES!)
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“Coward,” Bea said tenderly. “Craven. Faint of heart.”
His fingers rested at the base of her spine. “Are you trying to provoke me into kissing you?”
She grinned at the charge and leaned forward until her mouth just touched his. “How am I doing?”
“Terribly,” he breathed before capturing her lips with his own.
The Duchess:
With no clever thoughts in her head, Bea resorted to the truth. “Thank you, your grace. The compliment is deeply appreciated by me, and I must own that I did not come here today expecting such a charitable reception. I assumed you would be unhappy with the arrangement, as I’m not what you or anybody could have wanted for Kesgrave.”
“You shouted,” her grace said.
Bea, who had managed an intelligible comment by what felt like the skin of her teeth, wondered if perhaps the real problem was her hearing. “I shouted?” she echoed.
“When Kesgrave brought you here to castigate you in private, you responded to his criticism with equal fervor and refused to melt in the heat of his anger,” she explained. “I can think of no better basis for a marriage.”
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"You are quite clever. Damien needs someone who is clever and will stand up to him, not a simpering miss who will drive him to an early grave by agreeing with his every thought.
If I have to suffer a parcel of plain-faced great-grandchildren to see Damien properly settled with a woman who won’t let him descend into full-blown tyranny, then I am happy to do so.”
OMG swoon- love the Duke.
I liked this reminder: But power never yields without a struggle.