Married By May

walked.
Ewan shook his head in frustration.
He was talking himself into a very awkward predicament here.
So, what to do?
Should he just walk away now, leave her to her fate and hope that Edmund was lying about ruining her for real?
After all, that thought had never entered Edmund’s mind until he’d realised that Ewan had grown to care for her.
Or should he stay and keep watch over her? Knowing that he could never have her, but at least preventing Edmund from being able to destroy her life.
She looked around, and Ewan smiled as he took in her obvious excitement.
However, his smile disappeared at the sudden appearance of his cousin by her side.
Edmund bowed to the entire party, and Ewan was glad to see that none of them seemed happy with his company.
But his appearance made Ewan’s mind up for him.
There was no way in hell that he was going to stand here and risk Edmund tricking Beatrice or leading her astray.
Because while she might deserve better than Ewan, she sure as hell deserved better than Edmund.

Chapter Nine
“Stop fidgeting,” Natalia whispered.
“You sound like my mother,” Beatrice whispered back.
She was nodding and smiling and responding to greetings all around her.
But she couldn’t concentrate on anything. Her eyes constantly darted around the room, seeking out Ewan.
He had said that he would be here, and she was anxious to get on with things.
Natalia had convinced her that the only thing she needed to gain a proposal was some time alone.
“After all,” Natalia had said whilst they were deciding on Beatrice’s mint green silk for the dance, “the poor man hasn’t had a second alone with you. But your maid won’t be at the ball, and I know I can distract Ben in a dark corner of an assembly room.”
Beatrice blushed at Natalia’s suggestive words, though she didn’t doubt her friend’s abilities. Still, since Ben was more like brother than cousin, she’d rather not think overly much about such things.
“What if he doesn’t come? What if – what if I mistook –“
“Lady Beatrice, Lady Staunton. Good evening.”
The ladies spun around at the sound of the voice behind them, and Beatrice’s heart flooded with a feeling of elation.
Ewan stood before her, looking down at her with that smile that made her dizzy. Impossibly handsome in a black dinner jacket and snow-white cravat.
“You look remarkably well this evening, Lady Staunton.” He bowed to Natalia before once more directing his gaze to Beatrice. “Lady Beatrice.” Even his voice softened as he raked his eyes over her. “You’re enchanting.”
Beatrice’s breath hitched. She believed him. For the first time in her life, she believed that she was enchanting, in his eyes at least.
“Will you dance the next with me, my lady?” he asked.
Beatrice smiled and nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
As she took his proffered arm and began to walk away, Natalia clutched her free arm and bent to whisper urgently in her ear.
“Get him to take you outside for some air after the dance,” she said. “I’ll keep Ben in here.”
Beatrice nodded then joined the dancers who were just lining up for a reel.
She faced Ewan, her eyes locked with his, feeling as though they were the only two people in the room. In the world.
The steps of the dance took them close together then back apart.
Every time she got close to him, she caught the bergamot and mint scent that set her pulse fluttering and made her head swim.
They didn’t speak above a few words for the duration of the dance, but Beatrice didn’t mind. She was thoroughly enjoying daydreaming about being his wife, filling his nursery, and spending countless evenings dancing with him, and just being by his side.
There was only one blot on the evening.
Halfway through the dance, Beatrice noticed Ewan’s shoulders stiffening, and she turned to where his eyes were staring, a blank, dull look in their blue depths.
When she looked over her shoulder to see what had aroused his ire, she saw Sir Edmund watching them, a strange look of smugness on his face.
Beatrice hadn’t really prodded when it came to Ewan’s relationship with his cousin. They were so different she couldn’t imagine what sort of business they could have together. But Ewan didn’t speak about it, save to say that they had a financial agreement to bring to an end.
Before she’d been able to ask further questions, he’d presented her with a handful of wildflowers he’d been picking on their walk. Beatrice still had them pressed between the pages of her favourite romantic novel.
“Are you well?” she asked subtly when they joined hands for a brief portion of the dance.
He squeezed her hand, an unreadable look crossing his face.
“I am, love, I’m with you,” he whispered before the dance took them apart again.
Beatrice tried not to let anything show on her face, but inside her heart was fit to burst.
He’d called her love.
Could she believe that he meant it? Had timid, dull Beatrice Trafford found someone who loved her?
Ewan could have kicked himself as the endearment slipped past his lips.
He’d noticed the spark of joy in her eyes at his words, and damn if an answering one didn’t burst to life within him.
He shouldn’t have said anything.
The waters between them were already muddied.
No matter what he was feeling inside, no matter what he wished could be possible, giving Beatrice false hope was a cruelty that she didn’t deserve.
Like so much of what he’d already done.
But he couldn’t help how he felt.
Seeing her in the flickering candlelight, her eyes shining with excitement, her mint gown clinging to her curves in a way that nearly brought him to his knees, how could he not use the endearment that was in his heart?
When his eyes had locked with Edmund's, it had taken all of his self-control not to go over there and add to the bruising and swelling around the blackguard’s nose.
But he firmly put Edmund from his head. This could very well be his last chance to spend any