The Beast's Bliss (The Bluestocking War) Read online
The Beast’s
Bliss
The Bluestocking War
Book 12
by
Eva Devon
As Máire Claremont
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are either the work of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
The Beast’s Bliss
Copyright © 2023 by Máire Creegan
All rights reserved. No redistribution is authorized.
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any electronic or mechanical means—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without written permission.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Epilogue
Chapter 1
Lady Rose, second daughter of the Earl of Millbank, chucked her book across the room. It was a singular thing for her to do, for she was not in the habit of chucking books across the room. No. She revered books. She adored them. She loved them with every fiber of her being. And if Rose had her way, she would have spent the entirety of her days in the pursuit of words upon a page, but she was not allowed to.
Much to her dismay, her days were generally spent in practicing her waltz, her walk, her curtsy, how to hold her train, and how to make banal conversation with gentlemen who had very little to say.
But the book she’d just concluded was beyond impossible.
She let out a horrified groan, turned to her sister Hyacinth, who was bent over her own novel, and all but bellowed, “What did I read?”
Hyacinth barely lifted her gaze from her own page as she turned it slowly. She pushed her gleaming gold spectacles up her nose, for they tended to slip down, and replied, “I have no idea, dear sister, but clearly it has you in a strop.”
“I cannot be reading nonsense like this,” Rose defended, throwing her hands up.
It was impossible to read such a tale.
Clarissa.
She blew out a breath.
Oh, how she wanted to huff out the name and rail at the author for such a horrific ending. She pushed herself up from the settee and charged to the open window. Deeply, she drank in the warm scent of spring.
Winter had ruled for far too long and, frankly, she had been barely able to support the gray skies of England. Oh, she had been raised with the gray skies of England, so one would’ve thought she had a remarkable tolerance for them, but she did not.
The most frustrating part was that they had brought her spirits quite low recently, and she longed to see the beautiful flowers of the English countryside, or at least have them brought into their London townhouse. Thankfully, spring had arrived at last! Summer was nigh.
And the Season was in full swing. She was required to be in London for its entirety, and she was deeply grateful the weather had turned and fresh air had been allowed into the house. A frigid spring was not unheard of, and she was so glad that one had not appeared this year.
She studied the carriages bustling up and down the busy and fashionable street. The noise of people shouting and calling to each other gave her a shudder. She liked the idea of people. She liked the idea of company, and she certainly loved to read about people, but she did not actually like being among them.
There was a distinct difference.
Though she wished it was not true, company made her feel extremely odd. The nerves was how her mother put it.
She didn’t like feeling as if she had the nerves. It seemed like it was some sort of weakness, but the truth was that sometimes she just could not get on well in company.
Her mother castigated her for it almost daily.
She swung back to Hyacinth. “Did you finish reading it?”
Hyacinth blinked, pushed her spectacles up her nose again, this time out of habit, and lifted her gaze from the page. “What? Which one?”
Rose tsked, though she was not surprised her sister had barely heard a word she said. They both became lost in the world of books easily.
They read books every day and often finished them hastily. They both adored three-volume novels, for they guaranteed a long and delicious tale.
And frankly, she and her sister would rather be in this room reading novels and discussing them than at balls. They were odd. They knew it, but there it was. They liked it, even if their mother wanted to rend her garments and, at one point, had threatened to burn all the books in the house if they did not behave.
They behaved.
So, that the books were not thrown out or burned.
“Clarissa,” she reminded firmly, pointing to the offending book, which was now page down on the blue and green Axminster carpet.
Hyacinth grimaced, and her dark brown curly hair bobbed as she shook her head. “Oh no. I had to put it down. It was far too demoralizing.”
Rose sighed. “I agree. The ending.”
“Don’t tell me the ending,” her sister protested, horrified.
“You won’t wish to finish it,” she pointed out. “It is absolutely appalling what was done to that poor girl, Clarissa. I cannot bear it. And that awful man. How could anyone paint him as a hero?”
“Well,” Hyacinth said, pondering this. “Rakes are often painted as heroes, are they not?”
“Hmm,” considered Rose. “In my view, I do not see how a rake can possibly reform and make a good hero. That idiot in the book certainly did not, did he?”
Hyacinth pursed her lips. “I suppose not. But I haven’t read the ending, so I can’t really tell you.”
Rose clasped her arms under her breasts. “Well, he doesn’t, and the truth is that I don’t believe rakes do reform. Like the play says,” she said. “The Rake Relapse is inevitable.”
“Well, most people seem to think that rakes make excellent husbands.”
Rose rolled her eyes and crossed to the fireplace where she touched one of the dozens of invitation cards her mother loved to display. “Rakes are only good for one thing. The expertise they have and the knowledge they have accumulated, no doubt due to the multiple affairs they have had. But I do not see how they could be good husbands. Look at Papa. Wasn’t he a rake when he was young? He’s a terrible husband.”
“Mama does not seem to think so,” Hyacinth returned evenly, her book still open and ready.
Rose frowned, feeling rather demoralized by the state of ton marriages. “That’s only because Mama likes the gowns that she gets, the tiaras she has, and the coaches in her possession.”
Hyacinth tilted her head to the side and allowed, “That’s true.”
And with that, the door to the blue morning room burst open as if she had summoned her mother into the scene with her thoughts.
“My dears,” her mother trilled with remarkable optimism. “It is time to get ready for the ball this evening.”
Rose swallowed. “Mama, please. I don’t feel particularly well.”
Her mama scowled at her. “You will get yourself ready immediately or there will be no more lending library, and I will not allow you to visit Hatchards for the duration of the Season. Your credit there shall be ended.”
Rose dug her nails into her palms and gave a tight nod. What else could she do?
Her mother’s wide smile returned as if the irritating moment had not just occurred.
“Now, up to your rooms, my dears. It is time to make you shine and… Rose, you are potentially the diamond of this Season. You will not let me down with your silliness, and your vapors, and your nerves.”
Rose’s mouth dried. There was no reply she could make.
It was quite difficult because she knew that she possessed the exterior of someone who could be the diamond. Her mother had been the diamond of her Season. She had rattled on about it every year quite firmly to Rose, and her elder sister before her.
Yes, her mama had insisted she would be just like her older sister, Iris, and take London by storm.
The truth was that she didn’t even know if she could take the small street they lived upon by storm, let alone the ton, as her mother wished.
Her mother wanted her to be a grand lady, but she did not want to be a grand lady. She hated company. She hated balls, and she didn’t particularly like dancing. Well, no, that was not true.
She adored dancing with her sister and her tutor, Signore Burdini, in the green salon. But she didn’t like holding multiple people’s hands. It made her feel completely terrified for absolutely no reason. She knew it was unreasonable. She knew that she should simply pull herself together and get on with it, but she couldn’t.
Without another word, expecting Rose and her sister to follow like ducks in a row, her mother turned on her heel and headed back out into the hall, curls bouncing behind her.
 
; A cloud of lilac remained.
Rose and Hyacinth exchanged glances.
“Well, it’s going to be a long evening, isn’t it?” mused Hyacinth. “Do you think I can pack a pocket book?”
Rose groaned softly. “I think Mama would know, and then we’d be in terrible trouble. Can you imagine not going to Hatchards the whole season?” she lamented.
Hyacinth’s eyes widened with sheer horror. “I can’t imagine. It sounds like positive hell.”
“Hyacinth!” Rose exclaimed. “You must not say such things.”
Much to her younger sister’s credit, Hyacinth shrugged before she gave a devilish grin. “Mama’s not here, and I must practice my vocabulary.”
Rose laughed. Hyacinth always made her laugh.
In general, Mama did not bother Hyacinth because Hyacinth needed spectacles, and she was certain that Hyacinth would only catch a vicar for a husband. Which really didn’t seem fair because Hyacinth was quite pleasant and extremely intelligent. That, of course, was not always a bonus to lords—the intelligence bit.
Frankly, Rose adored her sister, and she was grateful to have her and wanted her to be happy and not miserable like Iris.
Still, she also needed her sister at these events. “You will not leave my side, will you, Hyacinth?”
Hyacinth closed her book and clutched it to her chest. “I won’t, even though I would rather find a nook and hide myself away.”
“And so would I,” Rose rushed. “I think we would both prefer a nook, but Mama will never allow it. Best we get married straight away then.” She tapped her forefinger to her chin, then added with a grin that matched her sister’s, “We must find husbands who like books and who’ll simply let us do whatever we want.”
Hyacinth arched a brow. “I don’t know if husbands will ever let us do what we want. Certainly not the kind Mama has in mind.”
Rose sucked in a breath. “If Papa arranges a marriage for me to one of those great lords, I shall have to give parties every day. I shall have to attend them every day. And the very idea of it…”
She began to shake. Her hands went cold, her palms sweating. She could not draw a breath. Hyacinth put her book down and jumped to her feet.
“Come to the window, sister,” she said and gently guided Rose to the window again. “Draw in a slow breath through your nose.”
She did, though it was a struggle, and she could barely get air in.
Her whole body was trembling at the very idea of having to be in company and crushes every day for the rest of her life.
Hyacinth stroked her back gently. “I am here. You are here safe with me. It will be all right, Rose. I promise you.”
But it wouldn’t be all right.
Rose was sure of that. Her mama was going to parade her, just as every young lady had to be paraded. She didn’t know why she had to be so different. She didn’t know why it had to be so difficult. Why she preferred the world inside her head to the world outside. Why it was so hard for her to make friends. Why it was so hard for her to have conversations or bear the company of others.
People were not so very terrible, but whenever she got into company, her cheeks went red, and she could not speak. Her throat tightened, and it was difficult to breathe, and she felt as if her whole body was vibrating.
She swung her gaze to her sister. “Whatever am I going to do? Mama wants me to be the jewel of this Season. But what if I can’t even speak to anyone?”
“You can,” Hyacinth said, turning her and clutching her hands. “I will never leave your side if you don’t want me to. I promise you. And we shall make funny quips. I shall tell you quotes by Shakespeare and Chaucer and remind you of the jolly silliness of life.”
She let out a laugh and was so desperately glad to have such a sister. “Thank you, Hyacinth.”
And with that, she embraced her sister, who held her tightly. But even in Hyacinth’s arms, she knew she had to find a solution. There had to be a way. She had to find someone who would help her find a husband who would not bother her, who would not insist that she be in company all the time.
Yes, she would find someone to help her, who would not ruin her life. And she wondered who exactly that was. Whoever it was, she had to find them.
With haste.
Chapter 2
Damian Hardbrook, Viscount Clarence, did not understand why people liked balls so well.
Oh, he didn’t think they were awful, but he couldn’t see the true appeal of them. He supposed it was because everyone of his class actually had to get married, and so they all had to assemble somewhere to find reasonable partners.
At least that’s why Almack’s existed. And he supposed balls were also an opportunity for people to find lovers and friends. But the truth was that he came because he was expected to, and he understood that his friends wanted him there.
And truthfully, he liked his friends and didn’t want to disappoint them. Frankly, sometimes his friends needed a bit of encouraging. And what was the world for if not to encourage one’s friends?
Still, he would far rather be on the Continent or at Horse Guards, but Horse Guards was not going to let him go back to the Continent anytime soon, and he wasn’t pleased about that at all.
They seemed to think he would be able to handle organizational and administrative tasks with superior skill to the lot of them, and, quite frankly, it was true, which was even more abhorrent.
The truth of it meant the deal was all but done.
He swung his gaze to his good friend, Abernathy, who struggled forward on his leg, part of which had been amputated but a few months before.
Abernathy, with his black hair, obsidian eyes, and granite expression looked as if he was going to set fire to the whole room. His hands were clutched behind his back, his red uniform was perfect, but he looked like he wanted to do murder.
Pain did that to a man, as did learning to stay upright on a peg leg that needed constant adjustment.
His presence at the ball tonight, though he would never say it, was to support his friend. His friend did not like coming out anymore, but he needed to.
The black hole of melancholia was real, and winter did strange things to people in the isles. Yes, though the sceptered isle was glorious, it could truly render one emotionally incapacitated with its long winter nights and gloom.
And though spring had arrived weeks ago, one did not suddenly become cheerful after winter and an amputation.
The truth was that many people had not quite climbed out of the mire, and Abernathy had more reason to stay in than out.
His leg had been bloodied terribly on the continent, a cannonball landing adjacent to him as he shoved a young drummer boy out of the way. His leg had been blown to ribbons, and the man now had to learn to negotiate the world with a wooden stick attached to what remained of his knee.
He also had a cane, something Abernathy loathed and refused to use, because Abernathy had been one of the fastest men in the army until the accident.
The man’s face looked like a positive mask of fury as he stared at the dancers.
Clarence folded his arms across his chest, a gesture which would no doubt cause his valet, Hobbs, to have a fit. But Clarence couldn’t be bothered about the starch of his shirt.
“Absolute idiots poncing about, showing off for each other.”
“It’s part of society,” Abernathy ground out.
“Ah, your reflections suit my mind,” Clarence said. “But don’t you think we could find partners in some better way than parading up and down in frocks that are meant to be no better than peacock’s feathers?”
Abernathy snorted. “It is the way of things and always has been, Clarence. You can’t change everything.”
Clarence let out a dry laugh. “Do I always act as if I wish to change everything?”
Abernathy gave him a side-eye. “Indeed you do, old boy. I think if you could, you would change the whole world order.”
“I would not,” he protested swiftly at such a grand and inaccurate summation. “I’m a loyal man of the Crown, and I would not undo that, though half the world wishes to undo monarchies.”
Abernathy let out a grunt of acknowledgement. “Yes, you are a loyal man. I will give you that.”
“Why, thank you,” Clarence said with the bow. Though the truth was that he would prefer to undo a great deal about society and how it was run.