Page 41 of The Viscount's Pearl
It was not a dream. She had called him by his name.
“Frances,” he said, panting with the dash of getting to her and the rush of emotions. He looked down at her lips and badly wanted to kiss her again, but her wide grey eyes seemed anxious and instead he took her hand and pressed it. He wanted to shout out loud, tell the whole world that she was promised to him. She was to be his bride and that was all that mattered. He wanted a witness of what had been agreed, wanted to make it real as soon as possible.
“We must tell Uncle, he will be very happy with the news.”
Frances nodded. Her cheeks were flushed and when Laurence offered her his arm she took it without question. They walked along the beach, feet slipping occasionally in the soft sand. It took them a few minutes to reach Lord Barrington, whose head was reclined on a small pillow made for this purpose, eyes closed, resting in the bright sunlight. One of the footmen had been dispatched to Northdown to bring back a picnic for the midday meal.
“Uncle Barrington?” Laurence said.
“My boy?” he replied, eyes still closed.
“I – that is we – have something to tell you.”
Lord Barrington opened his eyes and looked up at them. “Have you indeed?”
“Yes, Sir. We are to be married.”
Lord Barrington’s eyes creased into a deep smile and he stretched out both hands, taking a hand of each of them in his own and clasping them tightly. “Ah, this is happy news. I confess I had hoped for such an outcome when the two of you first met. As Sophocles said, one word frees us of all the weight and pain of life, and that word is love. I hope love will always smile upon you both and on your marriage.”
“Thank you, Uncle,” said Laurence.
“Thank you,” murmured Frances.
“And it will be soon? The wedding?”
“Yes, Sir. I will visit Lord and Lady Lilley and then my father, there is no need for a delay.”
Lord Barrington chuckled. “I believe my goddaughter is looking forward to getting rid of Lord Hosmer, Laurence, and quite right too. Besides, when your parents know that Laurence has asked for your hand, Frances, they can have no possible objection. He’s younger and richer and a great deal better looking. And he may not have a title yet, but it will happen soon enough. I am an old man, and a tired one at that.”
“There is no hurry on that front, Sir,” said Laurence. “We hope you will be with us for many years yet.”
“You’re a good boy,” said Lord Barrington fondly. “You will make an excellent husband to Frances here. And she will make you happy, I know it. Now, finish your shell walk for the day. This evening, we shall celebrate with some excellent champagne to toast you both.”
Frances squeezed his hand and stepped away, walked a few paces from them and then stooped to pick up a shell. Laurence stayed by Lord Barrington, both of them watching her.
“You chose with your heart, and the heart is never wrong, Laurence, though it may seem it sometimes. The heart always wins.”
Laurence nodded. “Can I push your chair, Sir?”
“No, Laurence, walk with your intended. I shall rest here for a while, enjoying the sunshine and the knowledge that the two of you will soon be wed. I am a contented romantic today. I shall bask in your reflected happiness.”
Laurence gave him a bow. Let his uncle believe it was a love match on both sides. It would give him joy and there was no harm in it, after all. “We will not be long, Sir, the tide is coming in, the strandline will soon disappear.”
“Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore,so do our minutes hasten to their end.”
“Shakespeare, Uncle?”
“Very good, my boy. Sonnet Sixty by the great bard. Now go along, your future wife is waiting for you.” He raised his hand and Frances waved back. He sat smiling, watching them as they moved slowly along the beach, before he leant back against the pillow and closed his eyes again, the sun shining down on his pale skin.
“He was happy,” said Frances, as they walked on.
“He was,” agreed Laurence. “I think perhaps he has been playing matchmaker to us for the past few months.”
“Has he?”
He nodded. “Asking me to stay when you were already his guest, suggesting a house party to your mother and then sending me as his representative. And we had a conversation…” He trailed off, remembering how Lord Barrington had teased out of him what he really wanted, rather than what he had believed a marriage should be.
“He believes we are in love,” said Frances, stopping to collect another shell. It clinked against the others in her basket.
