Page 69 of The Beauty and the Boxer
Meredith bit the inside of her lip as alleyes fell on her. Simon and Mountebank had paused in their seating,staring at her, and for the most awful moment, she wanted to runfrom the room. Instead, she smiled and nodded.
“Yes, Sir Kent, that would beagreeable.”
Why were all these meddling persons tryingto throw her and the good sir together? They had barely saidanything except the most cordial things to one another and whileshe supposed they had been rather friendly during the Pall Mallmatch and the ball, the truth was that ever since Jack had arrivedat Dragmoor, Meredith had been preoccupied.
After finishing breakfast, Meredith foundSarah, who was just finishing overseeing the packing for their longjourney home. Daniel wasn’t happy that they were leaving as he hadmade fast friends with the other children. Soon enough the entirefamily was gathered in the foyer, saying good bye toMountebank.
Except that Meredith was hardly aware. Shehad expected to see Jack for breakfast, or at the very least duringthe send offs, but it appeared he was nowhere to be found. Luckily,she was standing close to Simon and Mountebank and overheard themspeaking.
“—left early this morning,” Mountebank wassaying. “Something about needing to get back to Burnwall for apugilist match.”
“Yes, he’s coaching some new lad. A fighternamed Fredrick something,” Simon said, shaking his head. “He’s beenacting strangely now for several weeks. Behaving boorishly.”
“Hasn’t he always?” Mountebank asked.
Simon nodded, and then patted the duke onthe back as he said his goodbyes. So, Jack had left, as they madetheir way to the carriages. Well, she was not sorry to elude himthat morning and when she, Sarah, Simon, and Daniel were finallypacked away in their carriage, pulling away from Dragmoor, Meredithdecided that she would be quite happy indeed if she never saw JackArcher again.
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The autumn had finally settled in Bristolover the next two weeks and while Meredith had made it a point notto think, see or hear from Jack Archer since their return fromDragmoor, she knew her current miserable state was due to it. Ithadn’t been for lack of trying of course. She had gone for walksnear his property and called on Simon at the offices twice withSarah during a visit into the city but for all intents andpurposes, Jack had disappeared.
Meredith supposed it was for the best. Hehad told her clearly that he had no intentions of continuing hispursuit of her if she was going to commit to her spinsterhoodlifestyle. Perhaps theirs was only a passing fancy. She had hopedthat he had felt the same, genuine feelings she had. The odd,yearning pull to be near him and the continued desire to be touchedby his rough hands.
Still, it was probably better to forgettheir little rendezvous, especially since she was receiving lettersfrom Sir Kent. Of course, what had surprised Meredith the mostsince leaving Dragmoor was the fact that her letter writingrelationship with the soldier was now national news.
When she had ended up in the gossip pages afew days earlier, Meredith had been mortified. She didn’tunderstand. She had never been written about before. She was thevery boring, very spinster sister of a former countess and whilethe winter months usually led to an increase in fodder, simplybecause people seemed bored without it, she was surprised when, oneSunday morning, she found herself reading an article about SirKent, written in The Times.
Gentlemen, Sirs and the Like
…In other news, a little bird has toldthis author that a certain gentleman of honor has begun acorrespondence with the renowned ex—countess de Marchand’sforgotten sister, a Miss Meredith Taylor. The middle Taylor sisternever debuted and has been comfortably tucked away in the countryfor most of her life, but it was learned by this author that themild mannered miss certainly caught the attention of one ofLondon’s most renowned bachelors. Perhaps next season will befilled with a belated introduction for Miss Meredith Taylor, asthis author has it on good authority that Miss Beatrice Taylor willmake her debut this coming spring. Now, we must turn our attentionsto…
Meredith re-read the article three timesbefore she decided to find Sarah. Her sister had given up hersecret life as a gossip columnist over a year ago, so she surelywould know who wrote this drivel.
Why was she even worth being written about,Meredith wondered as she searched the house for her sister? She wasinsignificant really, and while Sir Kent held a certain fascinationwith the people of the ton, he hardly seemed like the type to rileup gossip. She had received a letter from him, not two days agothat mostly spoke of his plans to visit Shropshire for the upcomingholiday season, before travelling north to visit family inCumbria.
Meredith searched first in the family parlorand then in the library before ringing for a maid. A middle-agedwoman known as Carol appeared.
“Yes, my lady?” she asked, dipping into acurtsy.
“Have you seen Mrs. Archer?”
“I believe she went riding with MasterDaniel and Mr. Archer, my lady. They should be returning soon.”
“Thank you,” Meredith said as she headedtowards the foyer.
She wrapped a heavy wool shawl around hershoulders and went out of the house into the clean, crisp air.Autumn had arrived for certain, she thought as she walked past thestables to the freshly cut wheat fields. The scent of the seasonfilled her lungs as she went about her walk. Off in the distance,she saw the three riding on the horizon, some hundred yards away.Sarah seemed to catch sight of Meredith who waved her arm up aboveher head. Within moments, Sarah was bounding toward her.
Sarah had always been an excellent horsewoman, but had given up riding for a while after her firsthusband’s death. Since her marriage to Simon however, she hadreturned to the activity full force. Her horse, a dapple grey namedMorning Mist, came to a halt a few feet from Meredith.
“Hey-oh!” Sarah said, smiling. “Are you allright?”
Meredith handed her the paper that she hadbeen carrying with her. Sarah appeared confused for a moment, buttook it and began to read as her eyes scanned the article. Shesighed loudly before handing it back to Meredith.
“The Times has a new gossip columnist and apoor one at that,” she said. “How many times must she refer toherself as ‘this author,’ really.”
“Did you not read it?”
“I did,” she said, leaning forward to handher the paper back. “It’s hardly an exposé. It was bound to be inthe papers that Sir Kent had found someone to fancy. He’s ratherfamous, you know.”
