Page 47 of To Tame the Wild Rake
What had he been looking for? A temporary escape, he supposed. “Yes, sir,” he replied, and found himself explaining, though he had not intended to. “I wanted a holiday, I suppose. Time away from decisions I have to make and situations I cannot change.”
“And you have found that in trimming our hedges, digging our vegetable beds, and mending our window shutters.” Beauclair’s eyes twinkled. “Not everyone’s idea of a holiday, Mr Ford, but I am glad it has suited you. Ah. Here is the soup.”
Beauclair then asked, “What are your thoughts on the situation with Napoleon,” and they discussed the worrying news from Europe through a table setting mainly comprising a tasteless soup. “The cook here produces excellent meals in the English country tradition,” Beauclair explained, “but will insist on attempting French cuisine. Leave the soup, and enjoy the roast to come.”
The roast was superlative, and was a worthy accompaniment to a robust discussion of Napoleon’s likely reactions to Murat’s defeat at the hands of the Austrians, and the capacity of the British and Prussian alliance to defeat the Corsican should it come to a pitched battle.
After that setting was removed and the next laid, Beauclair told the maid, “Leave us now, Milly. You can clear the table when we remove to the parlour. I wish to speak to Mr Ford in private.”
Aldridge’s hands froze over the apple he was peeling. Here it came. Beauclair had recognised him, and was about to touch him up for money or political support or a job for a relative or protégé. He set the apple moving again, holding the knife so it slid under the skin.I’m inclined to agree to his requests. He is a good man.
“Yes,” Beauclair said. “I do know who you are. We did not meet last year when I was in London with my cousin Lechton, but you attended Alex Blasingstoke’s wedding. And even if I had not recognised you, enough people in the training school have seen you before that your identity is an open secret.”
Aldridge raised one eyebrow as he inspected the apple to ensure he had not missed a speck of skin. “No one has said a thing.”
Beauclair shrugged. “Here, we are used to people who want to leave their past behind. No one has or will say anything, and if you wish to be Ford while you are here, Ford you will be. Harris has been amused to have a marquis, heir to a duke, at his command.”
Aldridge thought about some of Harris’s rants about lazy gentlemen’s sons who had never done a lick of a work in their lives and couldn’t resist a wry smile.
“But it is about your past and your future that I wish to speak, Ford,” Beauclair continued. “I had intended to say nothing, but... I was uncomfortable.” He picked up another of the apples, and began to turn it in his hands. “I have been praying since you arrived, and it is clear to me that I am meant to tell you about the storm breaking over your family and your lady’s.”
My lady’s?Aldridge had the apple an inch from his mouth. He lowered it again. “A storm? What do you mean?”
Beauclair put the apple back into the basket on the table. “I cannot be certain. Someone who hates you. A weapon they have used before. Anger, spite, envy—”
He shook his head, frowning. “I should perhaps explain… I see...connections. See is not quite the right word, but it is closer than smell or taste or hear. The clear connection between Nate and Sarah is one of the reasons I supported them when they wanted to marry. I knew what the world would say—what my bishop did say. They were minors, and I had no right to encourage them to disobey their elders.”
Aldridge had his own opinion.Better than marrying the poor girl off to Richport or Rutledge or Selby, as her grandfather threatened. Richport would have been bad enough, but Rutledge was a dissolute wife beater, and Selby was an ally of Wharton’s and as mad as a meat-axe.
Beauclair was claiming a more mystical explanation for his actions. “But I could see that they belonged together, that their connection was meant. I am not explaining myself. Perhaps there are no words for such things, at least outside of theology.”
He sighed. “You are not a religious man, I think? It would be simpler to say ‘God willed it’, but that is not language you will accept.”
“I believe in the existence of some sort of divinity,” Aldridge admitted. “I am not convinced he, she, or it is interested in me. Or if he is, I do not think he likes me much.”
Beauclair gifted him with a gentle smile, conveying amusement with a touch of exasperation and a large helping of affection. “You have been told He loves all his creatures, and you do not believe it because you do not love yourself.”
Ouch. That struck a little close to home. Aldridge tried to fix Beauclair with the ducal glare he had perfected in front of a mirror when he was still in his teens. Beauclair didn’t seem to notice.
He continued, “You must have seen the sort of connection that Alex has with his wife, and Nate with Sarah? If it makes it easier for you, just assume that I have a natural ability to notice such attachments when they are still tentative. You have such a connection with Lady Charlotte. It is strong and true.”
I know.Aldridge wasn’t going to tell Beauclair how many women he had known, many of them skilled beyond belief, a few (a very few) dear to his heart. He had embarked on the night with Charlotte expecting to teach her how pleasant love-making could be, and assuming he would find pleasure in the experience. What happened had blown his preconceptions out of the water. His world was still rocking nearly a week later.
But Beauclair was still wrong. “She won’t have me.”
Beauclair’s answer was stern. “You need to find out why. The two of you are meant.” He had cut his apple into several small pieces and he stopped to eat one of them while Aldridge thought about that. Aldridge couldn’t think of anything to say. He tried to suppress the hope that welled regardless. Beauclair was obviously a little touched. It would be foolish in the extreme to trust his words.
Beauclair broke the silence. “However, at this time all you need to understand is that the connection with you has made Lady Charlotte a target. The storm I speak of? Its hatred is focused on you, and it strikes at Lady Charlotte to wound you. I thought you could have this week as respite before the storm broke. But I was wrong. The enemy has acted faster than I expected.”
“I am sure you mean well, Beauclair, but...”
Another gentle smile, this time even more amused. “You think I am delusional, Anthony. May I call you Anthony?”
Aldridge nodded, both to the request and to the statement.
“And I am Arthur. Anthony, you can believe me or not. It does not matter. But I beg you, on the off chance that I might be right, return to London in the morning. Your family and the woman that you love are in danger, and they need you.”
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