Page 35 of Lady Beast's Bridegroom
He cast Arial a helpless look. “I am so sorry I brought this trouble upon you.”
“You could not have known that Mrs. Weatherall would be so determined to make mischief,” Arial pointed out. “Nor are you responsible for her actions. I join my thanks to Peter’s. Your arrival was timely, indeed. This is obviously something the two of you planned. Who were those men?”
“Soldiers we knew from the army,” Peter explained. “John has been helping them to find work and accommodation while he waits for another post.”
“I’d like you to employ the two that took Stancroft away,” John said. “They need work, and you need guards. Peter told me, Lady Ransome, that the men you already have are keen to head back to your village.”
“Yes, and where were they?” Peter wondered.
Barlowe wasn’t sure, but when he went to inquire, he came back with Sergeant Miller, who was very apologetic about having been out when the villainous earl arrived. “I gave the men the morning off, my lord,” he said. “I, er, just stepped out for a moment. I should not have done so, but I never thought of anything happening this early.”
The sergeant agreed that the two men from Sir Thomas were keen to go home but asked if he could stay on. “I want to protect her ladyship, and I can see that the job isn’t done,” he said.
So, Peter accepted the services of John’s ex-soldiers to bolster their strength. “I’m sure Josiah will not win in the end, but I’m equally sure that he has not given up.”
“I think we have something else to thank you for, Captain Forsythe.” She picked up the invitation.
“Oh, yes. I did happen to mention my old comrade’s new bride to my sister-in-law. Will I have the pleasure of seeing you tonight, then?”
Arial nodded. At least one other person they knew would be there. Or perhaps two. “Will we also have the felicity of seeing Miss Weatherall?” she asked.
John replied in the affirmative, but he did not look happy about it.
Poor man. Arial revised her opinion that the Weatheralls would break off the betrothal if someone better-connected showed an interest. Poor John was heir apparent to a marquess,since Lord and Lady Deerhaven had no sons. A parvenu like Belinda Weatherall was unlikely to find someone better connected than that.
Chapter Fourteen
London, March 1817
“Three weeks ofdinners, soirées, balls, musicales. Afternoon calls and drives in Hyde Park.” Peter grimaced. “I think it’s been necessary—I think it has worked. But I hate that establishing Arial’s sanity and her right to her own choice of husband means impressing people for whose opinion I don’t give two farthings.”
He was having lunch with John at John’s club. Peter, too, had joined Westruthers, figuring he needed a refuge for occasions like today, when the female component of his family had gone out without him.
“Cordelia seems to have taken your wife in great affection,” John commented.
That was true. Lady Deerhaven and Arial had liked one another from the first, and Lady Deerhaven’s sponsorship had opened many doors for the Ransomes. “Arial and my sisters are visiting her at the moment. The girls have become great friends with your older nieces.”
“What of the evil cousin?” John asked.
“He seems to have given up, at least for the moment.” Peter shrugged. Stancroft’s next ploy, after the failed attempt to burst into Peter and Arial’s townhouse with constables, had been to lay an information with the local magistrates, alleging that Arialwas feebleminded, and that Peter was holding her against her will.
Accusations made by an earl could not be ignored. Accusations made against a viscount concerning his viscountess could not be actioned without further investigation. Three magistrates questioned Arial, Peter, the household servants, Richards, John, and the vicar who performed the wedding. They then told Stancroft that his cousin was well and of sound mind and had married Peter of her own free will.
Arial was relieved. Peter did not trust Stancroft’s silence.
“Most of the gossip now is just sour-minded, and people take it as such,” John offered. “A few people tried to make a thing of her masks, but Cordelia told everyone she knew that they were marvelous.” He raised his voice in a very inaccurate imitation of his sister-in-law.
“So pretty, and practical, too. She was badly injured in a fire when she was a child, you know. Poor darling. Her mother and brother died, and she was not expected to survive. She is a real lady, to cover her scars for the sake of the weak-minded, do you not think? I have always said that character matters more than looks, but I must say, with those lovely masks and her wonderful carriage, she is a beautiful sight to behold, is she not?”
Peter grinned. “That’s what she said, is it? And no one will gainsay the Marchioness of Deerhaven. Not that she’s wrong, John.” To him, Arial was beautiful inside and out. He had become well enough acquainted with every part of her, except for the side of her face she kept covered and scars on her shoulder she still would not show him. Therefore, he was the only person with a right to an opinion.
He supposed she was not the kind of ethereal sprite or cuddly little doll that Society currently seemed to prefer, but neither type had ever made his mouth water. Nor other juices rise.
She was a wonderful companion, an excellent partner who matched and inspired him, and a delight in bed. Sometimes, he could even imagine she had married him for himself, and not for his protection.
“You have that fatuous smile on your face again,” John observed. His smile was weak. “I am delighted for you, my friend.”
Peter just wished that he could see a like happiness in John’s future. But unless Miss Weatherall abandoned him, that was unlikely—and it seemed John was coming to realize that fact.
