Page 48 of Lady Beast's Bridegroom
He went on to report interviews with what he called, “…several interested parties, some sympathetic and some hostile.” One of these was, apparently, “…a lady of society discomfited when the gentleman she had claimed as her own discovered her deceitful and unkind nature by comparison with that of the new bride of his best friend. Instead of amending her fault, this lady chose to slander the bride.” His description of an interview with “a cousin of the gentle lady” suggested—without exactly saying—that said cousin was a vicious liar, driven by greed and jealousy.
Regina, who had called to see how she was, said she had spoken to the man herself. “I thought someone should explain to the newspapers what is really going on.” She smiled what Arial thought of as hercream potsmile. “I told him why Miss Weatherall really broke off the betrothal, and about Stancroft’s attempts to get his hands on your money.”
She chuckled. “He came back later to tell me that Miss Weatherall contradicted herself with every second sentence, and that Stancroft threatened him with a beating if he mentioned him in any way.”
Arial was impressed. “Perhaps I should give him the interview he requested, as a reward for his bravery.”
Regina doubted it was courage. “I am sure his editor is selling newspapers by taking a contrary position to the other printers. After all, the others have long since parted with reality to find something new to say. Defending your reputation is good business.”
“I am grateful, whatever their reasons,” Arial insisted.
“Have you told Lord Ransome?” Regina asked.
Arial explained, “I don’t want to worry him. His sisters are both very ill. It is a nuisance, Regina, that’s all. My people make sure I am not at risk.”
“You know your own business best,” Regina said, sounding doubtful. “You are right that your Peter would rideventre a terreup to Town if he knew of this latest bother. He loves you.” She sighed. “I do envy that.”
Arial could not accept Regina’s conclusion. It was true that Peter was protective of her, lusted after her, and treated her with respect. But that was not love. Was it? She changed the subject. “Will you marry again?” Then, embarrassed at prying, she added. “I apologize. I should not have asked.”
“We are friends, are we not? Friends can be honest with one another. If you trespass, I will let you know.” Regina studied her teacup for a moment. “In answer to your question, I would like children. A husband is a prerequisite. But I am not yet so old and so desperate that I will take any of the suitors currently showing an interest.”
She shot Arial a wry glance. “Not that most of them are interested in marriage, as such.”
Arial did not know quite how to respond. She knew that widows had a certain license but had not considered they might feel as hunted by prospective lovers as men often felt by prospective brides.
Regina sighed again. “As a young girl, just out, I dreamed of meeting the perfect gentleman. Of falling in love and being loved in return.”
She shook off the dismal mood with a laugh. “Well. At some point, I shall tell you the whole sorry tale of my ruin and Gideon Paddimore’s rescue. I was content in my marriage, Arial. But I would have liked children, and I do hope for more than contentment if I marry again. I said I envy you, but you also give me hope.”
Arial hated to disabuse Regina of the notion that she and Peter had a love match, so she said nothing.
Regina continued. “Yours was an arranged marriage, whatever the story you’ve told the gossips, and yet you and Peter are thoroughly in love, as is plain to everyone except the pair of you. You should tell him how you feel, Arial. Gideon always used to tell me that men are idiots about feelings and need our guidance in such matters.”
“Should you not be home getting ready for the garden party tomorrow, Regina?”
Regina laughed. “I am to stop trespassing, in other words.” She waved a languid hand. “As to the garden party, friends are more important. I do not have so many I can afford to neglect even one. Are you sure you are all right? I would not blame you, you know, if you chose not to attend tomorrow.”
“Not at all,” Arial insisted. “I am looking forward to it.”
“Liar,” Regina said. “You are far too clever not to feel some concern. And far too proud to take any notice of it. Still, I think I can promise that you need not fear thrown eggs, Arial.”
*
Rose’s fever reachedhigher than ever, and the village doctor told Peter that the crisis would come soon. From that moment, he didnot leave her bedside except for the most urgent calls of nature. For more than twenty-four hours, he held her hand and talked to her, sponged her to bring down the fever, fed her sips of lemon and honey water, and then did it all again, over and over.
At last, the fever broke, and she fell into a deep sleep—lying so still after the days and nights of restless tossing Peter was afraid she had died. He touched her, and she was warm, but not hot. He put his face close to her mouth and could feel her breath on his cheek.
His head dropped a little more. He would rest, just for a moment.
When he woke, the sun was well up in the sky. His bones ached from his awkward hunch against the bed. Rose was still sleeping.
“She is on the mend, my lord.” Miss Pettigrew and the maid were sitting on the other side of the bed. “Have a bath and go to bed yourself. We will watch her now.”
A bath sounded wonderful, and a shave. “You will call me if there are any problems?” he asked. With that promise, he went off in search of a footman to order a bath. He nearly went to sleep in the water, and his hand shook when he attempted to shave so that, for once, he allowed one of the footmen to do it.
Edwards offered, but Peter had a more important task for him. “Fetch me something to eat, would you, Edwards? If that doesn’t wake me up, I will go back to bed.”
He put a banyan over his pantaloons and shirt and checked on Rose one more time. She was still sleeping, with Miss Pettigrew watching over her. He visited Viv in the bedroom she had been moved to as she recovered. She was sitting up in bed playing with a wooden puzzle. “Miss Pettigrew told me that Rose is getting better, and that you went to bed because you have been up for nearly two days.” She put her head to one side. “I think you should go and sleep. You look very tired.”
