Page 15 of The Trials of Alaric
“Should you be showing this to me, Mr. Redhaven?” Lady Beatrice asked, not opening the folded paper.
“I am not competing with you, my lady,” Alaric pointed out. “Why shouldn’t I share the clue with you? And what I think about the clue?”
“You do not fear I will tell the other suitors?” she insisted.
“I do not,” he assured her. “For two reasons. First, I judge you to be trustworthy. Second…” He shrugged. “If I win, my lady, but do not have your regard, there will be no marriage, norshould there be. I do not believe you will lose my regard, my lady, but if you did, a marriage between us would be a mistake. If you prefer another suitor, then I wish you the very best.”
“How delightful,” Lady Beatrice commented. “A trial of my very own.”
For a moment, Alaric was concerned his frankness had offended her. He was relieved to see her chuckling. Just in case, he added, “I do not mean any offense, my lady.”
“None taken, Mr. Redhaven. I find your honesty refreshing, as well as your trust in my…” she paused a moment, “my intellect. In spite of the fact that I am a woman.” She pursed her lips in a scowl that didn’t fail to be pretty. Alaric reminded himself to focus on that intellect and not allow himself to be distracted by her appearance, for that would set him apart from the other suitors. “Let me read this clue, then tell me what you are looking for.Hmm.Yes, I see why you are looking at sundials. Or clocks, perhaps?”
“The first couplet seems to say that, when things are boring, you’ll sleep,” Alaric offered. “That is, assuming the son of night refers to the god of sleep in the Greek pantheon.”
“When time drags. Yes, I see. But what of the second?”
Alaric had no idea and said so. “I am hoping something will occur to me when I see the correct sundial. Or clock. As you said, it could be a clock.”
Such a moment of epiphany did not occur with either of the sundials they were able to examine before they needed to go to the north lawn, where the archery butts were set up and some of the other guests were already selecting their bows.
On the other hand, Alaric had, he thought, made significant strides in winning Lady Beatrice’s esteem.
Chapter Seven
Mr. Redhaven wasexcellent company. Bea enjoyed her walk with him and was flattered he had taken her into his confidence. Now on the range, she discovered he was a competent archer, but not as good as some of the others. They had split into heats this time, since there were more competitors, and Mr. Redhaven was knocked out in the second heat.
He then joined the onlookers and spent the remainder of the match cheering impartially for whoever struck the targets, and making light conversation. Charming conversation, but since he spread his charm equitably amongst all the ladies, and never trespassed into flirting nor gave a compliment that wasn’t true, Bea acquitted him of insincerity.
She wondered about the story he had told over lunch. Trust Beverley to try to make trouble for one of his rivals. He would have done himself no favors with her father! Papa, she knew, was seeing the entire house party as part of his trials. And, unless she was very much mistaken, every servant in the castle—no, probably every inhabitant of the island—would be reporting back to Papa on how the suitors behaved when not under Papa’s eye.
Which was frequently. With the excuse that he was busy with his duties to Claddach, Papa spent much of his time sleeping, presumably in his study, for he had not yet shared theseriousness of his condition with Mama. The situation made her sad, and she turned her attention back to the archery.
Her cousin Beverley was predictably patronizing to the other archers, particularly the women. When someone else shot better than he did, he muttered under his breath and scowled. At least he was less vocal about his irritation than Sir Henry, who once again had all sorts of reasons why his shots had been impaired by some factor beyond his control.
Lord Lucas won, with Lady Eleanor running a close second. “As winner,” he declared, “I beg a boon of the ladies. Will you walk along the cliffs with me? Perhaps to the beach? We have plenty of time before dinner, do we not, Lady Claddach?” His eyes were on Lady Eleanor, who smiled and blushed.Why is Lord Lucas courting me, when he is clearly taken with Eleanor?
Mama said, “Yes, of course, Lord Lucas. Beatrice, dear, you would love to walk with Lord Lucas, would you not?”
Bea could have laughed at Lord Lucas’s expression. The poor man. She took pity on it. “We shall all go,” she proposed. “Or, at least, anyone who is interested?” She looked around at the young ladies, and then the gentlemen, most of whom were nodding.
So, it was quite a large group that set off down the cliff path to the beach. Bea had time to have a quiet private word with Mr. Redhaven before they left. “I cannot show you the other items you wanted to see, Mr. Redhaven. Do you know where to find them?”
He nodded. “I do, my lady.”
But when she saw him in the drawing room before dinner, he reported he’d not found anything to help in his hunt. “Perhaps it is right in front of me, and I cannot see it,” he fretted. He had more to say, she could tell, but he would not speak where they could be overheard.
It suddenly occurred to her to wonder if some of the others would make her their confidant. She hoped not. It would be tooawkward to keep track of which man had told her what idea. On the other hand, perhaps they did not all have the same clue. She had not seen any of the others examining clocks or sundials.
Mama had paired her tonight with Sir Henry Dashwood. She allowed him to escort her into dinner and prepared to be bored.
*
Bea woke toanother splendid day, which promised well for the day’s activity. Papa had planned a steeplechase—a horse race in which the riders would travel cross-country, choosing their own path, from village to village around the island, using church steeples as their guide point. Those who did not choose to compete could travel from lookout to lookout, watching progress, or could remain in the town to amuse themselves and receive the racers when they returned to the town square, which was both starting and finishing point for the race.
“My riding habit, Eunys,” she told her maid.
“You are never competing, my lady!” Eunys exclaimed.
