Page 41 of A Lovely White Christmastide
“I overheard your sister speaking to Kaye about it. The way she spoke it seemed all but done. For a man who is frightened of losing someone by natural causes, would he not be more circumspect with another woman’s life?”
The logical argument made it hard not to divulge what Beth knew was the real reason behind her father’s hesitance.
She sighed. “There was also the scandal three years ago after Edward.”
“Scandal? But I thought you said you were not promised to him.”
“Yes, but the whole neighborhood had seen us together for years. Everyone expected our marriage. Then Edward went to London on a business trip and came back married.”
Carswell’s face darkened. “He did not even inform you of his change of heart?”
She shook her head.
“The blackguard.”
The rumble of the carriage wheels changed as they entered Kendal. A warm glow from the house windows penetrated the dark night, but their light was nothing compared to the large marble hall they approached.
“Is it not a splendid assembly hall?” Beth was grateful to change the subject.
Carswell peered out the window. “It is.” A moment of silence descended between them, then he reached out and took her hand. “That scandal was not your fault, whether your father believes it or not. Do not let it keep you from happiness.”
Mist clouded her vision. She’d carried the guilt for so long, believing somehow it was her fault Edward had stopped loving her. But Carswell was right. Edward had made that choice, not her.
She squeezed his left hand. “Thank you.”
“Do not thank me. I am only speaking the truth.”
The carriage came to a stop and Beth had the urge to do something entirely out of her character. Before she could think better of it, she leaned forward and kissed Carswell on the cheek. He leaned back, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.
The door opened and she quickly dropped Carswell’s hand, not sure if the surprise she’d witnessed was a good or bad thing. Either way, she’d done it. She’d been brave and it felt good.
Chapter Twelve
Skirts swirled, feet stomped, hands clapped… Carswell frowned. Hands clapped. The very motion used to be second nature to him, but now the thought of trying to clap made his stomach churn. He’d look like a fool out there. What had possessed him to think a ball would be a good idea?
He tugged at one side of his waistcoat and then the other but it still did not seem to hang straight. A low growl rumbled in the back of his throat. An elderly woman with more wrinkles than hairs on her head glanced at him. He needed to remove himself before his foul mood ruined the night for the others.
The assembly hall had only a few rooms off the main area and all were filled with people that were either playing cards or trying to find a moment away from the larger crowd. Not wanting to converse with anyone, he retrieved his greatcoat and exited out a back door that led to a small frozen garden.
The frigid air of December slapped him in the face, making him wonder if he’d made the right choice. The quiet was nice, though. Out in the cold he did not have to think about his own inabilities on the dance floor.
Stomping his feet, he tried to warm his legs. At least they still worked, that was something to be grateful for. Other men had not been so lucky.
“Carswell?”
He spun to find Beth, her cloak in place, standing near a hedge of holly. “Why are you not dancing?”
Not having anything else to organize, he straightened his hat and checked the position of his cravat.
She glanced at the ground, her cheeks rosy from the cold. “Please do not be upset, but you appear distressed. I thought you might like to talk… instead of dance.”
He grasped the wrist of his right hand behind his back. How had she deduced the crux of his problem so quickly? His gaze swept over her. Then again, he should not have been surprised by her intuition. It had been evident in every interaction they had ever had.
Beth Haynes had a tender heart. One that led her to care for all those around her, even a grumpy captain turned lord who felt sorry for himself.
A slow smile curved the edges of his lips. “I would love to dance with you.”
She tipped her head, her arms wrapping her cloak tightly about her. “Then why did you not ask? I would have gladly stood up with you in the ballroom.”
