Page 17 of Defying the Earl
“And I’ll be importuned by every other gentleman who thinks I’m available for pursuit,” she retorted sharply before hot colour splashed across her face, quickly followed by a dangerous looking pallor.
“I really am sorry,” Nathan murmured. He wasn’t in the habit of apologizing so much but it was obvious the occasion called for it. He certainly wasn’t accustomed to having cause for apologies. He acknowledged he had truly wronged the girl by allowing himself to be drawn into that wretched wager.
He wasn’t sure what to make of her shrug. Did she truly not care about the situation or was she trying to make light of it?
“I might decide marriage is the right direction for me to take after all, so it shan’t be such a dreadful inconvenience as I had originally thought. Without your interference, any potential suitors have been rare and singular. Now, it is likely there will be at least a few at once, which will be both diverting and disconcerting but I might find I will actually consider wedding with one of them.”
Nathan ignored the sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. He ought to be glad for her. Wasn’t it every woman’s destiny to wed? If he could help her to marry into better circumstances, he should be glad of that both for her and even for himself as he would no longer be required to concern himself about her future. He would be sure to take a stronger hand in his aunts’ choice of a future companion to replace Bea.
Come to think of it, why did his aunts even have a companion? Surely, they were company enough for each other. Couldn’t they hire an extra maid or footman if they needed someone to run their errands for them?
Chapter Nine
The rest of their drive passed in near silence as Bea expended all her energy in an effort not to fidget on the seat next to the earl. She had grown accustomed to the high perch during their time in the Park but when they returned to the traffic of the streets, it was again very evident to her just how unsafe the vehicle felt to someone used to being on her own two feet.
When they pulled up in front of Lady Frampton’s townhouse, Bea’s laugh that was supposed to be light and carefree sounded a little shaky.
“Perhaps we could walk the next time,” she suggested.
“Were you nervous?” Braxton sounded incredulous.
“I’ve never been in a phaeton before, my lord,” she answered stiffly.
“You ought to have said; I could have gone slower,” Braxton reprimanded her, causing Bea to stiffen even further.
“Thank you for the excursion, my lord.” She didn’t even try not to sound cool, but he didn’t indicate that he had noticed as he hurried around the spindly carriage to help her down.
Bea wished a servant had come out to assist her. The precarious nature of the vehicle required that she accept theearl’s help, but she had no desire to be so close to him. With how high up she was, she would very nearly have to slide down his entire body.
Her own body betrayed her.
Bea’s breath caught in her throat. Her emotions, already in tumult from the anxiety associated with spending time with Braxton because of the wager and sham courtship as well as their past, added to her unsettled thoughts about others turning up to try to court her when all this ended, were unprepared for being in full contact with the handsome gentleman.
Lord Braxton’s hands were warm, bordering on hot even through the many layers of her garments, where they rested upon her waist. He lifted her down as though she weighed no more than a pillow of goose down. It was the most delicious sensation and it nearly turned her head.
Which was why she fought the intense desire to run up to her room and weep. But Beatrice put steel into her spine so she didn’t droop as soon as her feet touched the ground, and she stepped back and away from the gentleman before her. A sense of accomplishment swept through her when her curtsy turned out perfect despite the weakness in her limbs.
“Shall I call again tomorrow?” he asked in a low voice as she stared up at him uncertainly.
“Tomorrow?” Bea was aghast. She thought she would have more time to prepare herself. Perhaps a month or two would be sufficient. She bit her lip to stem the unwelcome amusement at her perverse thoughts.
“Did you have other plans? You did say I shouldn’t let the grass grow,” he reminded her with a grin that made her head swim slightly.
“I ought to check with the Ladies, but since they were in full support of this arrangement, I don’t suppose they will mind overmuch. Is that a usual interval, do you suppose? If a couple were truly courting, I suppose they would wish to see each other as often as possible, wouldn’t they?” Bea sighed and glanced up at the door where a servant had finally arrived to hold it open for her. “Very well, if that is convenient for you, my lord.” She dipped another little curtsy.
“I will drive a different carriage,” he assured her with laughter dancing in his voice as he bent over her hand. Another shiver tingled up her arm and down her spine. Bea wanted to shake her head to rid herself of the ridiculous sensation but controlled the betraying urge.
Without further exchange, Beatrice flitted up the stairs and into the house where the Ladies were waiting for her.
“Come in here, Beatrice,” Lady Frampton called from the receiving room, causing Bea to jump with surprise and hurry to do the lady’s bidding.
Normally Beatrice loved the front receiving room. It was papered in a creamy yellow that she found most soothing and it was often bathed in light despite the many buildings and trees surrounding them. She wanted to drag her feet to slow her entry this time though. It was the recounting she was dreading. Surely Lady Frampton and Lady Charlotte would want to hear all about her outing. Bea stifled her sigh. There was nothing for it, she would have to tell them. But what was there to tell?
“Well, girl?” Lady Frampton began, staring at her assessingly. “How was the drive? You appear a trifle windblown. Did that boy drive like one of these modern maniacs?”
Bea appreciated the amusement that surged through her at the question. She thought the earl was a trifle stuffy, not atall modern. But she couldn’t comment on her appearance as she hadn’t even glanced into a looking glass. Her hand rose involuntarily to see how unruly her hair had become. Heat stole into her cheeks. There were no untoward reasons for her to have become dishevelled and she would surely die from the embarrassment if the Ladies were to think so.
“Never mind your hair, Bea, tell us everything,” Lady Charlotte prompted. “Who did you see? Did anyone talk to you? Did others notice who you were with?”
