Page 40 of Defying the Earl
“Ah yes, good question, my lady.” Lord Henley seemed relieved by her question and quickly launched into a long speech about sheep and wool and tenant farmers. Bea did find it interesting but hadn’t expected him to be quite so informative. It was a relief.
“It sounds to me as though you enjoy being there.”
“Most definitely,” he answered sincerely. “It’s situated so perfectly, I almost can’t believe someone more powerful didn’t steal it from my ancestors. We’re near enough to the shore to be able to take advantage of shipping if we so wish. And the weather is quite excellent year-round there. And it’s not even terribly far to travel to London when Parliament is in session. I can eventake breaks from the social rounds and head home from time to time if there doesn’t seem to be anything terribly important in the House when I feel the urge.”
“Oh that does sound lovely,” Bea agreed as she strolled along beside him listening attentively. “So being in Town isn’t quite to your taste, then?”
“Not entirely,” he answered carefully before quickly adding, “Of course, if I had a wife, I might be helped to see the matter differently.”
Bea couldn’t help laughing although it sounded a little nervous even to her own ears.
Thankfully the conversation had done the job of relaxing them enough that they could return to the carriage and drive back to Lady Frampton’s townhouse in comfortable charity with one another. Bea took her leave of Lord Henley as quickly as she could with the promise of his return the next day.
Without stopping to speak with Lady Frampton or Lady Charlotte, Beatrice ran up the stairs to her bedroom and threw herself on the bed, muffling the sobs that wracked her with her pillow.
How was she to decide her future? Why would her silly heart want Lord Braxton when the perfectly acceptable Lord Henley was willing to offer for her? Why couldn’t she see that not being in love was far preferable to getting her heart trampled upon? Why couldn’t her heart warm toward the very sweet viscount? Was she so perverse as to want to court pain? Surely it couldn’t be just because Braxton was far more handsome than Henley. Lord Henley was far from ugly. If one hadn’t seen Lord Braxton, one might be excused for thinking Henley was even mildly good looking with his straight blond hair and light blue eyes. Hewasn’t given to fat and he still had most of his hair. And he was perfectly pleasant.
She was using the word perfectly too much. As though trying to compensate for a lack.
More tears flooded from her and she almost didn’t hear the knock at her door. Before she could tidy herself and see to the door, Lady Charlotte stuck her head through the gap she had made, opening the door.
“Beatrice Harrison, what is the meaning of this?” Lady Frampton demanded, pushing her sister out of the way and hurrying to the bed where Beatrice was struggling to sit up. “Did that bounder put you out of countenance? Ought we to send the footmen after him?”
“Not at all,” Beatrice returned immediately with a very watery chuckle. “He was all that was kind, I can assure you.”
“Then why are you crying, dear?” Lottie asked while Frampton harumphed as she sat on the bed beside the younger woman.
Bea bit her lip. She still didn’t know why she was crying. He was per— she cut the thought off. She needed to discuss the problem with her dear benefactrices.
Chapter Twenty
Nate read the note again, gaining as little understanding from it as he had the first two times he’d read his aunt’s letter. Obviously she had written it in a hurry, but it was written in the King’s English. He ought to be able to make sense of it.
Braxton,
I thought you were going to be less of an idiot than your father but I was mistaken. Our dear girl has received an offer. Do something.
Frampton
An offer? Did his aunt mean that Beatrice had received an offer of marriage?
Well, wasn’t that a good thing? Shouldn’t they all be happy? Frampton didn’t say that it was a bad offer. And yet she seemed irked to say the least. Do something? What did she think he ought to do about it besides congratulate Lady Beatrice?
Nathan chose to ignore the gaping pit that seemed to have opened in the bottom of his stomach at the thought of another man claiming Beatrice. He would lose the bet. That had been the plan all along. He should be thrilled that it had been accomplished without some big scene where they had to publiclyend their association. Not that they really had an association. Bea didn’t even consider them friends, Nathan reminded himself.
He was being foolish, just as his aunt accused him, for wishing to be even more than friends with Lady Beatrice. Never mind that she was beautiful and exceptional and he had even kissed her. She wasn’t for him.
And since he wasn’t yet ready to take a wife, he couldn’t begrudge Bea to someone else. It was time for the poor girl to wed. Not that she was so terribly old, but if she was already with his aunts for four years now she had to be getting along in years, surely. It would be good for her to marry and have a family of her own.
Immediately an image of Beatrice holding a small infant filled his imagination, and Nathan was shocked to realize he wanted the child she was holding to be his.
With a sound of disgust, Nathan shoved the unwelcome thought from his mind. Beatrice was not the sort of wife he would need when it was time for him to wed. Her certainly couldn’t have developed warmer feelings toward her during this silly fake courtship. He wouldn’t be so foolish, despite the evidence to the contrary. No way was he in love with the girl. It was merely the fact that he was unused to playacting. It was likely that his subconscious had thought it was all real. He would be happy for her on the morrow.
In the meantime, he didn’t have a response for his aunt, but he really didn’t owe her one. His aunt was fully capable of leading her own life. He needn’t jump at her every whim. And certainly not in connection with her paid companion.
Nathan had been busy that day and hadn’t called on Beatrice as he’d planned. He had been tied up meeting with FosterNorthcott about taking over his mission in Canada. How fortuitous that Mr. Northcott and his wife were planning to travel there for Foster’s own assignment. It would add little inconvenience for them to see to both matters at the same time.
And now it would seem he needn’t worry about the situation with Beatrice any longer. He supposed he ought to ensure she had accepted the offer before he considered himself completely off the hook. In either case, he needed to remember to tell his stable hands to be prepared to hand over the pair of horses that Douglas was about to win from his loss of the ridiculous wager. He insisted to himself that the sense of deep loss he was experiencing was the thought of losing the blasted horses, not the thought of losing out on Lady Beatrice
