Matchmaking the Marquess (The League of Eligible Bachelors #3)

Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty-Four

Ben fastened his greatcoat, watching all the guests as they prepared for the short walk to St. Catherine’s Church. He glanced out the window at the large drops of rain splattering against the window. This is when he wished Tweed’s chapel was not in ruins. Perhaps it was time to restore it and put it to use again. But those plans would not help him then.

He pulled on his gloves. People jostled about as they finished readying themselves. Arms and limbs jerked out in all directions. It was rather comical if one stopped to watch.

Ben flicked his eyes down the corridor. Mia had yet to appear.

She stepped off the stairs as if his thoughts had summoned her, walking quickly down the corridor. But as everyone else was busy with their own preparations, no one seemed to notice.

Hastings anticipated her and held out her pelisse for her to step into.

“Cutting it close, are you not, dearest?” A cough cut short her father’s gentle rebuke.

She narrowed her eyes at her father, studying him closely. “Begging your pardon, Papa. I slept most dreadfully. I believe it was nearly sunrise when my eyes finally drifted shut.” There was a frantic sort of tone in her voice. “Papa?” Her father turned and moved deeper into the group, his cough clear as a bell.

Ben placed a hand on her arm. “Calm yourself. The others can go on ahead. We can travel in my carriage and meet them there.”

Was she anxious about being late or her father’s cough? He could not imagine she would be flustered simply because she was a few minutes late. Or perhaps it was something else entirely. She was certainly not looking forward to attending services with such a large crowd. Whenever a group swelled to more than a handful of people, Mia seemed to retreat. If she could not leave physically, her mind went elsewhere. It was one reason she had so detested her one Season. London was notorious for its crushes.

Even now, her gaze flitted around the entryway at all the people gathered. Her breath as frenzied as her tone had been.

But her gaze always returned to her father. It was his cough then.

Ben noticed it while the men were drinking their port after dinner last evening. Lord Minton had managed to conceal it once they joined the ladies, but he must not be able to do so anymore. That was not a good sign.

Mia closed her eyes as if gathering strength and then pasted on a decidedly false smile. “I am ready.” She said quietly to Ben as she tightened the string of her bonnet under her chin. Turning to the group, she went up on tiptoes. “If everyone would proceed to the carriages.” She motioned toward the front doors. “Make haste, please. We are behind schedule.”

Her father was the first out the door, a trail of people falling in behind him. Ben was surprised Mia had not pushed her way through the crowd to walk alongside him. It was strange. He always knew what she was thinking or what she would do. But in the last week, that had not been the case. And he found he did not like it one bit.

He moved alongside her. When they caught up with the crowd, waiting to push through the doorway, he put his hand on the small of her back. She flinched but then relaxed when she looked over her shoulder and their gazes connected. She gave him a tentative grin.

When they finally made it to the portico, Ben regretted having to leave the warmth of the house. The wind whipped the rain against their faces, stinging Ben’s eyes and cheeks, making him wish even more that he’d completed the renovations to the chapel at Tweed.

“Oh, Your Grace. I’ve been meaning to speak with you. You know Lord Kendal, do you not? Mr. Meecham and Lord Kendal met just last month on several matters of business.” Mrs. Meecham stood next to Rags, her chin raised in a superior manner.

“Indeed, I do the marquess. But he has never mentioned his acquaintance with you.” Rags moved to open his carriage door. “Not that I find such an oversight surprising.”

Mrs. Meecham huffed. “I’m certain it was an oversight. Or perhaps he did not know that we would become acquainted. Yes, I’m certain that is it.”

Rags looked down at the lady. “Ah, but you are mistaken, Madam. You see, we are not to become acquainted.” Rags swung up into the carriage and slammed the door shut.

Ben looked down at Mia.

She grimaced. “That was not kind of him.”

Ben nodded. “Yes, that was rather harsh. Even for Rags. “Although, I’m certain many wish they might speak so freely. The woman does seem to ruffle people's composure, does she not?”

Everyone else moved into the carriages in a rather efficient, if not hurried manner. Once everyone was inside, Ben called to the first carriage and set them all in motion. It would be a short trip. St. Catherine’s was not far. If the weather had been more cooperative, they would surely have walked.

The group arrived at St. Catherine’s with no incident. They pushed their way rather unceremoniously into the chancel, stomping their feet and shaking their coats of the rain.

Mia led the group into the nave and pointed people into the pews available, saving the Chadwick bench for herself and her father—and anyone else she deemed worthy to sit with them. Ben watched to see just who met the qualifications.

Lady Cornfeld sidled in next to Lord Minton. Ben stood back to watch. This should prove diverting, he thought.

Mia paused for a moment and stared, but at the clearing of old Mrs. Monroe’s throat, four rows back, Mia continued her herding process. Her gaze did return frequently to her father and Lady Cornfeld.

Lady Charlotte and Miss Newsome were directed to the row across the aisle from the Chadwick pew, along with Lady Grenville and Mrs. Ludlum. The two Meecham sisters were the last to squeeze in.

Ben raised a brow. Why had they not just sat with their parents? Or at least one of the girls? There was ample space in that row. Curious.

Miss Cartwright had found her parents and sat with them, rather than those attending the party.

Mr. Lamb, it seemed, considered himself enough of a Chadwick to sit on the family bench, settling in next to Lady Cornfeld. Mia did not argue. Only the slight quirk of her brow showed her true feelings.

She stared at the two interlopers, her mouth working furiously. Would she risk the scandal and call them both out?

Ben grinned as he settled back on his heels, waiting for the show to begin. He had to admit, he was just as curious as Mia about Lady Cornfeld’s sudden interest in Lord Minton. She was at least twenty years his junior, perhaps closer to twenty-five. Although, there had been at least that much of an age difference between her and her first two husbands. Perhaps she just preferred older men—or older men’s money.

Ben shook it off. It was only church. It could be she just did not wish to sit next to Sir Andrew—a point he could not argue with.

“Come, Ben, you take the aisle seat so I may sit next to my father.”

Ben looked at the row. Was she to reposition everyone so she might sit next to her father?

Lord Minton, surely knowing his daughter’s intentions, shook his head. “Sit down, Amelia. The vicar is waiting on you.”

“Perhaps you have room for me also?” Cort squeezed past her and settled onto the bench next to Mr. Lamb.

Mia looked from him to Ben and back again. “There is little space left. I suppose I have little choice,” she muttered. “Why don’t you move in first? If I’m not to sit by my father, I should prefer the aisle.”

Cort reached out his hand and grabbed her wrist. “Sit here, my lady.” He pulled her down beside him. “Not to worry. I rarely bite. At least not in church.” He whispered rather loudly into her ear.

“I can’t hear the shags,” she said pointedly over her shoulder.

Ben shrugged as the vicar stood and looked mildly annoyed at them

Cort leaned over. “Perhaps I should clarify. I only bite when I’m provoked.” He winked. “But I’m certain you could provoke me.”

Ben guffawed but snapped his mouth shut at the glare from the vicar. What was Cort saying? It was completely inappropriate. Especially for church.

Mia’s face pinked prettily, but she scooted onto the bench and settled next to Cort.

Ben could not help but notice she kept a fair amount of space between her and Cort. That was a good sign, was it not?

As Ben lowered himself onto the bench, everyone shifted to make room. He sucked in an annoyed breath when Cort’s thigh push up against Mia’s. Something Ben could not help noticing Cort did not remedy.

He grumbled under his breath and looked straight ahead, his hand clasped tightly in his lap. Why had he not let Mia sit on the aisle?

Ben raked a hand over the back of his neck and forced himself to concentrate on the vicar. But from the corner of his eye, he caught every distracting movement Cort and Mia made. Had Cort just brushed Mia’s hand with his? What was that about? Was he acting untoward? Was he trying to hold Mia’s hand? Ben’s jaw worked furiously as he was certain Cort was.

Ben bristled, and his hands tightened in his lap.

Mia shifted, scooting closer to him. He lifted his arm and put it along the back of the bench. If Cort made any more untoward advances toward Mia, Ben would be in a position to put a stop to it.

Cort leaned into Mia and whispered something to her.

Ben lifted his hand and shoved his finger in Cort’s ear. Cort jerked up and leaned forward, casting Ben a cross look. He rubbed at his ear and looked straight ahead.

Ben grinned. He dropped his hand, resting it on Mia’s shoulder. She glanced at it, but did nothing to move it, so he left it there.

Cort looked at Mia and nodded. Ben punched him in the arm. He meant for it to be a light reminder for Cort to keep to himself. But Ben’s fist landed harder than he’d anticipated.

Cort rubbed at his arm and again leaned forward to eye Ben.

Mia looked over at him. She did not look angry, but she also did not look obliging. Was she vexed that he had been protecting her from Cort’s advances?

The whole church stood, and Ben looked around him. Why was everyone standing?

People moved out of the benches and down the aisles. He looked to the front and noticed the vicar moving toward the chancel to greet the members of his congregation. The service was over? Ben cringed. Lud, he’d missed the entire thing. He closed his eyes. Had he heard even a single word? The only thing he could recall was the vision of Cort holding Mia’s hand. Had it actually happened? Surely his mind could not conjure such a clear picture on its own.

Mia nudged him with her knee and nodded toward the aisle.

He stood, shuffling out of the bench.

The group filed out into the chancel, and Ben moved beside Mia just as Cort took her other elbow.

But Mia stepped away from them both.

“Excuse me, gentlemen. I must have a word with Mr. Miller.” Both men stared after her.

Ben crossed his arms over his chest. “It was rather tight on that bench. I hope it did not prevent you from listening to the sermon.”

“It didn’t bother me in the least. I found it rather enjoyable.” Cort lifted a hand to his shoulder. “Although, now that you mention it, my muscles are a little fatigued.” He raised a brow and flattened his lips.

“What are you about?” Ben hissed. He wasn’t sure what was going on with Cort. The man had never shown the least bit of interest in one lady over another. And now that he did, it had to be Mia?

Ben had always believed—even if Mia did not—that she would come to her senses and marry one day. Should he not be happy that it was his best friend? Would that not make things easier when they were all together? But no matter what he told himself, he could not stop feeling as if a knife plunged into his gut and twisted painfully.

Mia and the vicar talked quietly off to the side. She smiled and looked perfectly amiable as she pressed a small bag into his hand. Ben wondered what they spoke about. He could not hear the words, but he could read some words from the man’s lips. He was thanking her. But for what?

Ben glanced over at Cort. He was watching the exchange with a similar expression to Ben.

Ben looked to his other side and found Charlie standing next to him.

They watched Mia silently as she pulled away from the vicar and milled about the crowd, curtsying and smiling her stiff smile. She said as few words as possible to those she could not avoid.

Ben could see the anxiousness in her stance—the tightness in her shoulders and neck. “She doesn’t look happy to speak to people, does she?” Charlie asked.

“Just because she does not prattle on like a child does not mean she does not have a kind nature.” Ben grunted and folded his arms tighter across his chest.

“I never said she wasn’t kind. Just that she didn’t look happy.” Charlie defended.

“You haven’t discovered those things that make her happy, that’s all.” Ben directed that comment to Cort.

Cort clucked his tongue. “Now that would be something worth discovering.”

“It takes time, Cort.” Ben snapped. “It’s not something to be discovered over afternoon tea or the length of a house party.”

“Perhaps you could assist me?” He said it as if there was no question about the response. “You know her better than anyone.”

Ben felt his irritation rise anew. Had he not missed the sermon because of this man’s antics and now he wanted Ben to instruct him on how to gain Mia’s affections? It was beyond the pale.

He swallowed. But how could he decline without enduring a boatload of questions from Cort? “We have been friends for…forever. Sometimes I think I know her even better than she knows herself.” Ben’s voice lowered almost to a whisper. He watched her, unable to pull his gaze away.

“Then you are just the man to help me.” Cort thumped Ben on the back, bringing him back to their conversation.

Ben looked at his friend. Could he help Cort? He offered a weak grin. “Are you in earnest?”

Cort frowned. “Do I plan to offer for her? I do not know her well enough to make that decision. But must I decide at this moment?”

Ben frowned.

Mia separated herself from the crowd of people and moved toward them. “Ben, I am spent. May we return to the house?”

Cort extended his arm to her. “I believe my carriage is closer.”

She looked at Ben. Did she want him to intervene?

“The shags have been quiet this morning.” Her gaze bore into Ben.

He smiled and stepped closer to her, cupping her elbow. “I won her trinket, Cort. I think it only fair I drive her back.” He happily guided her away before Cort objected.