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

Chapter 30

Chapter Thirty

Mia and Penny hung the last curtain on the makeshift stage. They’d found some old Roman columns in the attics and several other decorations. Most needed a coat of paint, but Mia didn’t have time for such things. And besides, the curtains hid the worst of it.

She stood back and put her hands on her hips as she looked at their work. It would never rival a real theatrical production, but Mia was fairly certain the actors wouldn’t either. So all was well.

“This is it, then?” Ben said at her side.

She closed her eyes and took in a quiet but steadying breath. She looked at him through side eyes, studying him for a moment. He looked tired. More so than she’d seen him in a long time. Not since his father had taken ill all those years ago. “Yes. It’s a bit ramble-scramble, but it will do.” She took several steps away from him.

“Did you see the message I left for you on the beach?”

Mia dropped her eyes. Of course, she’d seen his message. One would have to be blind to have missed it. There had been great speculation among the group as to what it meant.

“I did. But who was it meant for? I confess I had no notion what it meant.” She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, hoping he believed her lie. She knew where it came from. She remembered it like it was yesterday. The argument they’d had when he left for the beach without her.

It was not completely a lie, though. While she knew where the phrase came from, she was uncertain what it meant. Had he simply meant he’d wait for her after the walk? Or was there a deeper meaning? In the last few days, their relationship had changed, and she found herself confused and questioning everything Ben said and did.

His deep breath was thunderous in the quiet room. “Mia, are you avoiding me?” He retook the steps she’d given up.

“No.” She let out a false laugh. She need not tell him every thought or emotion she had. “Why should you think I am?”

He folded his arms. “Foremost, because you divided the groups and made us each a leader. I had thought we would go together.” He sighed. “And then I understand you’ve accepted Cort’s invitation for tea at Tweed. You’ve not had tea with me at Tweed in months.” He sounded very much like a peevish little boy.

“It’s chocolate, actually,” she corrected.

He sighed. “Tea—chocolate. Does it matter? He did not invite any of the other guests for tea. Nor any of the gents. You know what that means, do you not?”

“It’s chocolate, ” Mia emphasized with more volume than was necessary—as if that changed the meaning of the invitation. She folded her arms and lifted her eyes but only looked as far as the dimple in his chin. “I did not agree to meet him for several days. And I only agreed so I might tell him there will be no agreement—that I never plan to marry.” She folded her arms and glared at him. Not that it was any of his business. “I thought the more intimate setting would be the kinder place to tell him. I do not wish for any gossip to start.” Her brow furrowed. “I should think you would appreciate the kindness I’m showing towards your friend.”

“You are too late to stop the gossip,” Ben scoffed. “I’ve heard talk that a proposal is expected by the party’s end.”

“Then they will be disappointed.” She huffed, but the anger left her quickly only to be replaced by fatigue. “It’s no fault of mine. I’ve done nothing to encourage him. Indeed, he’s the one I’ve been avoiding—to little avail.” She frowned.

Ben slightly relaxed. “Then you are not interested in him?”

Her head shook at the ridiculousness of the question. How could he ask that after she’d returned his kiss? After she’d clung to him as if he were a lifeboat in a turbulent sea? “Of course not. I have told you countless times that I do not wish to marry .” She enunciated the last four words, each one piercing her heart and taking away her breath. “I do not intend to change my mind, even for your friend, Lord Montcort.”

“If you are not avoiding me because you have feelings for Cort, then what is it? Why are you dodging me?” He moved, standing directly in front of her. “Why could we not do the tour together?”

She scoffed. “Who would have led the second group if you and I stayed together? It is not as if anyone else knows as much about the estates and their history.”

“But why split into two groups at all? It would have changed nothing if we’d all stayed together.” He raked a hand over the back of his neck. “If it’s about yesterday…while we were fencing…” He paused.

She stood up straight and looked around them to ensure they were alone—except for Katie. But unfortunately, she already knew about the kiss. “Why should I avoid you because of yesterday?” she hissed. She sucked in a hasty breath and continued. “We both know it meant nothing and was a mistake. I think it best if we simply pretend that it never happened.”

His head snapped back as if she had slapped him. “It was a mistake?”

She barked out a laugh that sounded more hysterical than comical. “Most certainly. Do you not agree?”

He cleared his throat and coughed. “Of…of course. It was a mistake. I simply wished to make certain you thought it a mistake too.” His voice was dull and quiet.

She smiled, the knife already piercing her heart twisted. She had known he had not meant it, but hearing the words was more painful than she’d imagined.

He clasped his hands behind his back and rocked back on his heels. His jaw worked, but he said nothing as they stared at the stage.

The silence became suffocating. “Do you know your lines for tonight?” she asked.

Ben nodded, but he did not turn to look at her. Was he embarrassed she had read his feelings so well? He turned toward the door. “But it would do me no harm to look over them again. I would hate to embarrass myself in front of the guests tonight.” He strode away from her, never looking back.

“Just remember, it’s all in fun,” she called after him.

He lifted a hand. But that was all the acknowledgment she received.

“Fun, indeed,” she grumbled. Why had she not just planned another evening of cards?

Katie slipped the gold-colored gown over Mia’s head and fastened the buttons up the back.

Mia looked down at the front of her. It was a lovely gown. Slightly more formal than a normal dinner dress but less formal than a ball gown. It seemed appropriate for her theatrical debut—as short-lived as it would be.

Katie fixed the few hairs that had gone astray, then backed away and smiled. “You look very handsome tonight, my lady.”

Mia sighed, uncomfortable with the praise. Her mother had given it so unwillingly that Mia found it difficult to accept it from others. “Thank you, Katie. But it is just dinner and a theatrical. It is not as if it is the ball.”

She frowned. The ball. It was likely the only night she dreaded more than this one. What if Lord Montcort proposed? What if Ben were still angry at her and did not ask her to dance even once? What if the weather turned and forced all the guests to stay on for another week? She pushed down the panic growing in her chest.

“Have an enjoyable evening, miss,” Katie said as she dipped down to retrieve several discarded items.

“I shall try.” She could not muster the appropriate excitement. “But I am going to check on my father first. He sent a note informing me he will take a tray in his room and shall not be performing or attending this evening.” She tsked. “I knew he was sick.”

“Blake said he does not look worse of the wear.” Katie lifted her brows but pressed her lips together, showing she knew more than she was telling Mia.

“What else did Blake say, Katie?”

Katie shook her head. “I do not spread gossip, my lady. I try not to even listen to it. But Blake shared with a few of us who waited for trays after breakfast.”

“But I’m your mistress,” she put her hands on her hips. “You can tell me. Especially if it concerns my father’s health.”

“Blake did not seem concerned about your father’s health.”

Then it was something else? Mia relaxed slightly. “If it is not about his health, then what is it?”

Katie shook her head. “I’m sorry, my lady. If I tell you this, you will never trust me to keep your secrets.”

Mia narrowed her eyes at her maid. She was right. Mia would question Katie’s discretion from that point on if she shared what she’d heard. She sighed but nodded. “Thank you, Katie. You are very trustworthy—which is rather vexing sometimes.”

Katie bobbed a curtsy and hurried into the dressing room.

Mia hurried to see her father. And perhaps learn of the secret for herself.

Her father’s door was open, and Mia hurried inside. “Papa,” she pulled up short when she saw Lady Cornfeld perched on the chair beside her father’s bed. “Lady Cornfeld. What are you doing here?” Mia glanced around the room, noting there was no one present acting as a chaperone.

As if reading her mind, Lady Cornfeld waved her hand in the air. “It’s the benefit of being a widow. I need not worry overly about things like chaperones.”

“Perhaps it was my father I was worried about,” Mia said through clenched teeth. Her false smile stretched so tight, it made her face hurt.

“I knew you were much too busy acting as hostess to be prevailed upon to help your father.” The woman leaned forward and patted Mia’s father’s head with a cloth.

For his part, her father looked perfectly amiable with the situation. Was he delirious? Had a fever pushed him to near bedlam? Why had Blake not told Katie about the fever? Or Lady Cornfeld, for that matter?

But her father did not look mad.

Mia pulled in a breath. Then it was Lady Cornfeld. That was the information Katie had held back from Mia. She closed her eyes in mortification as she thought about what people would say—what they were already saying. Did people believe Lady Cornfeld was soon to be Lady Minton? It would be a step up in society for her, as the widow of only a viscount. She seemed to improve her station with each husband she took. The first was a baron. To secure an earl would certainly be a feather in her cap.

Mia averted her gaze from the woman with a fair amount of difficulty. She hovered over Mia’s father like a nursemaid. “I received your note, Papa. Are you certain you cannot make it to dinner at the very least?”

He smiled. “I should have thought you’d be happy I have taken to my bed. Is that not what you always tell me I should do?”

She bit the side of her cheek to keep from snapping at him. “I only want you to be well.” She put a hand to his forehead. “Your color is good, and you do not seem to have a fever.”

He coughed, and she confessed it did not sound good. It rattled in his chest.

“Perhaps if I’m feeling up to it, I shall come down to watch the theatrical.” He wiped at the side of his mouth with a handkerchief. “But I think I’m too ill to perform.”

Mia nodded. “You need not perform if you are not feeling up to it.” She smiled at him and placed a hand over his. “I’ll send for a tray.”

He shook his head. “No need. Sophronia already arranged for us both to have trays.”

“Oh?” Mia’s brows rose. “Lady Cornfeld, you will not be joining us for dinner?”

She smiled, and Mia almost believed she was sincere. “I thought your father might wish for company. I’m certain it is lonely being away from all the guests.”

Mia did not know what to say. While the woman was at least seven or eight years older than Mia, she was still too young for Mia’s father. Had not the lady’s previous husbands also been old men? Did she collect them? Lady Cornfeld would not be collecting her father if Mia had anything to do with it. “Very well. I suppose there is nothing left for me to do.”

He looked up at her. Even with his illness, he looked younger than he had in years.

Mia’s jaw clenched.

He patted her hand. “Go enjoy your guests. I shall do my best to come see you in the theatrical.”

She nodded. “Very well, Papa.” She bent over and kissed his cheek. “Send word to me if your cough worsens. Ben can play host if you need me.”

He shook his head. “Sophronia will take prodigious care of me. I’m certain of it.” He turned and smiled at Lady Cornfeld.

Mia put a hand to her stomach. She felt ill. Glancing at the clock, she reluctantly moved around the bed toward the door. Drat all these guests needing her attention. Don’t they know her father needs rescuing?

As everyone rose from the table, Mia cleared her throat loudly to get everyone’s attention. “I think it best if the gentlemen join the ladies straight away. There are many participating in the theatrical this evening. We should start as soon as possible.”

Mia flicked a glance at Ben but looked away when he caught her. “That seems best.” He smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. He was still angry with her, then. What had happened to their friendship? If she’d known the party would be the ruination of her friendship with Ben, she’d never have agreed to it.

Cort elbowed his way over. “May I escort you into the hall, my lady, or has someone else spoken for you already?”

Mia blew a breath out through her clenched teeth. “I supposed, my lord. As you’ve given no one else a chance to ask, you are the first.”

He smiled and looked pleased with himself.

Everyone filed down the corridor and into the great hall. Chairs sat facing the stage she and Katie set up that afternoon. People picked their seats and settled in.

“Do we have a schedule for the order?” Lady Charlotte asked.

Mia nodded. Indeed, they did. She’d stayed up well into the night last evening writing it all out. It was another reason she was ready to quit this party altogether. Her hand still ached from the strain of it.

Several servants set about handing out the papers. She had put Ben and herself first, preferring to get it over with as soon as possible. The closing performance would have been her father and Lady Cornfeld. If Mia had been paying better attention, she might not have been so surprised by what she’d found in her father’s bedchamber. It seemed her scheme of using the beaver to choose partners had put her father in the path of a title hunter. She glanced over at Ben. And it had not worked out so well for her either.

“I think I shall sit next to my friend, Miss Cartwright.” She removed her hand from Lord Montcort’s arm and hurried away before he had time to object or offer a different plan. She moved into the row and settled in next to Franny.

“Oh, the Taming of the Shrew,” Franny squealed as she read the program. “I so love that one.” She turned to Mr. Lamb, her partner for the evening—and for several other activities Mia had noticed. “Perhaps we should have done a scene from that play.”

Mr. Lamb tipped his head to the side and smiled. “The scene we picked will be marvelous. Just wait and see.”

A giggle escaped her lips, and Mia’s brow rose. That was unexpected.

She looked around the room for Ben. What did he think of the Mr. Lamb and Franny situation? She sighed. She wished he were sitting next to her, rather than the few rows behind. They had so much to talk about. Besides Miss Cartwright and her cousin, there was her father and Lady Cornfeld. Did Ben even know about them? She thought it likely he did. But she wanted to know his opinion. Did he think there was a real affinity between them? She gave a little shiver at the thought.

She turned partially and caught his gaze. Gone was the smiling twinkle she nearly always saw there. Perhaps they were both ready for the party guests to leave. But then what?

Ben nodded to her, and she hopped up to introduce the theatrical and get the evening started.

“Thank you all for coming,” she said in a singsong voice she hoped hid her annoyance.

“As if we had a choice,” Rags said, his voice louder than a whisper but not his regular volume.

Mia’s feigned smile slipped. “Yes, well, I apologize for that.”

Ben shot a glare at his friend which made her feel slightly better.

She pressed on. “Lord Berwick and I will begin with a scene from The Taming of the Shrew by William Shakespeare.” She looked at him. He gave her a small smile, and she returned it. Even that little gesture gave her so much more confidence.

Ben met her on the stage, and they began their reading.

“Katherine and Petruchio are on their way to her father’s house.” He said by way of introduction. He pulled out a billowy hat with a feather sticking out of the side and placed it on his head.

Mia tipped her head to the side, a smile twitching at her lips. Where had he found that? They had not discussed costumes.

“Come on, i’ God’s name, once more toward our father’s. Good Lord, how bright and goodly shines the moon!” Ben lifted his arm and gazed up to the ceiling.

“The moon? The sun! It is not moonlight now.” Mia spoke the lines she’d rehearsed in her sleep.

He lifted a brow at her. “I say it is the moon that shines so bright.”

She shook her head. “I know it is the sun that shines so bright.”

“But thou are mistaken,” Ben said.

She froze. That line was not part of the scene. What was he doing?

“Must it not be by the moon or the star or whatever you list, else we shall not proceed to my father’s house?” Mia gave a version of his lines. Had he forgotten them?

Ben shook his head. “Perchance, the fault lies with me, or mayhap we both did err, and naught shall come of it. For beneath the sun’s bright eye or the moon’s pale gaze, deeds may seem as folly, though by the other’s light, they wear no shame.”

Mia blinked. What was he saying? That line was nothing close to what they had practiced or decided upon. Indeed, it sounded more like he was speaking about their kiss—or at least the conversation about it. How dare he bring it up in this public way?

She fisted her hands at her side. “Nay, my good lord. It was not simply the light of the other that made evident the mistake. Alas, the error bore its guilt the instant it was conceived.”

Ben rocked back and stared at her. Her cheeks warmed. Why had she said that? She did not mean it. Indeed, she did not completely think the kiss was a mistake. She had just wanted to put the notion forth before Ben did. Because he would. She knew he would. And it had to hurt less coming from her than him, did it not?

That blasted kiss had occupied nearly all her thoughts and made her wish things could be different. But even with all that, she would never wish it away. It was a moment that she would treasure. But she had just told him it should never have happened. And he looked wounded by it.

Her chest ached. She just wanted this scene to end. “And be it moon, or sun, or what you please. And if you please to call it a rush candle, henceforth I vow it shall be so for me.”

Ben’s stare bored into her. “I say it is the moon.”

Mia bit her lip to keep the tears that blurred her vision at bay. “I know it is the moon.”

“Nay, then you lie.” His voice was low, and Mia saw people leaning forward from the corner of her eye. “It is the blessèd sun.”

Mia shrugged. “Oft do we cloak the truth, not with malice, but in defense of our own souls, or to guard those we cherish.” She did not know if he would understand what she was saying, but it was the only way she could bring herself to come close to telling him the truth—the reason for telling him the kiss was a mistake. Because that was what this was all about, was it not? “God be blest, it is the blessèd sun. But sun it is not, when you say it is not, and the moon changes even as your mind. What you will have it named, even that it is, and so it shall be so for Katherine.”

They stood quietly staring at each other until applause sounded, breaking the spell they were under.

Ben and Mia both bowed and left the stage. As Mia walked to her seat, she heard whispered comments about their performance. “I must read that play again. I do not remember all those lines.” She would have laughed if it had not left her feeling so utterly stripped.

When they reached the row where Mia sat next to Franny, Ben dipped a bow to her, a soft smile curving his lips. Did that mean he understood what she had said? Did he forgive her?

She didn’t know what to make of it, but she hoped it signaled the end of their disagreement.