Chapter 5
Normanton House, the next morning.
Fontus sent a note to Dee delaying their ride. He claimed an urgent matter required his attention. Best not to put any explanation on paper. He would tell Dee all as soon as they could take that ride.
He’d been surprised at breakfast to find Lady Beatrix and her father had arrived the previous night.
Lady Somerville performed the introductions.
“I heard a great deal about you, young man, from your older brother. He seems to believe you have matured.” Sandrow’s stern expression indicated that he was not confident of Lovis’s assessment.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, finally, Lord Leigh.” Lady Beatrix’s frozen smile was even less welcoming than her father’s dubious greeting.
The idea of making peace with Sandrow while avoiding an engagement with the lady was daunting. Fontus prayed his diplomatic skills were sufficient. He owed Lovis that much. However, he believed telling the truth would embarrass Lady Beatrix and anger Sandrow.
The Earl slapped his daughter’s upper arm with the back of his hand.
She turned a furrowed brow on him.
“Your hand, daughter. Offer Lord Fontus your hand.”
She blushed and extended her gloved fingers.
Such an insensitive reminder shamed the father more than the daughter.
“I am, of course, delighted to meet you both,” Fontus lied and bowed over her hand. His lips grazed the material of her glove.
When he straightened her face was red.
“Perhaps I could escort you on a tour of the Somerville gardens after breakfast, Lady Beatrix?”
Mute, she looked to her father.
“Take your maid with you,” was the man’s terse approval. The earl turned and left, heading to the dining room without another word.
The lady’s head swiveled between her father and Fontus. Clearly, she did not know what was expected of her.
Fontus offered his arm. “May I escort you to breakfast?”
“I… uh… I suppose.” Gingerly she laid her palm on his forearm.
No cozy clasp around his elbow for her. Was her distaste for her brother’s killer so strong, or was she afraid? Angry or fearful, she must be feeling vulnerable, perhaps powerless. On their walk he would empathize and establish common ground. Then he would see where the conversation led.
Seating at breakfast was less formal than at other meals. Fontus led Beatrix to a chair beside her father. Then he chose a seat at the table’s opposite end.
He watched Lady Beatrix. She smiled and spoke easily to all.
She felt comfortable enough to converse with other guests.
Nonetheless, when she glanced at her father, she stiffened and immediately focused her gaze on the table before her.
The earl had not even noticed her attention.
He was deep in conversation with a gentleman on his other side.
Another late-night arrival? The man was unremarkable, brown hair, brown eyes, brown attire, a very simple cravat, and not a single gem or jewel in evidence.
Too much distance lay between them for any conversation, so Fontus turned to his hostess. “Who is the gentleman in brown?”
“Mr. George Froppin, a member of the Society of Friends. He champions causes of interest to Sir Peter. My husband is hoping to enlist Mr. Froppin’s aid with the wording of some legislation Peter wishes to present to Parliament.”
“Fascinating, I shall enjoy meeting him.” Cultivating varied people was a cornerstone of how Fontus believed diplomacy should be conducted. One never knew when a contact with someone, whose beliefs or culture differed from one’s own, might prove useful.
“Lady Aitken says you asked her daughter to ride with you later today.”
“I did,” he nodded. “However, something has arisen, and I let her know that unfortunately I had to postpone the ride.”
Lady Somerville’s gaze narrowed, and her smile turned sly. “Might that something be the arrival of Lord Sandrow and his daughter?”
“I see the duke has enlisted your aid in furthering my betrothal with Lady Beatrix.”
“It would foster peace between your families.”
Peace was good, but Fontus preferred Sandrow’s complete indifference. He could not propose marriage to Lady Beatrix when he already had a wife.
He suspected Lady Beatrix had as little wish to marry him as he did her.
Lady Somerville looked at him expectantly.
“Yes, a connection with Sandrow could create an environment to nurture peace.”
“You sound doubtful.”
“Any man on the cusp of proposing must have doubts, Lady Somerville.”
“Indeed. When your brother asked us to invite Sandrow and help you pursue a resolution to problems between your families, we were quite happy to assist. You must let me know, if I can do aught to aid with your courting.”
Fontus quailed at the thought but pasted on a smile. “I will certainly keep that in mind. For the present, Lady Beatrix has accepted my invitation to walk out among your roses after breakfast.”
“A splendid beginning. “Lady Somerville turned to the guest on her other side.
Fontus finished his meal at about the same time as Lady Beatrix rose to excuse herself. He managed to leave the room beside her.
“I will go up for my cloak,” she said as they lingered in the foyer.
“Nonsense.” He ordered over a footman. “Please go up and obtain Lady Beatrix’s bonnet and cloak. Tell her maid to join us.”
“Thank you.” Her lips formed the words, but her gaze was glacial. When the maid, cloak, and bonnet finally arrived, the lady sighed and allowed Fontus to help her.
“Come.” He held out his arm to her. “I know the shortest route to the rose gardens.”
Lady Beatrix ignored his arm in favor of clasping her maid’s hand.
He still intended to establish common ground with her, but her patent disapproval complicated the task.
As they entered the garden, the maid dropped back some, allowing them space to speak privately.
“You know why I am here?” Lady Beatrix stopped walking.
Fontus nodded but did not show his surprise that Lady Beatrix had taken the initiative.
“Indeed, Lady Beatrix. My brother informed me of his arrangement with your father.”
“That’s just it, the arrangement is with my father. No one asked me if I wanted to marry a murderer.” She punctuated the statement with the stamp of a foot. “No one consulted me as to whether or not I wished to marry.” A stronger stamp of that foot followed.
His head snapped backward. “I gather you find no favor in the idea.”
“I am not in favor of marriage. I saw what it did to my mother, and I will not permit that to happen to me.” She began to walk away.
He suppressed a sigh of relief and followed. The difficulty Lovis’s meddling had put him in might resolve itself.
“Why did you come to Normanton House then?”
“You’ve met my father.”
Fontus saw resignation in her eyes.
“Is your first impression of him as a gentle man?” she continued. “A man who considers the wishes of others?” Her tone was flat.
“To say otherwise would be rude.” He’d yet to find his footing with this enigmatic woman. Shy to the point of awkwardness in her father’s presence, she was much different without him.
“Even if it is the truth?” she asked.
Fontus decided to be as forthright with Lady Beatrix as she was with him. “My first impression of your father is that he is a forceful man who demands conformity from everyone he knows.”
“That is fair—kind even.” She stared off to the low stone wall separating the garden from the surrounding pastures and woodlands. “He only relents with people who are above him in station.”
“I see.” Her father made no attempt to hide his social ambitions. He shared directness with his daughter. However, Fontus believed she would not be pleased by the comparison. “So, my brother made an impression on Lord Sandrow.”
“Father was most eager to meet with the Duke of Leigh. When he realized what His Grace had in mind, he cagily thanked him, but said he must take time to consider what is best for my future.”
“Lovis would think that quite reasonable,” Fontus stated. He had some small hope now that his present marriage might not be a problem.
“Father sent word within the week, that he wished for you and I to meet before any announcement was made. Your brother suggested this event. No doubt he knew the invitation would please Father.”
“My brother is nothing if not observant. Your father might imagine himself canny. However, Lovis certainly expected just such a reaction and put the wheels in motion for the invitation to be sent before he received your father’s reply.”
“His Grace sounds like a very interesting man.” Her lips gave an upward twist before resuming their usual straight line.
“Many people find him so.” Now was not the time to explain that Lovis could be more demanding than Sandrow.
“What of yourself?” She queried
“Have you any other siblings?” He avoided her question, thinking to establish the common ground of difficult family. The moment he saw the color leave her cheeks; he regretted the question. Idiot, he cursed himself.
“No, you took care of that.”
Her tone chilled him.
“It is not enough, but I deeply regret the events that led to Vincent’s demise.”
“No,” she replied. “It is not enough.”
“However, I think I may be able to make a small gesture that could ease your sorrow, somewhat.” He tried for some humor.
“How?” Her nose twitched. She all but sniffed.
“I will happily accept your rejection of my proposal,” Fontus offered.
She smiled, quickly covering her mouth before revealing a face colder than before.
“I find that acceptable. However, my father will call you out if we do not wed. My refusal might be your death sentence.”
“Or his.”
Her jaw dropped. “Oh, I hadn’t thought of that. Father is a much more skilled marksman than Vincent.”
“I could attempt to refuse his challenge,” Fontus offered.
“And be branded a coward? I hear you embark on a promising diplomatic career. What will happen to that? A coward can hardly be an effective negotiator.”
He’d known she was much smarter than the ton branded her.
“I see your point. Lovis is the one who created this conundrum. We must enlist him to resolve it.” Fontus was not at all sure the duke would want to help.
You will never learn responsibility as long as I continue to support you. Henceforth you are on your own… Lovis’s words to him after the debacle of the duel echoed in Fontus’s memory.
“Would he do that?” she asked.
“If he understands you are being forced into a match you do not want. He’s not a cruel man, and while he might think I deserve marriage to a woman who hates me, he would not see you in the same light.”
“I don’t hate you, precisely.”
She gave a good imitation; despite the small indications of thaw he’d seen in the ice.
“My brother was a fool,” she confessed. “While I loved him dearly, I had no doubt that the accounts of your duel were correct, when they reported he moved into your line of fire.”
“I wish your father could believe that.”
“He doted on Vincent, spoiled him shamefully, and was constantly disappointed by him. Though Father will never admit such. The manner of Vincent’s death gave Father an opportunity to re-direct his anger and frustration from Vincent to you.”
“You are a very perceptive young woman.”
“Now you are having me on.” Her lips curved upward. “I am at least five years older than you.”
“Age and wisdom are not the same. Your age suits you, as does your insight into others’ behaviors.”
She rolled her eyes, “You will be a very successful diplomat, if you can gammon foreign dignitaries as you are trying to gammon me.”
He mimed sorrow with an exaggerated frown. “You wound me for speaking a truth I sincerely believe.”
“Such was not my intent. I apologize.”
He saw sympathy reflected in her gaze before resuming his smile.
“Then let us plot how to resolve the problem of the proposed betrothal neither of us wishes.”
“I think writing to your brother is the best start. I will simply tell him how I feel. Although you must ensure that Father does not see my letter.”
“I can do that. I will suggest to Lovis that he invite you and your parent to Leigh Chase for a visit. I will also warn him that he must find a different way to mollify your father.”
“Speaking of my father, he plans to announce our betrothal at the ball at the close of the house party.”
“You must tell him you need more time.”
“I doubt he will listen to me.” Her brow furrowed.
“Perhaps if he believes I am actively courting you, he may be willing to delay.”
She turned to look at Fontus. “He must believe that matters will turn out as he wishes.”
“Do you think you could pretend to like me enough to bill and coo like a betrothed couple?”
“Must you kiss me?” Worry strained her face.
He placed a hand on his chest and widened his eyes. “Of course not. I would never go beyond the pale with the woman I love.”
She laughed. “You don’t love me.”
“No, but I’m coming to like you very much.”
He took her hand and kissed it.
“Ahem.”
He dropped her hand, and saw Lady Beatrix blush as he turned around. “Lady Aitken.” He grinned at her hopefully. “Good morning. May I introduce Lady Beatrix Sandrow?”
“Enchanté,” Lady Beatrix.” She moved between them, grasping that lady’s arm. “You must tell me about yourself, Lady Beatrix. I’m certain Lord Fontus will not mind if I interrupt your tête-à-tête. Non?
Lady Aitken stepped out, forcing Lady Beatrix to come with her or create a scene.
Fontus, motioned to the maid she should go with her mistress.
“We will speak again later, Lord Fontus,” Lady Beatrix called as she dragged her feet to slow her progress.
“I am at your service, Lady Beatrix. You as well, Lady Aitken.”
Lady Aitken shifted to look back at him.
Fontus did not care for her toothy smile.
“Certainly, Lord Fontus. You and I must find an opportunity to converse.”
As he escorted the ladies back to the house, he wondered, exactly what Lady Aitken had seen?
Had she overheard his conversation with Lady Beatrix?
Would she tell Dee? Of course, she would tell her daughter.
But what? He must speak with Deoiridh as soon as possible and explain the plot he and Lady Beatrix hatched.
Pray heaven he could explain before his wife saw or heard anything she could misunderstand.