Chapter 10
Beatrice walked through St James’ Park, her brother beside her.
Her thoughts were her own, and even though Lord Warwickshire was busy talking to her about something or other, she was not paying much attention.
As usual, her thoughts were taken up with Lord Surrey, and she was troubled by her own response to him.
There had been so much to and fro, so much back and forth between them that she felt lost, caught in between wanting to release him from her heart and to cling to him tight.
She swallowed hard, tears coming a little too easily to her eyes.
Why did her heart have to feel so strongly for him?
Why did she have to continually fight against her own desire to be close to him?
There were so many other gentlemen present, she was sure, so many others who would be more than suitable for her, but she was still caught up with the one gentleman she could not have!
“You have asked me about Lady Norah, and I know I have been somewhat evasive.”
Her attention quickly returned to her brother. “You are going to court her, then?”
Lord Warwickshire looked away. “I am not certain as yet.” His voice was difficult to make out, given that he spoke away from her.
“I want to make sure I do what is right. I do not want to begin something and then find myself displeased with the connection. That would bring pain to us both, I am sure.”
“You are very considerate, brother,” Beatrice said, looping her arm through his. “But now, I fear, you are being a little too considered. You must act! Else you shall miss the opportunity.”
He grimaced. “You think that another will seek to court her before I can do so?”
“I think that could well occur,” Beatrice answered, with a smile. “You have gone to call on her once or twice, I suppose?”
With a nod, her brother glanced at her. “But it has not been more than that. I have only called on her, and I think she believed I did so out of a sense of duty, since you and she are such close friends.”
“I can speak with her, if you would like?”
Lord Warwickshire’s eyes flared. “For what purpose? What would you say?”
She smiled, glad to have been pulled out of her own thoughts for a time. “I would simply suggest that your visits might have been more than she thought. I could tell you of her response and her reaction thereafter, if that would give you clarity on what to do next?”
It took a few moments for her brother to decide; eventually, he nodded. “Just speak with care and do not tell her that I am half in love with her or any such thing,” he said, as Beatrice laughed, her heart lifting. “Even if that may be exactly how I feel.”
“I shall be very careful indeed,” Beatrice promised, as they walked arm in arm. “I think you would do very well together, I must say.”
“And you?”
She looked at him, puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“You have not forgotten Lord Surrey as yet, I see,” he said, his tone gentle as Beatrice’s face flushed hot.
“There is no shame in that, my dear sister. I only wish that I could do something more to help you in that, but Lord Surrey does seem to be interested in another. I say that not to pain you but to be truthful with you, in the hope that it might encourage you to look towards another.”
Beatrice closed her eyes briefly, a small sigh escaping her. “It is just as you say,” she answered, her heart returning to the dull ache it had carried for so long. “I ought to be looking at the other gentlemen who would suit me very well, and yet, my heart and my thoughts linger upon him.”
Lord Warwickshire patted her hand with his free one but said nothing, giving her only a small smile that said nothing about what he truly thought.
Beatrice, glad that she could speak honestly with her brother and that he could do the same with her, let the silence be her comfort, settling her heart as best it could, though it did not take the pain away.
“Good afternoon to you both! How very pleasant a day it is.”
Beatrice stopped quickly as a gentleman with a broad smile bowed towards her brother.
“Lord Rogart, good afternoon.” Lord Warwickshire bowed but then turned to Beatrice. “Might I present my sister, Miss Beatrice Williams. Beatrice, this is the Viscount Rogart.”
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Lord Rogart said, bowing again as Beatrice quickly curtsied. “I was just saying to my own sister that I am very glad indeed I do not have to chaperone her this year – she is married now, you see – for it was a very heavy burden indeed!”
Beatrice’s back stiffened, her smile fixed to her face.
“I do not find Beatrice a burden,” Lord Warwickshire said mildly, though his words brought a look of embarrassment to Lord Rogart’s face. “She is doing very well in society and – ”
“I did not mean to suggest that your requirements were in any way a weight for your brother, Miss Williams.” Lord Rogart put one hand to his heart, just as two other gentlemen ambled towards them. “Forgive me, I spoke without thinking.”
“That is quite all right.” Beatrice’s smile returned to its genuine state, only to freeze in place as she took in one of the two new arrivals to their conversation. She recognized him but did not know his name, realizing quickly that this was the gentleman who had knocked into her in the bookshop.
Would he recognize her?
“Lord Rogart, good afternoon.” The gentleman in question smiled first at Lord Rogart but then looked directly back at Beatrice, no warmth in his expression but a question in his eyes. A question that sent a shiver down Beatrice’s spine. “You must introduce us both to your new acquaintances.”
“Oh, Lord Warwickshire is hardly a new acquaintance, since we were in Eton at the same time!” Lord Rogart responded with a chuckle. “But Miss Williams has only just been introduced to me, so yes, in that regard – ”
“The introductions, if you please.”
The gentleman spoke again, cutting into Lord Rogart with a sharpness to his tone that made Beatrice’s heart squeeze with concern. Who was this fellow? And why did he think he could demand in such a way?
Lord Rogart frowned, paused as if to make it quite clear that he was not particularly pleased with this demand, but he acquiesced. Beatrice curtsied as she was introduced first to the Viscount Templeton, a stocky but somewhat silent fellow, and then to Lord Neath.
She did not look at him for long as she rose to standing again, murmuring the platitudes expected at first meeting, but thinking to herself that she did not much like the look of Lord Neath.
His eyes were sharp and a little narrowed, though mayhap, she thought, that was simply the expression he wore each day.
“We have met before, I think.” Lord Neath’s voice held no warmth as he spoke, his tone one of practicality. “Is that not so?”
Beatrice tipped her head, pretending to study him as her brother watched the interaction. “No, I do not think we have, Lord Neath. I certainly do not recall being introduced to you, which would have been required had we met before.”
Lord Neath frowned. “That is true but all the same, I am quite certain we are known to each other.”
“I think you must be mistaken, my friend.” Lord Rogart smiled and, perhaps sensing the tension that Beatrice herself felt growing in her, changed the subject of conversation entirely. “Lord Warwickshire, Miss Williams, might I ask – ”
With a snap of his fingers, Lord Neath’s eyes flared. “I have it! You were in the bookshop the very same afternoon as I.”
Beatrice swallowed thickly but did not allow herself to show any flicker of concern.
“Oh? I do not think that I remember any interaction with any gentleman in any bookshop,” she said, with a shrug.
“Again, it may be that you are mistaken, Lord Neath. There are many other young ladies with the same hair color as I; mayhap it is that it was one of them you met?”
Lord Neath shook his head, his jaw tightening. “You were in my way, Miss Williams. Do you recall?”
She tipped her head, aware that her breathing was becoming a little quicker but battling to hide any worry from her expression. “I am afraid I do not.”
“Well, I do.”
Was that a warning in his voice? A threat?
A little confused, Beatrice demanded her lips curve into a smile before she pulled her attention away from Lord Neath and returned it to Lord Rogart.
“My sincere apologies for the interruption,” she said, even though it was not she herself who had done so.
“Might I ask you what it was you were saying?”
Lord Rogart gave her a grateful smile, and Beatrice found herself responding to him, thinking a good deal better of him than she had done a few minutes before. He had seen a strain between herself and Lord Neath and had done what he could to bring an end to it, and for that, she was grateful.
“I was going to ask your brother if you might be permitted to walk with me around the park for a few minutes,” he said, as Beatrice’s smile grew. “Thereafter, I was going to ask you if you would like to!”
“I would be glad to,” Beatrice answered, looking to her brother, who though he nodded, was still frowning. “Thank you, Lord Rogart.” With a smile, she looked at the other gentlemen, glancing at each one in turn and shivering inwardly at the scowl on Lord Neath’s face. “Do excuse us, gentlemen.”
Stepping alongside Lord Rogart, Beatrice allowed herself to be carried along by the conversation, glad that Lord Rogart had so much to talk about so that she only needed to nod and smile on occasion.
Something about that entire situation troubled her, for Lord Neath’s arrival, followed by his insistence that he already knew her, was concerning indeed.
Beatrice did not know what it was that drove his questions, but instinct told her that he was a gentleman to be wary of.
And mayhap I should tell Lord Surrey, she thought to herself, biting her lip. Even if it means nothing, mayhap he ought to know.