Chapter Six #3
“Nanny says that lots of people come to the park and we shouldn’t be suspicious of them.”
“I’m sure Nanny is correct.” Lady Brewood ruffled her son’s hair. “Has the man ever spoken to you?”
“He says good morning sometimes and doffs his cap.” Toby swung his legs. “Nanny says he has the manners of a gentleman. Can I go and look at the boats now?”
Bear craned his neck and could see no sign of their observer. He nodded his assurance to Lady Brewood.
“As long as you stay where we can see you,” she cautioned.
“Thank you.”
Toby skipped off toward the Serpentine and Bear turned toward his companion, frowning slightly. “Are you concerned?”
She tightened her lips. “I must not allow my imagination to run away with me,” she said, as if quoting from memory. “It is all too easy to grow scared of shadows.” She took a deep breath. “Let us speak of other matters.”
Bear was happy to oblige. “Your son is delightful,” he said with meaning.
“Thank you.” Her smile lit up her face. “May I ask you a question?”
“Of course.” Bear felt more relaxed than he had in a long time.
“Do your friends and family call you Bear rather than Benedict?”
“They do. I’ve been Bear since I was a boy.” Bear stretched out his long legs, regretting the restrictive warmth of his leather boots.
“I have been meaning to say, you should call me Marianne. After all, we will be married in a matter of days.” Her cheeks pinkened.
Bear’s heart soared. He had met her son and passed the test. He fixed his gaze on the bright-green leaves overhead until his breathing steadied. “I would be pleased to do so. And you must call me Bear.”
Marianne was watching his face closely. “What is it?”
“Nothing.” He shook his head and smiled slightly.
“Do you not like being called Bear?”
He shuffled uncomfortably on the bench, unable to deceive those earnest blue eyes. “Honestly, no one has asked me that before.”
“If you do not like the name, you should insist that people call you Benedict.”
“It is not that.” He tugged at his cravat, needing to feel a breath of air.
“Then what is it?” she asked softly.
Bear’s pulse beat steadily. It seemed as if Marianne could see right into his soul. “My father was the one to first call me Bear,” he admitted. “I was just eight years old.”
“I can see this is not a pleasant memory.” She touched his arm lightly. “Pray, do not say more if it upsets you.”
How can she read me so easily? he marveled.
“My father was passing comment on my bear-like appearance,” he said bluntly. “My untamable hair. My size.” He shrugged, as if the story did not sting. “The rest of my family are small and blonde.”
Marianne’s eyebrows rose in puzzlement. “But they cannot all be small and blonde.”
He met her eye and nodded, waiting until he saw realization dawn across her heart-shaped face.
“I am one of six siblings. There is a large gap between me and the youngest four. Relations between my parents were—strained.” He exhaled sharply.
“I am not telling you anything that is not often the subject of Society gossip.”
Marianne smoothed her pale-blue skirt. “Ah, but I do not listen to Society gossip.”
“Are you shocked?” He fixed his gaze on the distant lake as he waited for her answer.
“I do not shock easily.” Again, her gloved hand brushed against the sleeve of his tailcoat and he felt the warmth of it travel through his body. “But I will not call you a name that displeases you.”
His breath caught in his throat. He had once dared to dream of marrying a woman that saw him for more than his difference to the Fairfield family. To escape the moniker that had defined him for more than two decades.
Maybe Clara was right!
“Then you must call me Benedict.”
“And Toby?” Marianne nodded toward the boy skipping happily by the lake.
He smiled. “He can call me whatever he wishes.”
She smiled back and Bear felt a stab of joy.
“Mamma, look, the carriage,” shouted Toby, his words only reaching them faintly.
The transformation in Marianne was extreme.
Her cheeks turned pale and she half stood before sinking back down onto the bench.
Puzzled, Bear turned his gaze to the approaching barouche, which was pulled by a gleaming team of black horses.
The carriage was painted dark blue and glistened with gold embellishments.
The liveried driver and postillion looked straight ahead, but the lady sitting on the back seat lowered her fan and waved to the little boy standing on the lake shore.
Marianne sucked in a breath, one hand going to her heart.
“What is it?” asked Bear, but the lady only shook her head.
The carriage passed them by. Toby resumed his contemplation of the rowing boats.
“Are you unwell, Marianne?” Bear asked again, the feel of her name still unusual to his lips.
“I am quite well, forgive me, Benedict.” She took a deep breath. “A mistake, that is all.” She folded her hands in her lap and turned to face him. “What were we discussing?”
“Names,” he said, still a little bewildered. “But I believe we had exhausted the discussion.”
She pressed her lips together. “Then it is my duty, as a lady, to suggest another topic.”
She had relaxed, thank goodness. Bear wondered how they might resume the easy familiarity they had so recently enjoyed.
“I have one.” His pulse pounded at his own daring. “A suggestion, I mean.”
Marianne looked from Bear to Toby and back again. “Pray continue.”
“I would like to see you again.” His cheeks reddened like a schoolboy’s. “Before the wedding.” He clasped his hands together. “If you would like to, that is?”
Marianne’s lips twitched and her eyes brightened. “I would like that very much.”
“Truly?” Bear was unused to happiness. He could not quite believe it might be approaching.
“Truly.” She nodded before looking down with a smile.
Bear took the plunge. “It is Wednesday tomorrow. I am due to see my solicitor about the marriage license.” He wanted her to know he could be trusted with such matters.
“But after, I could secure a voucher for Almack’s.
You could be my guest for the evening.” Bear was not a particular fan of Society balls, and those at Almack’s were particularly grueling, but he had never known a woman who did not long to dance at Almack’s.
But Marianne had turned pale all over again. She reeled backwards, as if his words had slapped her and Bear froze, wondering what he had said.
She dampened her lips with her tongue. “I could not do that,” she whispered.
Bear felt awkward and uncomfortable. “I’m sorry,” he blustered. “I should not have suggested it.”
As the son of a duke, his entry was all but guaranteed. But of course, a beautiful lady would not wish to appear in front of the ton with a man whom Society tittered over.
“You have nothing to be sorry about.” Marianne rose to her feet and he saw with distress that her eyes glistened with tears. “It is I who should be sorry.”
He stood alongside her, unsure how to mend the damage he had unwittingly wreaked. “I had a most enjoyable afternoon.”
She nodded so vigorously that her bonnet slipped forward. “I too. It has been most enjoyable, as you say.” She adjusted her bonnet with a trembling hand. “But now it is time to take my leave. I must take Toby home.”
Bewildered, Bear could only stand and watch as Marianne walked briskly across the grass and took hold of her little boy’s shoulders. He raised a hand in farewell and Toby waved back, but Marianne’s gaze was fixed firmly away from him.
Bear felt the prospect of happiness drain away.
What had just happened?