Chapter 14
Jem adjusted his cravat for the third time, the stiff fabric suddenly feeling tighter than it had moments before. He scanned the long drawing room. So much of Beatrice’s future acceptance in society weighed on tonight.
The fire in the hearth snapped, casting a restless glow across polished floors and gilded frames and setting the perfect mood. Drifting from the kitchen came the faint scent of something rich and savory, making his stomach growl.
The guests mingled as they waited for dinner to be announced. Familiar faces mixed with a few strangers who had accepted the earl’s invitation, their conversations surfacing and disappearing again.
Gareth and Catherine had orchestrated this evening with the precision of a battle. The goal was twofold: to reintroduce Beatrice to polite society before the London Season and to assess the fabricated story of her elopement.
Not that she had to travel with the family while Parliament was in session, but despite wagging tongues, she had made it clear she didn’t wish to remain at Kellworth alone. Tonight was a rehearsal as much as a test.
Jem’s gaze found Beatrice near the hearth.
She stood with her hands folded lightly before her, her posture composed, her expression serene.
Only someone trained to watch people would have noticed the tension beneath it.
From his angle, Jem saw the subtle tell she did not realize she had yet.
Her right hand opened and closed slowly, rhythmically, as though verifying whether she still had control over it.
He made a mental note to warn her later.
Ellen and Catherine hovered nearby, careful not to crowd her, giving Beatrice the illusion of space while remaining close enough to intervene if a conversation went wrong.
Her gown of deep burgundy was rich and flattering against her complexion.
She wore it with quiet dignity, the sort that invited respect rather than demanded it, and more than one guest softened unconsciously under her steady gaze.
It fit her persona as a widowed princess.
“My Lord, you have kept the story of your aunt a mystery far too long,” one man remarked to Gareth. “And a tragic love story as well? I had no idea.”
Gareth inclined his head gravely. “It was a matter of her wishes, of course. And the family has continued to respect her privacy after the unfortunate passing of her husband.”
Jem caught Gareth’s glance across the room, subtle but unmistakable. His cue.
He moved without haste, easing himself into the conversational orbit near Beatrice as though he had merely wandered there. While the timing was important, his tone was vital.
“I wouldn’t call it tragic,” Jem interjected smoothly, slipping into the role with the ease born of years on stage and backstage alike.
“Every love story must eventually end in death. That’s the price of something beautiful.
From Lady Beatrice’s vivid memories of Prince étienne, we know she had a wonderful life with a man deeply devoted to her, and she to him. ”
Beatrice turned to him, her eyes bright, gratitude flickering there.
Another guest leaned closer, a woman with keen eyes and an inquisitive tilt to her head. “Forgive me, my Lady, but why did none of us hear of your elopement? Surely such a romance would have reached even the edges of society.”
The tension tightened briefly, but they had anticipated this. Gareth took the question.
“You know as well as I do how unforgiving society can be about an elopement. Prince étienne’s family insisted on keeping the marriage private, particularly given the precarious political climate of the time. Our family honored their request.”
“And we were grateful for your discretion,” Beatrice added seamlessly. “I shared what I could in my letters. My family was kind enough to keep me informed about the happenings at Twickenham, particularly the Full-Moon Balls. I could imagine them so vividly, it was as though I were there.”
She delivered the line so blandly, so perfectly neutral, that Jem had to look away and turn his laugh into a cough. Reese, standing just behind him, patted his back, her eyes wide and her mouth twitching with barely contained amusement.
“Romantic, I suppose,” the woman finally conceded. “It must have been difficult to have been so far from home.”
Beatrice’s smile softened. “It was, but I had my love beside me and cherished letters from home. They kept me tethered to the life I had left behind.”
“She’s good,” Reese murmured near Jem’s ear.
He could only agree. Beatrice was navigating the evening with remarkable poise, gliding through conversations with effortless grace, and despite the subtle currents of skepticism beneath the surface.
Watching her, his admiration for her strength of character increased.
He would be sure to tell her because what she was doing was no small thing.
When dinner was announced, Gareth offered his arm to Catherine. The rest of the company fell in behind them, per Catherine’s careful pairing.
She had placed Beatrice near herself, saying she wanted guests nearby who were known more for kindness than curiosity. Gareth sat at the other end, ever watchful. It was a thoughtful arrangement, protective without being obvious.
Jem glanced at Reese and found her also subtly observing.
Even though they hadn’t known the woman long, they were both fully invested in the outcome.
When they returned to their own time, he planned to do some research into what happened to Beatrice later.
Jem was beginning to understand how Aunt Nellie must feel when she greeted guests in the present whom she knew would soon have a time-travel adventure.
The meal unfolded in measured courses. Soup gave way to fish, then to a richly scented roast, servants moving with efficiency.
Conversation ebbed and flowed around the table as the guests gave their attention to the delicious food.
Jem caught fragments of praise, polite inquiries, and carefully neutral remarks, all of which Beatrice handled with composed ease. Her hand finally stilled.
Across the table, the Colonel sat stiffly, his usual air of command muted into something quieter, more uncertain.
His gaze lingered on Evangeline, seated nearby and engaged in conversation with a male guest. Michael and Ellen had been placed close enough to draw him in, steering the discussion when necessary.
The last thing they needed was for the Colonel to let something slip.
“Grandmama carried us through the darkest times,” Ellen said softly, her gaze on the fire burning low at the far end of the room rather than on the man she meant to influence.
“When Father died, it was Grandmama who kept us together as we all mourned. And when Gareth lost Cecily and their baby, it was Grandmama who sat with him through his grief, even as he tried to shut her out. And when he gave in to his pain, it was she who protected me from the worst of it.”
“So, she did all the mothering but never had a family of her own,” Michael mused.
“She said she had only ever loved one man. If she could not have him, she would have no other. Perhaps this season, with Beatrice at her side, we can convince Grandmama to give it another try,” Ellen murmured to Michael, who responded with a carefully timed glance in the Colonel’s direction.
The man’s eyes widened, and color crept into his cheeks, his expression tightening as though finally accepting the truth. Jem watched him carefully, hoping the maneuver was subtle enough not to offend the proud man’s sensibilities.
“Gentlemen, as is my tradition, we will forgo after-dinner drinks and join the ladies in the drawing room,” Gareth said as the final course, an incredible plum pudding with a custard sauce, was cleared.
There were only a couple of grumbles, and guests rose to drift toward the drawing room for cards.
For Beatrice’s first test, this had been an ideal setting with only a little tension, but Jem knew not all audiences would be so accommodating.
Sadly, it was human nature to seek scandal, and picking at sores was part of Ton culture.
The family would need to prepare to introduce her gradually to more penetrating audiences, who were bound to ask for further details.
Gareth caught his eye as they entered the drawing room and gave the smallest nod. The evening had gone well enough.
Jem searched for Reese. He found her lingering near the terrace doors, one hand resting lightly on the latch as though she were debating whether to brave the frosty night air.
“You’re not sneaking off, are you?” he teased, lowering his voice as he approached.
“It’s so stuffy in there.” She turned toward him. “So far, my morning sickness has only been in the morning, and I would like to keep it that way. I just needed some fresh air.”
They stepped outside, and Jem removed his coat and placed it on her shoulders before wrapping his arm around her.
Reese leaned her head against him. “Beatrice handled herself really well, didn’t she?”
“Amazingly so. I don’t know if I could have done as well after only watching life happen around me. I’m so glad you could help her.” Jem nuzzled her neck. “And you were the perfect person. I’ve always admired your knack for helping people see their potential.”
“You’re so sweet.” She straightened and turned to face him, placing her hand on his shirt. “And speaking of potential, I’ve been thinking about you.”
“Me?” He arched a brow, a sliver of unease cutting through his chest. “Have I turned into an underachiever? Are you disappointed in me?”
“What? You, an underachiever? Right.” She scowled at him as if he were insane, which made him feel better. Her expression turned tender as she kissed him lightly. “I have a surprise for Christmas.”
“I’m curious, but this trip was supposed to be our present to each other,” Jem said, not sure why she was making such a big deal about this.
“I won’t expect anything in return.” Reese tried to look innocent, which made him wary.
“Should I be nervous?”
“I hope not.” But a flash of vulnerability sparked in her eyes, and he pulled her closer without thinking, wrapping his arms around her again. “I’m intrigued.”
“Good.”
They stood like that for a few more minutes until he shivered. Laughing, Reese made him put on his coat again, and they went inside to join the others.