There was his warning.
Arthur did as instructed and returned to stand before her.
This would be the reckoning about Miss Carruthers. He had halfway expected it.
“Her father is in trade,” Lady Beckham said quietly, using the timbre of voice she favored when she did not wish the servants to hear a syllable.
He nodded for that was indisputable.
“You could have chosen someone else,” she said, her tone a little waspish. “You could have made a choice that would not humiliate me.”
But Arthur was done with playing by Lady Beckham’s rules.
Doubtless his confession would surprise her, but it was time.
“Twenty years,” he said so quietly that his words were no more than a breath. He held her gaze, knowing his resolve was evident. She might interpret it as defiance, but Arthur did not care. “Surely, you are due one disappointment.”
She caught her breath. “You should not have said it. It was an impulse, no more than that, a tantrum, and you could rescind it. Choose someone else,anyoneelse, I entreat you.”
“I will wed Miss Patience Carruthers and no other.”
Lady Beckham considered him, and he wondered if she could see the depth of his resolve. She inhaled sharply and drummed her fingers on her own skirts. “You must guess the price of such impetuousness.”
He shrugged. “It is yours to decree. The happiness of a man you call your son, or the approval of theton.” He did not doubt that his manner made his view of that choice clear. Once she had ignored the view of others, but in her later years, she was much more concerned with their approval.
Her gaze snapped before she looked away. “I suppose a man cannot evade his destiny and your heritage had to show, sooner or later.”
Arthur straightened. He knew Lady Beckham was a snob, but she had not cast his lineage at him before. That she did as much now only increased his resolve—no matter the price. “I could have followed the earl’s dictate and inherited the title.”
She shuddered visibly and her eyes narrowed. “By weddingthatgirl. He would never surrender it willingly and you know it well.”
“Once you wished for a son to hold that earldom.”
“Once, my brother was young and sickly, and I believed I owed my father an heir.”
Arthur understood that resolve had faded. Reynaud had grown to manhood and despite his flaws, she saw him and his potential children as more deserving of the title than the boy she had adopted as her own.
It was a relief, in a way, to have the truth declared. Arthur had never desired the title, and in truth, he bored of the endless leisure and luxury of his position. He wanted a goal, an objective, a quest even—and Miss Carruthers offered him one. She might have been destined to put her hand in his.
The lady’s lips pressed together as she met his gaze again. “I could cast you out.”
He had expected this threat for years, though she had never before made it. “You could,” he agreed calmly. “And we could tell all the world of our long-standing deception. I rather think you would be judged more harshly than me. I was just a penniless orphan, a mere boy, and you were an aristocrat with every advantage.”
The lady caught her breath. “My brother cannot understand why you would decline a rich bride in favor of a young lady whose father is not only in trade but whose dowry must be smaller.” Her lips tightened as she surveyed Arthur. “I told him it was love, that you followed in my footsteps.”
Arthur did not correct her. He was not in love, but he imagined one day he might love Miss Carruthers ardently. For the moment, it was sufficient that she was his choice, not one made for him or forced upon him. “I trust the earl is content with your explanation.”
“He is not. Nor am I.” Lady Beckham inhaled deeply and shook her head. “You will bring her to tea and if I do not approve, then you will not wed her.”
Arthur leaned closer, his resolve strengthening with every word Lady Beckham uttered. “Independent of your view of Miss Carruthers, I will wed her,” he vowed.
“But…”
“Our arrangement has been amusing and certainly an adventure, Lady Beckham, but I will not regret if it all ends tomorrow.”
She stared at him in silence for a moment before recovering herself. “You cannot mean that. You would be destitute. You would lose all the advantages you have come to rely upon. You would benothing. Again!”
Arthur did not reply.
