“And so should I, indeed I should!” Fielding said. “I must say, it is too bad of you fellows to barge your way in like this when you know perfectly well I liked her the moment I set eyes on her.”
“But why would she want a clergyman when she could have a viscount?” Brockscombe said loftily.
“Or be part of a ducal family,” Medhurst put in.
“Stop it, stop it, stop it!” Bertram cried. “Stopsquabblingover her, and talking about taking a shot at her, as if she were a pheasant or… or a rabbit. To hear you, no one would imagine you were talking about a lady you hope to elevate above all others and share your life with. It is quite horrid, and I am ashamed of all of you. I wish I had never brought her here now.”
They all turned and stared at him, surprise written on their faces, as if they had forgotten his existence.
“Atherton? Are you quite well?” Fielding said. “I have never heard you raise your voice before.”
“No, I amnotwell. I am heartily sick of you treating my good friend as a mere object, to be sold to the highest bidder. She is the sweetest, most agreeable girl in the world and she deserves more respect from you — all of you. I do not want to hear another word from any of you about her. Fielding, have a look and see if my man is outside, will you? I am going to bed.”
***
Bea had no idea what to make of it all. One kiss that made her melt inside and one that did not. Even without the hairpin, Lord Brockscombe had displeased her. She needed to kiss Lord Thomas before she could make a final judgement, but for several days there was no opportunity. A spell of fine weather encouraged the duchess to organise outings for the ladies each day which returned only in time to dress for dinner, and thearrival of musicians brought dancing every evening, which was enjoyable but did nothing to advance her purpose. So she gave up any hope of secretive walks in the garden and abandoned herself to the pleasures of the dance.
She decided that the marquess, surprisingly, was the best dancer. Mr Fielding seemed hazy about where his feet should be, Lord Brockscombe was energetic but inaccurate, and Lord Thomas was perpetually half a beat behind everyone else, an anxious expression on his face.
Bertram she already knew to be a skilled dancer, but for some reason he seemed disinclined to offer his hand to her. Perhaps it was because he already saw a great deal of her, for he had begun to help her learn Latin. He had arrived at the schoolroom one morning before breakfast with a paper in his hand, having compiled for her a list of simple phrases to learn. It amused her to greet his friends at breakfast with, “Salvete! Valetisne?”and hear them respond in chorus, “Salve! Valemus! Et tu?”.
At first all she could say was that yes, she was well, too, but they were happy to join in the game, and give her the words for plate or ham or salt, so that she could ask them to pass her this or that. Her father raised his eyebrows, but said nothing, occasionally joining in the game, too. But it was Bertram who sat with her for hour after hour, reading passages for her to repeat or to translate, and helping her perfect her accent.
So she was not surprised if, in the evenings, he avoided her company, confining his attentions to the other young ladies who clustered around him. His new-found popularity was soon explained — word of Lord Rennington’s difficulties had spread, and as Bertram was now the heir to an earldom, he rapidly became a person of the greatest interest to the unmarried young ladies. Her stepmother fretted over this new rivalry for Bertram’s hand, as she saw it, and urged Bea to secure him as soon as she could.
“He is halfway there, to be sure,” she said to Bea, “but you do not want someone to steal him from under your nose. Nasty, grasping harpies, these girls, throwing their caps at him in the most unbecoming way.”
Bea could not blame them for that. After all, was it not what she herself was doing? It was also what her stepmother had done. Someone like Winnie Strong might be content to wait until a chance meeting brought a suitor into view, but Bea was all for reaching out to grab a husband whenever an opportunity offered. Not for her a life spent meekly sitting in the drawing room waiting to be chosen. She would do the choosing, thank you very much.
Although if she were to be totally honest, she was not having much success at present. She knew perfectly well how to pursue a man she wanted, and wear down his resistance until he surrendered to her greater will. It had worked with Walter, and perhaps, if she had persevered, it would have worked with Bertram too, and although he was not nearly so handsome as Walter, there was a sweet, gentle air about him that she rather liked. And there was that astonishing kiss, which she would like very much to repeat, possibly on a daily basis, even if it reduced her to a quivering wreck every time.
Now, though, she had agreed to let him go in exchange for this month at Landerby Manor — a month, that was all! Four weeks to select the man who would best suit her and bring him to heel, and she was floundering. Bertram was out of bounds, and Lord Brockscombe was out of favour, but there was still Lord Thomas.
It was the dancing which finally gave her the opportunity for her next kiss. The Great Hall had been given over to the enterprise, the furniture moved aside, and the ancient stone floor providing a secure base for their feet. All the windows had been thrown open in a manner which would horrify Bertram’smother, and the door to the courtyard stood wide open. At the fourth or fifth dance, Lord Thomas approached her and she stood up willingly enough, although the heat was oppressive.
“Oh. Another reel,” she said with a sigh, as soon as the musicians struck the first notes. “Her grace does so love a reel.”
“Should you prefer to sit out this dance, Miss Franklyn? Or we might take a turn about the courtyard, if your Mama permits?”
The courtyard! That had possibilities…
Mama did permit, but even then, Bea was not optimistic of a private moment. The courtyard was well lit, and a few small groups stood or strolled about, enjoying the fresh air. Lord Thomas gave her his arm, and they perambulated slowly around. Eventually they arrived at the colonnade at the far end, which she guessed now had been his objective all along, for he led her directly into the deep shadows, where they could not be observed.
She was not minded to protest. It was what she wanted, after all, to kiss him and thereby compare him against the rather dull kiss of Lord Brockscombe. Yet somehow, she was affronted. Had he talked to the viscount, learnt of the kiss and now decided she was easy prey? Had he simply seen her disappear with him, and presumed? Did he—?
He grabbed her, there was no other way to describe it. Taking her by the shoulders, he pushed her against the solid stone of one of the pillars and clamped his mouth onto hers. She may have made a squeak of protest, but she supposed, since she had gone willingly into the shadows with him, he felt entitled to a kiss. Still, it was a distinctly unpleasant experience.
Fortunately, it did not last long. He soon broke away, gasping for breath but laughing, too. “What a darling you are, Miss Franklyn. That was delicious — thank you!”
Delicious? Her eyebrows rose. “Shall we return to the Great Hall?” she said coldly.
Still laughing in the most irritating manner, he offered her his arm, but she ignored him, stalking away, head high, still seething. Irritating man! How could she possibly marry a man who simply took what he wanted without even asking if she minded? That would never do! She did not expect her husband to fawn over her in a supine manner, but she demanded a certain amount of respect.
But it was all very awkward. Of Bertram’s three candidates, one was disappointing and the other took liberties, while the marquess, she felt, might be a dear, but seemed entirely uninterested in marrying at all. Besides, she dared not aspire to such a rank. Bertram himself was adamant that he did not want to marry, and she had promised she would not pursue him.
What on earth was she to do?
Still, there was one other who might do. Lord Grayling continued to be attentive. He was a lord, which was the main thing, but he was also handsome and amusing company. What would a kiss from him be like?
