“He is a baron, and that will weigh with her,” Franklyn said. “It does not weigh with me, however. What do you know of him?”
His calm tone soothed the worst of Bertram’s agitation. “He is a libertine, sir. He has kept a succession of mistresses since he came into his inheritance, discarding them as soon as he is bored with them… six months is about the usual length of time. This I have had from Brockscombe and Medhurst, who know him well — better than I do, for I never go to town.”
“And you believe that Bea is his next target? Why?”
“He has said very clearly that his intentions towards her do not include marriage.”
The eyebrows lifted even more. “He has said so explicitly?”
“Yes, sir. I heard him myself, and so did my friends. You may ask them, if you wish. With his reputation, we fear the worst, and Bea — sweet, innocent Bea who hurls herself into life with such delightful enthusiasm, must seem like an easy target to as experienced a man as Grayling.”
Franklyn nodded. “I understand your concerns, but I wonder if you do not refine too much upon his history. To me, he seems like a practised flirt, and if I had to guess, I would imagine there to be a ladybird in his keeping somewhere, but I find it hard to believe that he would seduce her here under the duke’sroof, where she is a guest. I would think he is merely amusing himself for a while, trying to see how far she will surrender to his charms.”
“And if she should surrender?”
“She cannot be permitted to do so, of course. You say she was out in the garden with him — alone?”
“Quite alone, and some distance from the house, a very secluded spot. Fortunately, Fielding saw them go, and we went after them and persuaded them back to the house.”
“Then I thank you for that. Was she cross with you?” he said, eyes twinkling.
“She was rather,” he admitted sheepishly. “It is not my place to interfere, but I could not stand by and do nothing, and it would have taken too long to find you or Lady Esther and explain the situation.”
“Yes, and it would have created a great to-do and everyone would have known what was going forward. Your way was far more discreet. However, you have now quite correctly informed me of the matter, and may safely leave it to me.”
“You are not going to sit on your hands and do nothing, I hope,” Bertram said suspiciously.
Franklyn smiled. “No, I am not going to do that.”
“Then… are you going to take her away?”
“I am not going to do that either, for it would draw unwanted attention to the matter.”
“So will you—?”
“No more questions, I beg of you,” Franklyn said, laughing and raising his hands defensively. “I shall deal with it in my own way, and, I sincerely hope, in a manner which will not raise awkward questions. Do you think it will rain tomorrow? I believe it will.”
And not another word would he say on the subject, and Bertram could only retreat to his own room and lie awake for half the night fretting about Bea.
***
Bea retired to bed in a dispirited mood. After her triumph in the recitals, the rest of her evening had turned into a disaster. Bertram, of all people, had spoilt her attempt to put Lord Grayling’s kissing to the test, and then Papa had drawn her away from Lord Grayling altogether, and into a discussion with the marquess, who was a charming man, of course, but difficult to talk to, it had to be said, although she had done her best.
The evening became immeasurably worse, however, when Mama sailed into her room, looming over the bed with a candelabrum in her hand, so that Bea squinted into the sudden brightness.
“So you are awake. Good.” Setting the candelabrum down on the table beside the bed, she pulled a chair near to the bed and sat down with a grim expression on her face.
Suppressing a sigh, Bea hauled herself upright, and prepared to be harangued.
“You think you are very clever, no doubt, Beatrice, with your Latin poetry, and I will admit that it went down very well with some of the gentlemen. It makes no difference, however. That sort of learning, and by a female long out of the schoolroom, is most unbecoming, and you will not repeat it, nor pursue any further study of Latin… or Greek or Hebrew or any other long-dead language. You will restrict yourself to suitable employment for a lady, such as I have always taught you, and not let this friendship with intellectuals go to your head. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Mama,” she said dolefully.
“I am sorry Bertram interfered between you and Lord Grayling, for time is running out, I very much fear.”
“Only three more days before we leave,” Bea had said.
“I am thinking more broadly than that. You are one and twenty, Beatrice, and you should have been settled long before this. I have done my best, heaven knows, to instil the principles of demure behaviour into you, such as a man of rank looks for in his wife, but I fear it has not answered. There is just enough of the unseemly in your manner to deter the most particular. I always knew it would be difficult with your background, but I thought, with some effort on your part, and the size of your fortune, and… well, you are not unattractive, when your forehead is not creased up from studying too much, but here we are. I was insistent that you should not have to compromise, as I did.”
