But after bows and curtsies were exchanged, he said nothing, and it was left to Mama, equal to any occasion, no matter how delicate, to take charge.
“Lord Embleton, how delightful. Do come in. Beatrice is quite ready to accept your most obliging offer.”
“Thank you, Mama, but I shall answer for myself.”
A flicker of uncertainty crossed Mama’s face, but the marquess moved slowly forward, as if mesmerised, his eyes fixed on Bea’s. When he reached her, he gave a worried little smile.
“M-M-Miss F-F-F…” A quick exhalation. “Franklyn?”
“Lord Embleton, you honour me greatly with your proposal, and I am deeply sensible of all your many excellent qualities that would make you a wonderful husband. Your wife will be a mostfortunate woman, and in other circumstances… if matters lay otherwise…”
Mama gave a tiny squeak of alarm.
Bea took a deep breath. “I am very sorry to give you pain, but I must regretfully decline.”
“Decline?”
“Beatrice…” Mama began.
Calmly, she turned to her stepmother. “Yes, I know this is a disappointment to you and Papa, which is a great sorrow to me, but marriage is a matter that I can only decide for myself, with regard to my own inclinations… my own wishes… my own happiness. Lord Embleton, perhaps we could have been happy together… indeed, I am sure of it… but I cannot enter into marriage with less than whole-hearted enthusiasm, and at present I cannot do that. My interests lie in another direction entirely.”
“I-I-I…” he began, but the thought was destined to remain unsaid, for at that moment, the door opened and Bertram walked in.
Even Mama for once was speechless, and for the space of several heartbeats they all stood as if transfixed, unable to speak or move.
“There you are, Bea,” Bertram began with a wide smile, but then he noticed the shocked faces, and the stiffness of the tableau before him. His smile faded to bewilderment. “Embleton?”
The marquess’s mouth flapped open and closed again soundlessly.
Into the void, the clock struck the hour, making them all jump. Twelve o’clock! Time for her Latin lesson, and now Bea took notice of the pile of books under Bertram’s arm. With a squeal of pleasure, she dashed across to him.
“Have you brought it? The Virgil? I cannot wait to get started.”
He laughed. “I have, but you are otherwise engaged, I think. I beg your pardon… I intrude. Shall I come back later?”
Lord Embleton crossed the room, and held out his hand to Bertram. “I s-s-see it all now. Con…g-g-gratulations, Atherton.”
“Oh… um, thank you,” Bertram said, shaking the proffered hand with a bemused expression on his face.
The marquess bowed meticulously to each of them in turn and walked with dignity out of the door.
Papa chuckled. “You are a dark horse, Atherton,” he murmured as he followed the marquess.
Mama sighed. “Really, Beatrice, you might have mentioned this.”
Then she, too, was gone, the door closed with a soft click and Bea was alone with Bertram.
“Whatever was that all about?” Bertram said, as Bea uttered a low moan of distress.
“Oh, of all the unfortunate things! Lord Embleton very obligingly offered for me and—”
“Embleton? Offered for you?”
“Yes. I kissed him, and he thought I was in love with him. Really, Bertram, you do not need to soundquiteso astonished! Gentlemen have been known to offer for me once or twice before, you know.”
“Of course! I did so myself, remember?”
“That was not real, though, was it?”
