“Before he passed, he and I talked for hours, which was quite wonderful.”
Felicity reached down and squeezed her husband’s hand before taking a seat beside him. “We were able, at least, to comfort his parents, too.”
“Oh, Mother,” Charlotte said. “Poor Grand-mère and Grand-père.” They all remained silent a moment, and then she added, “Shall I fetch some tea?”
“I would prefer chocolate,” Felicity said, “but tea for the rest of you.”
“I’ll go ask Cook directly.” She gave a smile. “It’s so much faster than ringing the bell at Amity’s and having to wait for someone to come and ask what you want. And I’ll find some biscuits, too.”
When she’d left, Beatrice and Greer sat opposite her parents.
“While we’re alone,” he began, and she wasn’t sure whether to kick him under the table at his potentially bad timing as the specter of her dead uncle hung in the air, or let him carry on. Deciding her parents were not only forward-thinking enough but hopefully in need of some good news as a distraction, Beatrice held her tongue and her breath.
“I am in desperate love with your daughter.”
Neither of her parents so much as raised an eyebrow. “Of course you are, dear boy,” said her mother.
Her father beamed happily and nodded as if waiting for more news.
“Yes, well, Beatrice ...,” Greer broke off, “I mean, Miss Rare-Foure professes to love me back.”
“We know that, too,” her mother said.
Beatrice rolled her eyes. They could at least seem the tiniest bit surprised.
“Your mother told me he was in the back room months ago,” her father said. “I thought this was all done and dusted.”
Sighing, Beatrice sat back and crossed her arms, giving Greer an encouraging shrug.
“I have asked her to marry me. Twice actually. And while I realize I should have come to you first—”
“We don’t stand upon ceremony,” her father promised. “If we hadn’t approved, you would have known about it long ago.”
“Oh.” Then Greer sat back, looking perplexed.
“For heaven’s sake,” Beatrice exclaimed, “my fiancé is trying to ask your permission to marry mepost factum, and you two are making it seem like old news and a penny gaff.”
“What?” her father said. “I don’t understand half of what you young people are talking about.”
“What did I miss?” Charlotte asked.
“Your sister is getting married to Mr. Carson,” their mother said, mirth in her voice, “just as I predicted.”
“Did you see the ring?” Charlotte asked. “It’s from Asprey’s.”
Beatrice, with little grace since her parents were behaving like horse’s asses, as far as she was concerned, uncrossed her arms and stuck her hand out unceremoniously.
Her mother leaned forward and examined the sapphire ring encircled with small diamonds. “Perfectly lovely.”
“I don’t know much about rings,” her father said, “but I can see it matches your eyes, Bea, which is a very nice thing, indeed. It’s certainly befitting a baron’s daughter.”
Beatrice drew her hand back slowly, glancing at Greer who wore a puzzled expression, undoubtedly matching her own.
“What do you mean? Since when am I a baron’s daughter?”
“Since your uncle died,” her mother said. “Your father went from heir presumptive to heir apparent, and is now the baron.”
“What about Grandfather?” Beatrice asked.
