“Yes, ma’am.”
“Mother,” Beatrice interrupted, knowing where this was going.
“Hm, and you are neither engaged nor married? With no abandoned wife back in the United States?”
“Mother!” Beatrice tried again.
“No, ma’am. I came to England to find a wife.”
“I see.” Felicity looked thoughtfully at her middle daughter.
Beatrice rolled her eyes about to explain the situation, but Mr. Carson dove in.
“I am pleased to meet you, Mrs. Rare-Foure,” he said, sticking out his hand in his forthright manner. “I am sorry if my being here is inappropriate, but I assure you I didnotsee her ankle.”
Beatrice snickered at his preposterous words while her mother gave him another long look. However, Felicity did shake his hand before turning to her.
“He’s a handsome young man. Good manners, too, except for being alone with you, which is most assuredly unacceptable.”
As if she’d ever given her mother cause to worry!“I was just telling Mr. Carson about the Season and—”
Felicity glanced at the American. “Well, you might as well resign yourself to marrying my daughter,” she warned him. “That’s what happened the last time a man came into the back room — where he should not be. It’s probably inevitable.”
“Oh, no,” Beatrice said, hearing Mr. Carson say the same words.
“We are not — that is—” she stopped talking. It was pointless. Her mother would learn soon enough that she was ineligible for this particular man.
“The last man to come back here was a duke,” Felicity added with relish, “and now my eldest daughter is a duchess.”
“I heard about that. And congratulations to them both,” Mr. Carson said. “I myself am in need of a wife, and your daughter has agreed to help me.”
“That’s exactly what the duke said, too. Do you have means to support a wife?”
“Yes, ma’am. And more.”
Beatrice let them continue. It was allstuff and nonsenseanyway.
“Then good luck to you, Mr. Carson,” Felicity concluded. “As long as you are kind and loyal, I am sure you will make me an excellent son-in-law.”
“But ma’am, I’m afraid I’m not—”
“Good day to you. Beatrice, he must leave the back room at once, even if he is your betrothed.” And with that, her mother strode out.
They looked at one another. Before either could speak, Felicity reappeared.
“You really should speak to her father next, Mr. Carson. Why don’t you come to dinner tonight? Shall we say seven o’clock? My daughter will give you the address if she hasn’t already.” And she disappeared again.
The silence grew thicker. He offered her a grimace of a smile. “That went off the rails rather quickly.”
“Do not worry, Mr. Carson. I will explain it to her later. In any case, there is little we can do until my sister returns and opens up the doors of the privileged to us.”
“We can prepare our attire. Shall we start this afternoon?”
“Are we truly doing this?” Beatrice asked out loud, speaking more to herself than to the stranger in front of her. It would certainly alleviate the boredom she’d felt recently, not to mention her dissatisfaction with a life stretched out before her with nothing more exciting than making the next batch of treacle toffee.
A Season amidst the nobility would undoubtedly be exciting, even if she ended up with nothing more to show for it than tired feet from dancing. Mr. Carson was silently waiting for her decision. She hardly knew the man except for his obvious good humor, a distinct sense of earnestness, and a pocketful of sovereigns. If he could pay for her wardrobe, then he must be wealthy and, therefore, not a charlatan.
Perhaps seeing her wavering, he said, “I promise, I’m not here to wake snakes.”
